SD-37 stood under the walkway scanning the densely packed parking lot. Today was a hot summer day, the kind humans would rather spend lounging about. Fortunately for SD-37, heat didn't cause them discomfort. Although their LED screen, usually reserved for facial expressions, generated the occasional drop of “sweat” to indicate her higher than usual temperature. Not that she needed the visual notification. Their cooling fans have been running non stop all day. 

Perhaps I should seek shade, SD-37 thought to themself before moving to the covered walkway leading into the factory.

There was rarely any activity outside of shift changes but any lack of diligence could lead to a security risk. They needed to focus on their job. They wouldn’t make mistakes. Their bosses didn’t tolerate mistakes, not from drones. 

SD-37 continued their patrol around the factory scanning parking lots, walkways, streets and the neighboring buildings of the city for anomalies. Nothing, as usual. This post was boring. The most exciting things they’d seen were some drunks wandering onto the property or some hooligans attempting to break into an employee's car. Aside from that it was placing parking tickets on cars in parking violation. Usually low level employees parking in management parking spaces. 

No matter, their diligence would be rewarded with a better post eventually. That's what corporate says, they thought. 

Perhaps they would be moved to the factory interior. They heard they were refitting luxury space cruise ships to be colony ships. The first in the world according to corporate. 

Maybe if they were able to prove themself they would be chosen as security on one of those ships! Now that would be exciting! They imagined.

Loud bangs and crashes interrupted their thoughts of promotion. Now that was abnormal. SD-37 rushed off in the direction of the sound. They were strangely nervous, what if someone broke past the perimeter on THEIR watch? That would be a black a mark on their record. That would guarantee they wouldn’t get promoted to a better position. Even worse, their bosses might decided to have them scrapped! They picked up the pace. 

Shouts arose as SD-37 approached the scene. A shift manager was yelling at an older model drone. It stood there head lowered in shame. It had large hinges for joints as opposed to their magnetic joints, and hands that resemble clamps more than human hands. Its face wasn’t capable of expression on account of being made from two visual sensors mimicking eyes and a speaker in place of a mouth. They reflected on how different newer models, their own model, differed from the previous variants of drones. An LED screen that could display a variety of, admittedly cartoony, facial expressions, and a proper mouth. One that mimicked humans complete with metallic teeth and silicon tongue. All covered by silicon “skin” to protect the complex components of the mouth. 

The old drone shifted its weight from one foot to another as it was chewed out. It stood next to a pallet jack. The parts it was moving had tipped over and were now scattered across the asphalt work area. The parts that were previously meant for a spacecraft would most likely be sent to a scrap yard. The damage was obvious, even to someone with no engineering experience like SD-37.

“Apologies sir. It won’t happen again,” the old drone said with its metallic voice. It sounded like a text to speech bot, another thing that showed its age.

“No it won’t! Not if I get my way and you’re sent to the scrap yard along with the rest of the damaged goods,” The shift manager bellowed. “You can be assured I’ll advise it to upper management.”

“I understand, shall I get started on cleaning this mess,” it asked. 

SD-37 thought it was a good move. It showed initiative. Perhaps when the manager calms down he might not insist the drone be scrapped. 

“Of course! I’m not going to waste time finding someone else,” he sneered. “And YOU! What are you gawking at?” 

SD-37 realized he was pointing at them and saluted.

“Sorry Sir, I heard a commotion and was insuring it wasn’t a security risk to the factory or its staff,” they reported.

“I have things handled. Get back to work.”

“Understood…” 

The loudest sound SD-37 had ever heard invaded their auditory sensors before they could finish their sentence. She spun towards the sound, towards the ships in the drydock. Beyond them was a storm of fire that quickly enveloped the factory and themself. 

Oh, I’ve failed, was the last thought SD-37 had before everything went black.

—

/run program (alarm) if 0400hrs = True. If (alarm) = True then Display message: Duty Calls.

—

Joyce awoke with a start to the beeping of her alarm and the message that obstructed her vision. Duty calls. She groaned and tapped the side of her head before lifting herself from her charging pad. Immediately after a low battery notification replaced it. With just a thought she dismissed the notification. Joyce did not want to go to work this morning. Especially after a dream about her distant past. A time before Cas. Truthfully she would rather lay on the floor staring at the ceiling until her battery ran out. 

Lazy, She chastised herself, The colony won’t protect itself. She forced herself out of bed.

For the most part rooms were standardized across The Star’s Embrace depending on the number of occupants and Joyce’s room was her own space. Long and narrow, complete with a closet, desk, charging pad, couch, computer and bathroom. She didn’t need the toilet that nobody bothered to remove. The shower was nice after a long day on lookout duty, or after an attack. Her room was usually clean and organized, everything had its place. Now though it was dark, blankets were left on the floor and tossed over the couch; clothes were left on the floor where she took them off. The bathroom door was left ajar and peaking out was a towel that had been left on the floor and a spilled bottle of armor polish. The curtains she usually had open to let sunlight stream in were closed.

Staggering over to her pile of clothes Joyce picked up a loose purple t-shirt and gave it a sniff. Nothing unpleasant hit her olfactory sensors so she pulled it on. Ignoring the fifteen percent battery warning on her visor she grabbed her blue utility jacket off the back of her desks chair. It had multiple pockets along its front and sleeves. Her fingers brushed over a light blue circular patch with a black border and yellow C sewn onto its left shoulder. She paused for a moment before throwing the jacket on. 

The last things she needed was her door key, security badge, and credit stick. She turned to her desk and began tossing aside the mess of discarded half written notes and scribbled out drawings. They were where she alway put them, next to a framed picture of her and Cas. Her sight lingered on the photo of the two of them in dresses, Cas with a large joyful grin on her face and Joyce who was trying to play it cool but was clearly just as excited. Her mind started to drift too that night…

Nope, Joyce thought to herself, tearing her eyes from the photo, I have to get to work. With that she tucked her personal items in a pocket and stormed out of her room.

The tenth floor was quiet this morning. It was quiet every morning actually. Very few areas needed to be operational at all hours. Just the security team and a few other jobs that are required for smooth operations. Luckily she worked the morning shift not the night shift. Not that Joyce participated in the night life of the colony or at least not anytime recently.

As Joyce made her way down the hallway towards the central elevator she put her hair in a ponytail, using a hair tie in one of her pockets. The shorter blond strands fell to the sides of her face framing it. The elevator wasn’t far from her exterior room and she’d had a few years to get used to the ship's layout. Not that the signs make it difficult to navigate. She just wanted to make sure she took the quickest route wherever she was going. Efficiency helped in case of emergency. Joyce pressed the call button for the elevator and her focus drifted to her remaining battery life. It wouldn’t be enough to make it through the day. The elevator dinged as the doors slid open. Joyce stepped inside and faced the operating panel. Fifteen floors. She was tempted to go to the fifth floor, the main lobby but she needed to eat. With a sigh she pressed the button for the Promenade Deck, the seventh floor and the door slide closed.

Whoever originally designed her model was incredibly odd. Probably insane. At least that's the only way Joyce could see it. Somehow the madman made drones that could eat and it would actually recharge them! Organic food, not just batteries. She had no idea how it worked or why it didn’t produce waste. Nor did she want to. In this case she should be grateful it works instead of trying to understand insanity.

The elevator door opened to the Promenade Deck and Joyce made her way to Colonists Essentials. The closest thing the colony had to an Old Earth convenience store. Open twenty four hours and never closes. Perfect for early risers and night owls. The “shop” was more like a storage depot because everything in it was free. From ready to eat meals to basic medical supplies and hygiene products to simple clothes. 

Joyce grabbed some scrambled xenoeggs, a mixture of various xeno’s eggs, and a hot coffee. After heating her food, She made her way to one of the many dining tables to be found. The Promenade Deck was basically an Old Earth shopping mall. Or at least what she assumed they were like. drones weren’t allowed to go shopping before the end of the world. Shops sold high quality food, art, fancy clothes, repair services, basically anything you could need or want.

Eating was a weird experience. It felt unnatural. Joyce could feel the warm uneven chunks of egg slide down her throat. The idea of consuming organic material and the lumpiness of it made her uncomfortable. Thankfully liquids went down smoother. Perhaps she should try a liquid diet. At least when she had to eat. How humans could enjoy this sensation baffled her. Things shouldn’t be touching her insides unless it was for ESSENTIAL maintenance. As Joyce cleaned up after herself a notification appeared.

Sufficient material acquired. Charging in progress.

“Good,” she muttered as she glanced at her internal clock. 

0435 hrs. Joyce entered the central elevator and pressed the button for the Lobby. She listened to the hum of the machinery as the elevator lowered. Ding. The doors opened and Joyce, more alert, stood up straight and made her way out of the Lobby. Large portions of the hull were cut away so stairs could be constructed leading to the ground. Mainly so foot traffic didn’t interfere with the vehicle traffic on the bottom deck. Administration put a lot of effort into ensuring the Lobby retained its grand feel. To the left and right of the central elevator were the grand staircases. A large open space with polished wooden floors filled the space between with columns of marble supporting the floors above. Beyond the right staircase was a bar and a stage; beyond the left staircase was the lower bed bay. Supposedly this room was originally used to host balls for The Star’s Embrace’s original occupants. Although the colonists did occasionally use it for similar purposes. The areas where the hull had been cut were replaced with fancy auto doors. Well, fancy compared to the utilitarian doors used throughout the rest of the colony. 

Joyce left the Lobby and walked down the steps that were constructed to mimic theaters or museums back on Earth. From the pictures she’d seen of them they did a good job despite the stairs being made from wood gathered from the mushtrees native to Robigus. After arriving the colonists decided to name the planet after the ancient Earth god due to the large amounts of fungi.

Those early days were difficult. Clearing the area around the colony and establishing logging zones. Constructing the walls that protect the colony, moving the armory and training grounds off the ship. The breach… It was hard to believe it had only been a year after they landed. Joyce made her way across the orange grass, stepping over some of the smaller fungi as she made her way to the armory for the start of her shift.

—

Joyce stood on the eastern section of the wall overlooking the valley as it stretched out before her. She had changed into the black flightsuit accented with red along the off center zipper. Ammo pouches strung along her belt, side arm on her hip and laser rifle slung over her shoulder. Unlike the other members of the security team, Joyce didn’t wear armor or plates. Her armored chassis would be enough to stop most things a rampage could throw at her. Better to keep the armor for the humans, they're harder to fix. Two people were stationed at each of the five watchtowers along the eastern wall. Her team. Joyce partoled the sections of wall between them. Checking their blindspots for suspicious activity. She leaned over the railing. All clear. It was all quiet, all normal. 

“Perhaps one memory wouldn’t hurt,” She mumbled to herself.

—

Initiate playback: Core drive/Memories/Cassandra/File672389

—