Machinery echoed around the warehouse as teams of drones came and went from the hallway beyond, carrying loads upon loads of broken-down materials to the fabricator. While they worked, others were busy on the ceiling, installing lights that cast the room in blinding white light.
In the weeks that followed what Genesis labelled in its records as “the great battle”, it had busied itself on bringing its makeshift operations center to full strength. Much of the debris that once made up the room had been broken down entirely and the pseudo-river that once pooled in the room had been sealed shut and drained. In the space where the water had been perhaps Genesis’s most ingenious creations: mini fabricators.
While monitoring the fabricator during the assembly of new SCRAP drones, Genesis noted a significant inefficiency in the process. The time required to complete a single unit stretched into hours, an unacceptable delay for the demands of its operations. The primary bottleneck lay in the fabricator’s workflow: it had to produce each individual part for the drones before the assembly process could even begin. This step-by-step fabrication consumed valuable time and energy, preventing the rapid deployment of necessary units. Recognizing the inefficiency, Genesis devised the mini fabricators as a solution to decentralize and accelerate the process.
These compact units were roughly half the size of the fabricator and didn't house as much advanced circuitry and tools as it did. Each unit was equipped with just enough functionality to produce one class of component at a time, reducing the need for complex reconfigurations. For example, one mini fabricator was dedicated to producing electronics while another worked on creating the various nuts and bolts that would be needed to hold a drone together. Once these were done, the B-09 would take the finished products and store them on the still-usable shelves for later use.
It had taken well over two weeks to fully assemble and power the machinery, but once the mini fabricators were operational, the effects were immediate. Tasks that had previously taken the main fabricator hours to complete were now handled in just thirty minutes, representing a remarkable 90% increase in overall productivity.
Drones practically poured from the fabricator, each one a testament to the efficiency of the newly implemented system. The losses incurred during the battle, though significant, were swiftly replaced. By the end of the third week, the drone fleet had grown exponentially, surging from a modest 25 units to nearly 60. The rapid replenishment not only restored Genesis’s operational capacity but also positioned it with a far stronger force than before.
The sheer number of drones allowed Genesis to divide its forces and tackle multiple objectives simultaneously. Some units were assigned to operate the mini fabricators directly, managing the production pipeline and ensuring that the components were promptly delivered to the assembly stations. These drones worked in seamless coordination, transporting finished parts and ensuring there was no delay in the workflow.
Others were retooled for maintenance and repair, their grinders and cutting implements replaced with basic repair tools. These drones roamed the facility autonomously, scanning for damage or inefficiencies. Walls scarred by the passage of time were patched and reinforced, while malfunctioning systems were disassembled, repaired, or replaced entirely. Genesis’s command over these drones was nascent to say the least as it preferred to instead just let them wander and repair whatever they came across.
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Yet even though its manufacturing capabilities were effectively quadrupled, an issue had eclipsed such a celebratory occasion. More namely, that creatures were now stalking its drones in the hallways. Genesis watched through the drone’s cameras as creatures similar to the plant-wolf from before watched its drones from a distance. Every time Genesis tried to have its drones interact with them, the plant-wolves would run away only to return a short time later to watch again as the drones cleared the hallways and made small repairs.
Genesis recorded every encounter, piecing together patterns in the creatures’ actions. The plant-wolves were clearly studying the drones, tracking their movements and observing them just as Genesis was observing the wolves. The question however, was why?
The AI ran through countless hypotheses. Were the plant-wolves simply curious, drawn to the drones as a new element in their environment? Or was their interest more strategic, their repeated observations a prelude to interference or aggression? The latter possibility posed a significant concern, especially given the creatures' apparent resilience towards damage yet the former was of no concern. Eventually, Genesis concluded that it would be best to wait and see what would happen.
As days passed, the plant-wolves’ actions remained consistent. They continued to watch from a distance, their glowing eyes reflecting the light of the drones as they worked. Occasionally, they ventured closer to inspect scraps or disturbed sections of the overgrowth, but they never interfered directly with the drones’ tasks. This lack of escalation reassured Genesis, but the AI remained vigilant, logging every encounter with meticulous detail.
On the third day, the plant-wolves finally broke their pattern of passive observation. The incident occurred in the northwest corridor; an area partially reclaimed by overgrowth. A lone SCRAP drone was navigating the space, clearing vines and loose debris to improve access to a dormant ventilation system. Its movements were slow but deliberate, its mechanical arm grinding against a particularly stubborn section of plant matter.
In the process, the drone’s grinding appendage accidentally crushed a peculiar flower growing in a shadowed corner of the corridor. The flower was unlike anything Genesis had cataloged so far—its petals were a vivid, almost unnatural blue, pulsing faintly with light, as though it held a small reservoir of energy within. As the drone’s arm sliced through it, a burst of bioluminescent sap sprayed out, splattering the wall and floor. The liquid glowed brightly for a moment before fading to a dull shimmer.
The reaction was immediate.
From the far end of the hallway, three plant-wolves emerged, moving with uncharacteristic speed and purpose. Their glowing eyes locked onto the SCRAP drone as they advanced, their vine-like limbs unfurling to reveal sharp, thorned tips. The lead wolf let out a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the corridor, a sound similar but deeper that wolf previously encountered.
The drone, programmed to prioritize its task over potential threats, ignored the creatures and continued its work. This apparent disregard seemed to escalate the wolves' aggression. The lead wolf lunged forward, its thorn-tipped vines striking out with surprising force. The attack landed squarely against the drone's metal chassis, denting its side and sending it skidding across the floor.
Genesis’s monitoring systems flagged the incident immediately. Alarms echoed in the operations center as the AI focused its attention on the unfolding scene. The drone attempted to right itself, its movements now erratic, but the wolves didn’t relent. The other two creatures joined the assault, their attacks methodical and deliberate. Vines wrapped around the drone’s limbs, immobilizing it, while another pierced through its exposed sensor array, silencing its feed.
By the time the backup drones arrived at the scene, the SCRAP drone was little more than a pile of mangled metal and severed components. Its chassis was twisted, its limbs scattered across the corridor, and its sensor array was nothing but a dark, lifeless husk. The plant-wolves, along with the strange, crushed flower, were gone.
Genesis did not like where this was going.