“Colonel, we located the target at the harbor!”

The wall monitors in the Animal Control Force Command Center displayed the submarine video feed of Rolo.

“Good!” yelled the colonel. “Sergeant, how long till ground troops intercept?”

“Sir, no ETA yet. Now their transport slipped into a time dilation drain-hole.”

The colonel yell-grunted, “Those brainless bots would lose their heads if they weren’t bolted on!”

He then pivoted to B-L1 and B-D3. “Privates, I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but I’m sending you out to the field again. Can you two bolt-buckets manage to keep your nuts screwed on this time?!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” The two bots saluted and exited.

The colonel yelled quietly to himself, “I’ve got about as much confidence in those two as a plastic worm-gear! We’re going to need backup.” He pivoted and rolled up a platform and entered an office door.

“General Glirk, sir!”

Unlike the rest of the robo-tech command center, the general’s office was just a regular office, old and outdated, with a scratched-up wooden desk, faded wall paneling, and dented filing cabinets. The back counter had stacks of holographic papers, a wilting potted plant, and a stained coffeine maker. A calendar was pinned to the wall, next to a poster of a kiffen hanging on a tree branch with the text, “Hang in There Kiffy.”

General Glirk reclined in the office chair with her feet on the desk, reading a large holographic newspaper, with an empty coffeine mug to the side. She was a blorxling, not a robot, wearing an ill-fitting animal control uniform and cap. Unlike the obsessive bots, to her, this was merely a civil desk job, a promotion that no one else wanted, unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

She lowered her newspaper and sighed. “What is it now, Colonel?”

“General, we have an unlicensed earthling running feral in sector B41, considered unneutered and dangerous, abetted by two minors traveling north. The 2nd Platoon has been delayed. Requesting backups, sir!”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

“General, should we deploy the 1st Cavalry or the Special Strike Force?”

“For one earthling?”

“Yes, General.”

She sighed again. “I don’t care. Surprise me.” She raised her newspaper and continued reading. The colonel continued staring at her, unmoving. She peered over the top at him.

“General, when should I surprise you?”

“What?” She rolled her eyes. “No. Never mind. Just … do the first one, okay? And get out of my office!”

“Yes, General!”

“And close my door!”

The colonel pivoted 180 and exited—without closing the door. He rolled onto the platform and yelled louder than usual:

“Code Red! Sector B41. Code Red! This is not a drill!”

Alarms sounded, red lights flashed, and all the bots scrambled into frantic chaos.