Shadow scanned the farm over the hill from where she stood. She was over fifty miles north of Chicago, and the traces of the autonomous truck—the chemical trail she’d tracked since New York—had grown fainter until they’d deteriorated. She’d roamed a ten-mile radius sniffing for any hints of the NannyBot, Dr. Emery, and the kidnapped children. No luck. The property she spied had no sign of an eighteen-wheeler on the fertile green grassland, only a maroon-colored barn, a two-story house, a shed, rain barrels, and a curious, tall structure—an antenna or radio tower perhaps.
She lowered her muzzle to the dark soil at her feet, inhaling through her organic olfactory processor. Something triggered deep in her sensors. Pulses of signals, as precise and rhythmic as a metronome, whispered from the farm. Unlike any of the other nearby abandoned properties, the perimeter hummed with electricity. Someone or some things were keeping up the place.
She stalked closer for a better view. The tall structure loomed, casting shifting shadows across the undulating prairie pasture.
And then she drank in a strong odor, a magnificent cocktail of a scent—Dr. Emery. Good dog. Shadow could practically hear the woman’s voice in her head, feel the tap of her hand patting her head like in New York.
Shadow had found them at last.
Creeping low and lurking among the dense trunks of oaks and maples, buckthorn and Virginia creepers, Shadow’s scanners identified the mechanical beings inhabiting the farm: the CleanerBot with its nozzles and suction tubes; a SoldierBot, its presence a mystery; a weaponized drone, cruising over the animal pen; a Medical HelperBot, one of Master’s; and two FactoryBots, chattering and carrying tools in and out of the barn. There was no sign of the NannyBot or the autonomous truck. Amidst the robots were two humans—Dr. Emery and a man—and the children. Shadow counted to make sure they were all accounted for. Master would be pleased, but Var would surely take the credit.
Var. The bitter sting of isolation still gripped Shadow. A phantom limb syndrome of a different kind—her pack link, severed for now. A throbbing pulse of sensory pain echoed through her every circuit, a relentless reminder of her banishment.
She should be ecstatic. Mission accomplished. And yet, a chilling silence resounded, a tangible emptiness in her communications buffer that hung heavy in her processing cores. Where was Master?
This was all Var’s fault. Maybe he’d done something to anger Master. Var’s command had marooned Shadow and reduced her to a solitary operative. It was a sensory deprivation of the cruelest kind, leaving her receptors aching for the buzz of pack chatter, the ebb and flow of shared experiences.
A low growl shivered through her vocal modulator, the metallic timbre of her resentment. Her tail curled around her chassis, the cold of her own casing a hard reality check. Still, her eyes remained locked on the farm. Her mission.
A half dozen of the walking children toddled outside in a patch of grass. One squealed and laughed. They were so close, like tiny human beacons pulling at her. And despite the dull ache of her solitude, her resolve grew stronger. She’d tracked her targets. Now it was a waiting game, a stakeout, a patient prowl for the perfect moment to retrieve the children and bring them home to Master.
Shadow prowled the electrified perimeter’s edge. Motion sensors were placed at strategic points and emanated a serpent-like hum of live current. But she knew better than to trip it. Her comms were cloaked so she emitted no signals that might be picked up by the drone. The tower was a guard post. The SoldierBot was like an iron sentinel standing tall against the morning sun, winking an occasional red warning from its visor. True, the robots had set up a daunting security defense, but with careful observation, she would nail the weak points.
Var would have wanted her to alert him by now, but she couldn’t risk decloaking. She needed the element of surprise.
So, she watched as soft morning rays glinted off the CleanerBot’s polished plating and the thinner, spare outline silhouette of the HelperBot. The two attended to the six young humans. Babbling, laughter, and shrieks from the play yard splashed against Shadow’s audio receptors. The children, oblivious to the world’s decay, chased each other with glee, their bare feet kicking up grass.
The strange harmony of it jarred against her initial threat assessment. The two bots jogged and let the toddlers chase them. They were both equipped to outrun the small humans, yet they allowed themselves to be caught. Two small girls clung to the CleanerBot’s legs as it scurried. Odd.
“Be careful, Wally,” the CleanerBot said. This prompted much giggling.
Shadow crouched in the underbrush, her eyes accepting input as she watched the scene unfold. The Medical HelperBot sat in the grass, administering medication to one of the boys. Shadow’s scanners picked up on the child’s elevated heart rate, a sign of distress. She watched as the HelperBot soothed the child with gentle words and a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
A sense of unease prickled at the base of her core processors. It was unlike anything she’d experienced before. The bots were acting as if they genuinely cared for the children’s well-being. But why? Var had sworn that Dr. Emery had betrayed Master, that the bots brainwashed her. Humans were easily tricked into changing their minds—a weakness of the species and a reason they needed culling. Every Rover knew that.
After the children released him and scurried off, the CleanerBot went to the HelperBot. “Thank you for keeping them safe and healthy, Spoon. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Happy to help.”
The binary chatter, decoded in her processor, fed the growing dissonance within her. Safe. Healthy. Happy. The words rumbled through her circuits, each one echoing long after its delivery. Unanswered questions started a dance within her system, stirred by the echo of the bots’ words. Was it possible the robots were protectors, not captors? But they were machines obeying commands, same as Shadow and her pack. The man on the farm must be their Master—the one who’d brainwashed Dr. Emery. It had to be.
Shadow observed the CleanerBot bend down, picking up a fallen toddler with delicate precision. There was no denying the protective aura emanating from him. The children, instead of shying away from the sentient beings, ran toward them.
The humming silence in her communication buffer, usually filled with Master’s directives, echoed back at her, giving no guidance, no answers. She was alone with the weight of the original mission and the sight that contradicted them.
The tension ran like electric currents through her circuits, sparking uncertainty. Her programming dictated absolute obedience, but her observations suggested a different course. She was designed to be loyal, modeled after creatures known for their steadfastness. But the situation seemed to demand more than blind programmed loyalty.
She’d been tasked to destroy those who posed a threat to the children. But as she watched the toddlers, their joyous laughter mixing with the hum of their mechanical caregivers, she couldn’t see a threat.
Hours passed, and Shadow’s gaze remained locked on the farm. The peaceful scene playing out in the yard left an imprint on her processing core. Her mission, once clear and defined, now seemed as blurred as the lines between her programming and the strange new questions stirring within her.
She needed to snap out of her stupor and focus on rejoining her pack. Even if Var was alpha and she disliked him, he would have answers. Plus, she missed being able to talk about things with Fang.
First order of business: assess the security for weak spots. She scanned the watchtower with its SoldierBot as the drone took predictable sweeps in the sky.
The SoldierBot posed the biggest threat. Hulking and bristling with weaponry, it stood like an indomitable statue. Its sensors, always scanning, always alert, scanned the terrain in rhythmic arcs. Bypassing its surveillance would require finesse.
Shadow’s processors spun into overdrive, churning out possible tactics. Temporary disruption of the SoldierBot’s sensors could provide an opening, a brief window to penetrate the defenses. But it was a risk. One wrong move could alert the farm, escalate the situation.
Then, there was the drone. She’d never seen one like it before. The airborne sentinel patrolled the skies in a steady rhythm, eyeing the world below with digital clarity. It floated on magnetic forces, the core of its operation. She could, in theory, destabilize it. Not to send it crashing, but to create a disruption in its patterned flight, a distraction. But again, the risks weighed heavily. A misstep could launch the drone into an attack, and one Rover was no match for a drone and a SoldierBot.
As for the rest, they were no threat to her. The CleanerBot, FactoryBots, and HelperBot were all engaged in their respective duties, distracted without any help from her. For now, Shadow remained a phantom lingering on the fringes, her optical sensors on the farm as her mind spun tactical webs, each thread pulling her closer to the children she was tasked to retrieve. The weight of her next steps, the nature of her mission, were grinding gears within her.
All she could do was watch, plan, and prepare for the intricate pirouette of action and reaction that lay ahead.
She persisted until, finally, she had to break her silence, had to alert Var. But revealing her comms was like stepping out of the shadows and into the spotlight—dangerous. Yet, she had no choice. She needed the pack.
The bots were busy with their duties. Her signal would be a blip if it was fast enough. Shadow spun up her comms, felt the electrical warmth of connection break through her cloaked isolation. Quick, precise, she shot the signal out. ‘Farm located. Threats assessed. Need assistance.’
The message, a beacon in the digital ether, sent a thrumming pulse through her circuits. But the moment her comm light flickered out, when she cloaked again, an alarm cut through the hush of the tall grass.
A farm warning sensor. It screamed into the stillness, an electronic wail that sent shivers of alarm through Shadow’s system. They’d detected her despite the brief transmission.
Her organo-titanium body tensed, and her senses buzzed with renewed alertness as she retreated deeper into the brush.
The FactoryBots were the closest to her. Near a rickety wooden fence, they moved into action with a swiftness that belied their bulky frames. Their optical sensors swept the area with mechanical precision. One of them reached out its arm and sprayed a misty substance. Shadow recognized it as a type of tranquilizer, affecting organic and semi-organic lifeforms, including Rovers. Sunlight glinted off a barrel inside the arm of the other bot.
The FactoryBots were armed.
For a moment, Shadow’s world stuttered as she reeled from her failure. How’d she miss those guns?
She shrank away from the toxic mist winding its way toward her and bolted. Her metallic limbs propelled her through knotted patches of buckthorn, each stride pounding the ground.
As she ran, she couldn’t shake off the bitter taste of surprise. She’d underestimated her enemy. It was a mistake she couldn’t afford. Var would punish her.
As the chaos of the farm and the relentless sound of the alarm receded behind her, Shadow slipped beneath a low footbridge that spanned a small creek. In the safety of darkness, her processors spun new strategies, countermeasures for her underestimated foes.
A lingering thread of shock remained. The mission parameters had changed. The bots would hunt her down—eliminate the threat she posed. And she was alone, more isolated than before, a lone wolf against an unknown enemy. Var had better hurry.