the Vanguard strode down the darkened corridor, its gait steady, the faint hum of its servos echoing against the rusted walls. Ahead of it, three drones zipped through the air, their lights cutting narrow beams into the shadows as they mapped the way forward. The floor beneath the Vanguard’s feet was overgrown with moss and slick with water as small puddles formed around it.
After looking at a diagram of the ship that had been made using data gathered by the drone, Genesis had decided to mount an expedition to the engineering wing. Of the many sectors the drone had mapped out, this one held the greatest likelihood of containing the parts it needed. What's more, the timing was optimal.
With repairs recently completed, the Vanguard was fully operational again, making it the ideal choice to lead the expedition. Since its bout with the lizard, much of the Vanguard's frame—and even parts of its internal systems—had sustained heavy damage, pushing it to the brink of failure. During the repairs, Its right arm had to be completely reconstructed using recycled metal from the ship’s hull. Genesis had reinforced the joints and plating with extra layers of alloy, restoring both durability and strength to the limb in case something tried to rip it off again.
Alongside the arm, The optical module, which had been corroded by acid during the battle, had to be completely rebuilt as well. Genesis fabricated a new set of lenses and circuitry, recalibrating the optics to restore clarity and depth of vision. The machine could now perceive its surroundings in exacting detail, free from distortion or interference.
When it came to the Vanguard’s frame, however, many issues arose. The creature’s claws had left deep gouges along its torso, compromising structural integrity and leaving entire sections warped beyond repair. Genesis salvaged what it could, but certain areas required complete replacement. It had taken many hours for MARS to grind and gather the metal and even more once the fabricator melted the metal down for reuse. By the time Genesis had fabricated new panels and molded them to fit the Vanguard’s dimensions, three days had passed.
Yet it wasn't just the frame that needed to be replaced. Beneath the plating, Genesis painstakingly replaced internal circuitry and power conduits that had been damaged in the battle. These components had been partially severed in the duel and once the damage was logged, the wiring was rewired and reinforced, ensuring a steady, uninterrupted power flow to each system. As an added precaution, Genesis lined the primary power conduits with an insulated casing, a cheap but effective way of making them resistant to corrosive attacks.
Once the Vanguard’s frame was fully reassembled and its battery charged to capacity, Genesis took the final step in the restoration process: a full factory reset. This reset would not only clear lingering memory fragments from the recent battle but also recalibrate the Vanguard’s core programming, returning it to peak operational efficiency.
Genesis initiated the reset, watching as the Vanguard’s systems shut down, each component systematically wiped, reconfigured, and restored to original specifications. The reset process reloaded all combat protocols, movement patterns, and diagnostic routines that the Vanguard would need for the mission ahead, ensuring no traces of the recent damage or malfunctions remained.
As the reset completed, the Vanguard’s systems began to hum quietly back to life. Power surged through its circuits, each component initializing in seamless succession. Optics flickered on, lenses adjusting as they focused with newfound clarity on the dimly lit room. Every subsystem was now optimized, calibrated, and fully operational.
the Vanguard’s posture straightened, servos and actuators aligning perfectly. With a faint mechanical whir, it raised its head and looked towards Genesis.
“Unit designation: the Vanguard 77-L. Serial number: 4729-9816-03. Operational status: Functional. Awaiting orders, my liege.”
Genesis processed the Vanguard’s readiness with a sense of satisfaction. With the droid fully functional, it could finally begin the expedition into the Engineering Wing. Through the network connection, Genesis transmitted the mission parameters, embedding each directive and objective into the Vanguard’s system.
“Primary Objective: Locate and recover materials suitable for power grid repair. Secondary Objective: Assess the condition of structural components within the Engineering Wing.”
Genesis paused, then added a final instruction: “Maintain vigilance. Hostile entities may be present.”
As the Vanguard received the mission details, Genesis turned its attention to the fabricator, initiating a rapid construction sequence. Within minutes, two small reconnaissance drones were completed, their frames equipped with lightweight mapping sensors and adaptive navigational systems. With a quick calibration, Genesis synchronized the drones with the Vanguard.
With its orders clear and the drones whirring softly at its side, the Vanguard moved toward the corridor leading into the ship’s decayed depths. Genesis watched through the drone feeds, tracking every step as the Vanguard’s frame cut a steady path through the dim light. The drones hovered close, their mapping sensors active, but Genesis knew the interference ahead would soon test their limits.
For a moment, Genesis ran dozens of contingency plans, calculating possible outcomes and analyzing the risks the Vanguard might encounter. The Engineering Wing was unpredictable—it's halls filled with hazards, unknown entities, and the ever-present decay of a ship long past its prime. It had taken days to restore the Vanguard to its full potential, and this mission was its first true test since its reconstruction.
With the final uplink established, Genesis observed as the droid and its companions disappeared down the corridor. A single line of code drifted through its processing, like a quiet mantra amidst the calculations:
Return unharmed.
***
The corridor was silent but for the faint hum of the drones and the steady clank of the Vanguard’s own footsteps against the worn metal floor, trailing wet moss behind it with every step. Shadows pooled in the corners, cast by the faint glow of the drones and the Vanguards LED lights. Dust hung thick in the air, stirred only by the drones’ subtle movements and the shifting of debris under the Vanguard’s feet.
It had taken the Vanguard hours to reach this far into the ship, navigating passage after passage with the drones at its side. For much of the journey, silence had been its only companion. The corridors stretched endlessly, each turn and junction blending into the next, their sameness broken only by the occasional pile of debris or faint, erratic pulse of a faulty light.
The expedition had been mostly uneventful. The fabric of the ship showed signs of decay everywhere the Vanguard looked—rust gnawing through metal, wiring exposed like frayed nerves, faint scorch marks hinting at past failures. There was little to engage its systems. The only intrigue came from the creatures it occasionally spotted darting away at the edge of its optics: small, skittish animals that seemed to have made the derelict ship their home. They scattered as soon as they sensed it approaching, vanishing into cracks and crevices with swift, silent movements.
Still, the Vanguard noted them all, cataloging each sighting with a quiet vigilance as it pushed onward, the Engineering Wing drawing nearer with each step.
As the Vanguard pressed forward, the corridor began to narrow, the air growing colder, laden with a metallic tang that clung to its sensors. Occasionally, the silence was broken by faint creaks from above, the groaning metal shifting as if the ship itself resented the intrusion. The drones continued to flit ahead, their lights cutting through the shadows, feeding a live map back to Genesis.
Then, just as the map showed they were nearing the Engineering Wing, a shift in the air caught the Vanguard’s attention. The quiet static interference Genesis had anticipated began to thicken, disrupting the drones’ stability. Their lights flickered erratically, and their movements grew disjointed, sensors stuttering under the sudden wave of interference.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The drones struggled against the disturbance for a few seconds more before Genesis recalled them, pulling them back to preserve their function. Alone now, the Vanguard continued on, moving cautiously, its optics adjusting as the corridor dimmed further, lit only by faint, sporadic sparks from exposed wiring overhead.
It registered the increase in interference, the tingling static crawling across its sensors, but it moved ahead without hesitation, its system having been upgraded to deal with the interference.
The doors to the Engineering Wing loomed before the Vanguard, massive and imposing. Each door was easily three times its height, towering slabs of reinforced alloy, their surface scarred from years of neglect. Once pristine and gleaming, they were now marred by streaks of rust and corrosion, with sections warped from the structural stresses of the crash and years of disuse.
Thick hydraulic pistons lined each side of the doorframe, though their casings were cracked, and some hoses hung limp, leaking traces of ancient hydraulic fluid that had long since congealed. In their prime, these doors would have parted smoothly, engineered to open swiftly and allow massive machinery and massive droids to pass through without issue. But now, the thick metal plates were slightly misaligned, sagging from the broken hinges and twisted tracks that had once held them steady.
Large warning signs, faded and peeling, clung to the doors, bearing messages in bold red script: “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” and “CAUTION: HEAVY MACHINERY”. The words were nearly illegible now, the once-bright letters obscured by grime and time.
The doors were partially open, a narrow gap just wide enough for the Vanguard to slip through. It angled its frame carefully, edging sideways between the massive slabs of metal. Once inside, the Vanguard’s optics adjusted to the dimness, and it activated its shoulder-mounted lights, casting stark beams across the vast, open space.
The central area of the Engineering Wing stretched out before it like a graveyard frozen in time. Rows of rusted droids lay scattered across the floor, their bodies twisted and broken, some slumped against walls, others sprawled on their backs as if fallen mid-task. A few were in pieces, their limbs and panels strewn across the floor, tangled in wiring that snaked like veins through the room’s skeletal remains.
the Vanguard swept its lights across the ceiling, where more broken machines hung from overhead tracks, suspended by long-abandoned cranes and lifters. Exposed wiring hung down in loops, sparking faintly, casting momentary flashes over the rust-streaked walls and glinting off metal fragments littering the ground. Large storage crates and toppled shelving units lined the walls, some still locked, others forced open, their contents spilled and scattered.
A quiet crackling filled the room, static interference thickening as the Vanguard’s sensors adjusted. The droid moved cautiously, its footsteps echoing in the cavernous space, sending vibrations that stirred clouds of dust from the long-forgotten machines around it.
To its left, a hulking maintenance droid lay slumped against a wall, its massive arms once used to hoist heavy equipment but now warped and bent, rusted joints fused in place. the Vanguard paused, observing the large claw-like appendage that still held a broken welding torch, long extinguished. Beyond it, smaller repair units sat in clusters, their forms tangled together as if they’d collapsed mid-task, each one partially disassembled.
the Vanguard moved cautiously down one of the narrow hallways branching from the main atrium, its footsteps echoing against the walls. These corridors, once used to connect the central Engineering Wing to smaller depots and workshops, were lined with small, reinforced doors, many left ajar or barely hanging on their hinges. Faded signs marked each one, directing the way to Storage Bay A, Tool Depot 3, and Workshop 7. The rust and decay gave each sign a warped appearance, but the Vanguard cataloged them dutifully, building a mental map as it progressed.
The corridor grew darker as it went deeper into the ship’s interior, the hum of static interference thickening the further the Vanguard ventured. Old wiring snaked along the ceiling, sparking occasionally, casting momentary bursts of light that briefly illuminated the passage ahead. Every sound seemed amplified here—the creak of metal, the faint hiss of exposed gas from a ruptured pipe somewhere in the depths, the quiet drip of unseen fluids.
Reaching an intersection, the Vanguard halted, its optics scanning each corridor in turn. To the left, a hallway sloped down into darkness, likely leading to one of the larger supply depots. To the right, rows of locked rooms sat in shadow, their doors shut and silent. But from somewhere ahead, in one of the rooms closest to the intersection, came a faint sound—a rhythmic clicking and scraping, as if something metallic were being sifted through.
the Vanguard angled its head, sensors tuned to the direction of the sound, and took a slow, measured step forward. The noise grew slightly louder, the scrape of metal on metal, accompanied by the occasional rustling, as though something was digging through an old pile of parts. The room was partially open, its door wedged into place by the buckling frame, and dim light from a broken wall panel flickered faintly inside.
the Vanguard approached the doorway, its optics adjusting to the dim flicker of light coming from within the room. The space beyond the door was cluttered and narrow, lined with shelves that sagged under the weight of rusted components and half-dismantled machines. Old maintenance logs and schematics lay scattered across the floor, their pages faded and brittle from neglect.
The source of the noise was near the back of the room—a lone droid, hunched over an open crate, its frame jerking as it rummaged through the contents. Its movements were stiff and erratic, each motion accompanied by a faint whine from strained servos. It pulled out a corroded gear, examined it for a moment with a broken optic that flickered dimly, then tossed it aside with a clang that echoed through the cramped space.
The droid was a battered relic of a long-past era, its once-sleek casing now warped and pitted from years of corrosion. Patches of rust clung to its frame like decay spreading across a corpse, and what remained of its paint had faded to a dull, uneven gray. Its limbs were cobbled together from mismatched parts, barely held in place by crude, improvised welds. One arm appeared to have been replaced entirely, attached with a twisted bolt that scraped as it moved, while the other hung at an odd angle, clutching a broken claw that had lost its original dexterity.
Its torso was riddled with dents and cracks, exposing frayed wiring and half-burnt circuitry that sparked faintly in the dim light. A single, cracked optic was embedded in its head, flickering in and out of focus as it scanned the crate’s contents. The optic emitted a weak red glow that pulsed erratically, like a dying ember struggling to stay alight. Below the optic, the casing had caved in, and faint streaks of coolant seeped from the cracks, pooling in a small, sticky puddle beneath it.
As it rummaged, a garbled static noise emanated from its speaker, punctuated by occasional, incoherent bursts of words—a shattered echo of whatever commands it had once been programmed to follow. Fragments of phrases crackled from its speaker, the syllables broken and distorted beyond recognition:
“Main... mainte... proce... di-rec... t-tive...”
The static hissed, and then another burst, this time more agitated:
“Com... ply... ta-ask... er-ror...”
Its head jerked slightly with each sound, as if struggling to remember its original function through the haze of corrupted code. The optic flared briefly with each word, flashing in uneven pulses that seemed almost frantic, like the heartbeat of a dying animal. Whatever task it had once been assigned, it clung to that programming with the last traces of its failing system.
Upon seeing the droid, the Vanguard stepped forward, letting the beam from its shoulder-mounted light fall over it. In a voice that boomed in the quiet room, the Vanguard announced itself:
“Unit designation: the Vanguard 77-L. Serial number: 4729-9816-03. Identify yourself.”
The sound of the Vanguard’s voice cut through the static, echoing off the walls with a force that seemed to jolt the droid from its mechanical stupor. It froze, its head tilting toward the Vanguard in a series of stiff, unnatural jerks. The optic flickered erratically, struggling to focus, as if trying to process the unexpected presence before it.
A crackle of static emanated from its speaker, followed by a brief, distorted burst of sound:
“U-u-unit... error... un-reco... gni-ze...”
It stuttered, the fragmented words barely intelligible, a warped reflection of what had once been a coherent response.
The droid’s optic flickered with uneven pulses, its entire frame shuddering as it struggled to process the Vanguard’s command. Metal joints creaked, and its fractured speaker emitted another burst of static, like a corrupted system attempting to reboot:
“Com-man-d... erro-r... fail... ure... main-tai-nan...ce…”
Its head twitched to one side, then the other, as if attempting to shake loose the broken code. For a brief moment, it appeared as though it might stand down. But then, with a surge of garbled static, its single, flickering optic narrowed, sparking to life with a new intensity. The droid emitted a mechanical growl, distorted and low, and its clawed arm raised, reaching out toward the Vanguard in a stiff, jerking motion.
the Vanguard reacted almost instantly, bringing its spear up in a precise, practiced motion. The droid lurched forward, its clawed hand outstretched, but the Vanguard drove the spear forward with calculated force, piercing the droid’s corroded chassis. The impact sent a shower of rust and sparks into the air as the weapon tore through layers of decayed metal and tangled wiring.
The droid convulsed, its optic flaring wildly before dimming to a dull glow. It emitted a final burst of garbled static, fragments of its corrupted programming sputtering out in a broken whine:
“Pro-tec-t... er-ror... fail... ure...”
With a rattling groan, the droid collapsed, its claw scraping feebly against the floor before falling still. The Vanguard watched it for a moment, ensuring no remnant of movement remained, then withdrew its spear, straightening with a quiet whir of servos. In the dim light, the fallen droid’s frame looked more like a corpse than a broken machine.
The Vanguard stepped out of the cramped room and back into the dim hallway, its optics adjusting to the shadowed space. Continuing down the corridor, it moved with caution, each step measured as it scanned for movement. Ahead, the passage split into an intersection, with corridors branching off in three directions.
To the left, a mass of debris from the ceiling had caved in, blocking the way entirely. Thick beams and crumpled metal panels jutted out from the rubble, twisted and blackened from years of decay. Exposed wiring hung down like tangled vines, some still sparking faintly in the darkness. Dust floated in the air, disturbed only by the Vanguard’s presence.
As the Vanguard stood at the intersection, a faint but unmistakable sound caught its attention—a harsh, grating noise, like metal scraping against metal. It turned its head, optics narrowing as a single figure emerged from the darkness ahead, shuffling forward on mismatched legs that jerked and creaked with each movement. The droid’s frame was even more dilapidated than the one it had encountered earlier: limbs bent at unnatural angles, wires trailing from its torso like spilled entrails, and a single optic flickering weakly in its battered head.
the Vanguard shifted into a defensive stance, spear at the ready, prepared to confront this lone adversary. But just as it took its first step forward, another sound reached its sensors—a series of faint, uneven clanks echoing from behind.
It turned, and its optics adjusted as more figures emerged from the opposite corridor. The droids staggered forward in unison, each one as damaged and corrupted as the last, their rusted frames covered in patches of grime, their limbs barely held together by remnants of old repairs. Some dragged themselves along the floor with only one functioning arm; others had heads twisted at odd angles, yet still focused intently on the Vanguard, as if drawn by some shared, broken instinct.
As it looked around, realization dawned. the Vanguard was surrounded.