With a groan, Ross exerted himself to force the hefty shipment deeper inside the van, thwarted by the forklift's excessive height for the space. His success was fleeting, soon replaced by a surge of frustration.

“Oh, common!” Fatigued, Ross collapsed onto the van floor for a brief respite. Panting, he glared at the stubborn shipment, as if it mocked him with its immovability. His irritation intensified with every moment he spent glaring at it, prompting him to rise abruptly in anger. “You know, one would’ve thought that we’d invented something by now to make this bullshit easier!” he ranted, his hands gesturing wildly. “Like a cool exoskeleton, or something! It’s the twentieth-fourth century, god fucken damnit! What’s the fucken point in living in the fucken future, if you don’t get to actually live in the fucken future?!”

The grand promise of automation eradicating manual labor turned out to be nothing more than a pipe dream. AI, while prevalent in performing tasks like numerical analysis and data processing, didn’t usher in the revolutionary change many anticipated.

Robots, in theory, had clear advantages over human labor: no need for nurturing, feeding, compensation, breaks, or social care. The crux of the problem lay in their narrow expertise. They could outshine humans in specific tasks but lacked adaptability. This inherent rigidity, coupled with their convoluted production and costly upkeep, rendered the idea of widespread robot reliance a financial sinkhole.

Not to mention there was a sense of redundancy in the whole idea: Humanity’s planets teemed with excess populations, making the demand for robotic labor almost laughable. This redundancy extended to both civilian and military applications. Why throw away billions in credits on high-end tech when multitudes were willing to risk their lives for a fraction of the cost? Plus, the combat efficiency of WarBots was passable at best, not to mention their exorbitant price tag.

Ross kept exerting force on the hefty crate, endeavoring to push it further back in the van. As he neared the point of giving up, a spark of ingenuity flashed in his mind. Why not just use a gravity disc to make this stuff easier? He departed from the van and proceeded to the storage room. Post-foraging, he returned with a GravDisc in hand.

Resembling plates in size, these anti-gravity devices were designed to be placed beneath objects for easy movement. Safe usage demanded precise calibration; a requirement Ross overlooked.

With little concern, he dropped the disc onto the van's floor, knelt beside it, and began to look for the activation switch. How do I activate this fucking crap?! After a brief search, he found the button, embedded on the left side of the device.

The anti-gravity shockwave from the disc erupted suddenly, catapulting Ross into the air. He hit the nearby van interior, knocking him out immediately. A safety mechanism then shut the disc down. The cargo, miraculously intact, had been moved to its intended spot by the blast.

A different worker passing by observed the open cargo compartment.

“Can't these idiots ever shut the damn cargo bay before they bugger off?” the worker muttered under his breath. Oblivious to Ross's unconscious state, he forcefully closed the cargo doors.

*****

Andreas navigated the van into the hangar bay, his stolen worker's uniform allowing him to avoid scrutiny from the sparse number of staff inside. The hangar appeared almost empty, with few personnel left.

All this was a meticulously orchestrated charade. The hangars' closure under the guise of maintenance was part of Andreas's scheme, where each element was calculated with precision. The stakes were high, for failure meant not only the loss of potential wealth but a far greater cost.

Moving further into the hangar's depths, Andreas brought the van to a stop near a diminutive cargo shuttle, observing it through the windshield.

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The cargo compartment of the shuttle seemed precisely sized to accommodate the van, intentionally so; a more substantial ship risked attracting scrutiny.

Andreas fished a small remote from his pocket, aimed it at the shuttle, and pressed a button.

Gradually, the storage compartment started to open.

He maneuvered the van into the cargo space, exited it, and made his way to the cockpit. Once seated comfortably in the pilot's chair, he initiated the engine startup sequence.

As anticipated, the clandestine protocols he had embedded in the system sprung to life. At this juncture, Andreas's role was passive. The covert programming he’d insinuated into the system would autonomously execute the remaining steps.

The shuttle gently rose from the hangar floor, making its way toward the exit. It gradually moved through the energy barrier that divided the station's interior and the void of space, moving steadily away from the station. The covert protocols appeared to be functioning as intended.

Andreas put his hands behind his head and leaned back. However, this feeling of ease was not to last long.

Near the controls, a sequence of warning sirens blared, accompanied by an alert from the on-board AI.

“Warning! Warning! Malfunction! Malfunction! The shuttle is off course! The shuttle is off course!”

Andreas remained serene, his expression bordering on disinterest.

Well of course it is you piece of junk, he murmured under his breath. He casually stretched his neck and let out a soft yawn. Indifferently, he peered at the warning-laden control monitor. Shocked by what he saw, his eyes ballooned in size, and he swiftly lunged at the monitor, gripping it fervently with both hands. “What?! No!”

Even though the shuttle was no longer using its navigational computer for destination guidance, it could still display its present location in space. The data showed that Andreas was not only off-course from his intended destination but was also continuing to drift farther from it.

How is this possible?! Andreas clutched the nav computer firmly, panic evident in his eyes as sweat beads formed on his forehead. This shuttle should be en route to the boys! Aren't the protocols executing? Where the blast is this thing heading?!

*****

“Eh…sir?” the scanner technician said, his antennas twitching anxiously for a moment, as he reviewed the new readings on his monitor.

Close by, Bridge-Commander Teflar rapidly turned to face the scanner technician.

“What seems to be the issue?”

“An unidentified ship appears to be approaching us,” the operator replied. “The ship in question is traced to one of the nearby orbital facilities.”

Silence hung from Teflar, but his snout's expression unambiguously showed his swift grasp of the dire situation. He instantly reached for his communicator.

*****

The unceasing buzz elicited an irritated groan from Kaz, who grudgingly rolled over in bed to grab his communicator, whiskers quivering in mild vexation.

“Captain on the line,” he replied, his speech slurred somewhat by late-night drowsiness.

There was a near-hysterical timbre in Teflar's voice.

“It is imperative that you report to the bridge immediately!”

Ordinarily, Kaz might have questioned the motive behind the late call, yet these occurrences had recently become routine for him. He now regarded it as simply another facet of this unusual mission.

“Twenty minutes and we'll be there.”

“Time is of the essence!” Teflar said anxiously. “You must report immediately!”

“Acknowledged.” Disconnecting the communicator, Kaz carefully shifted into a sitting position, then stood as his feet contacted the floor.

Agozi had likewise been stirred from her sleep at this juncture.

“What's the emergency this time?” she murmured; her words laden with drowsiness.

“Teflar has summoned us to the bridge.”

“At these hours?” she spoke in a low voice, all the while rubbing her eyes. She pushed herself out of bed. In contrast to Kaz, the late-night calls still bothered her, evident in her visible irritation. “I’ll go get us some refreshment.”

“No time to spare, Teflar demands our immediate presence.”

A quick jerk passed through Agozi's whiskers and snout.

“Go figure.”

*****

The bridge crew was noticeably on high alert when they arrived. Right away, Teflar greeted them as they entered the bridge.

“They’re coming!” he said anxiously.

They swiftly grasped Teflar’s reference. A fleeting twitch in their whiskers showed brief agitation, soon replaced by calmness.

“You're suggesting they're in the process of making contact with us?” Kaz asked.

“Confirmed,” Teflar replied. “We have detected an incoming shuttle, traced to one of the nearby orbital facilities, that is on route to our location.”

Kaz gave himself time to completely grasp the situation's significance.

“Deliberation is not an option,” he said sternly. “First-contact is upon us! We need to quickly mobilize all key staff and assemble at the hangar.”