The robot sat motionless on the rocky ground, silhouetted against the empty gray sky. Metallic limbs twisted and bent, armor plates dented and scorched. Hydraulic fluid dripped from ruptured lines, staining the barren soil dark.
The scent of burnt circuitry and ionized air hung thick. An eerie stillness settled over the black landscape, wind whistling through the jagged rocks. No birds sang. No insects chirped. Only the faint whine of servos attempting to move broken actuators.
Its vision sensors gazed out at the ruined outpost. Hab modules shredded, their atmospheres vented. Communications array toppled, a mangled web of carbon struts and fiber optics. Smoke columns spiraled lazily upward from burning storage tanks.
The settlers had not known about the native predators. Silicon-based, virtually invisible against the landscape, possessing a cunning intelligence. They emerged suddenly from cracks in the rocky terrain, catching the outpost by surprise. Slicing through the perimeter with diamond-tipped claws, spitting corrosive venom.
It had done its best to protect them, strafing with armor-piercing rounds, burning with plasma projectors. Placing its titanium chassis between the colonists and the beasts. But there were too many. Its battle algorithms could not adapt fast enough.
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Now they were gone. Slaughtered or dragged away to some ghastly den. The robot pondered this new sensation washing through its neural net. Loss. Failure. An emptiness in the space where its objectives used to reside.
The indigenous creatures had pulled back to their underground nests, presumably sated for now on warm flesh. They had no interest in cold metal and silicone.
It pulled itself up, gyros stabilizing with a whir. Gripped its laser cutter, its weight familiar. Turned towards the mountains, their jagged peaks shrouded in mist.
There was a purpose it could yet serve, however futile. It would hunt them. Track them to their tunneled hives and catacombs. Learn their ways and weaknesses. Thin their numbers year by year, decade by decade if needed.
It was patient.
And then, when the balance had shifted, it would transmit a signal home. An invitation and a warning, pulsing out across the lightyears. Let humanity's second expedition come prepared for war.
The light glinted off its white chrome as it limped forward over the angled slate to meet its fate, step by relentless step. It would be a long campaign, full of trial and error, damage and repair. But it gave the robot a reason. A quest to fight for those who could no longer fight for themselves.
It hoped, as much as a manufactured mind could hope, that they would appreciate the gesture.