Among all of the various options available, two arms are the first ones suggested. The Ironside's left arm, and the Ibex right arm – not necessarily for their continued use though. The Ibex arm is just a placeholder, because it's the Zera right arm that seems most attractive. Since it is still attached to the Bogatyr, stuck behind jammed hanger doors, you'll need to get them open.

That's where the Ironside arm comes in. First, for a heavy duty way of forcing those doors open, and secondly, as a stress test, to see just how much your current frame and balance systems can support.

Choice Suggestion: Zera right arm appears promising. Equip Ibex right arm and Ironside left arm. Then force open jammed hanger doors to obtain Zera right arm.

“Zera...” your pilot mouths the word. He moves from your message, back to your part summary, finger tracing down the readout. “Pretty light, pretty fast, but not as much armor as the others... It has a phaser too... “Then he stops on one spot in particular. “RCT-ZRA2.RA,” he recites the part ID. “It's different than the others. Is that why? But what does the two mean...?”

After a few seconds of hesitation, he nods. “Whatever. If that's what the repair system says will work best.” He navigates through the menus to get the Ironside arm disconnected, as well as your own, and you send off the messages to get it done.

Meanwhile, he begins going over the arms himself, taking in their capabilities. “Damn that's heavy, will I even be able to keep this thing balanced...?-” he cuts short when you receive a message and put it on-screen.

Error: Arms critically damaged and cannot be repaired. Move to trash instead of Inventory?

In actuality, you received nearly identical messages, one for each arm, but you tweaked the text to combine them for your pilot. “Yeah, it's not like I've got any use for them anymore,” he shrugs it off and gives the go-ahead.

The repair bay continues, its work uninterrupted by the wait for your pilot's decision. It does also bring out laser cutters now that he's agreed to trash the arms, making significantly quicker work of the connections by simply slicing away the overly damaged portions it would have had trouble disconnecting properly.

The man returns to his reading, and you take the opportunity to to pursue a new suggestion from your subsystems. The lack of data on your current situation should be remedied.

According to this one, the immediate vicinity being devoid of humans is unusual, and cause for concern. As are the gaps in your own available knowledge, such as the complete blank you draw in regards to the Bogatyr and Fire Dog frames.

You take a quick look through your Secondary Storage for any available historical data. As expected, you cannot find anything useful. Even before the data loss, you hadn't seen much. Since that is a dead end, you try the repair bay instead, as it's the only external connection you have open right now.

You aren't sure where to begin, but after some exploratory prodding, you come up with something. Since it clearly has data on these parts that you don't, you try requesting access to its information storage.

There's a short pause, with another back and forth between your own Primary Control System and the repair bay, like some kind of handshake to establish trust between you. With that, you get access to another storage system, immediately recognizable as the same kind as your own.

While it doesn't have anything to tell you about the current situation in or around the hangar, it does have contain a plethora of information about different frames and their available parts. Without a second thought, you copy all of it into your own Secondary Storage.

Since your total space is somewhat lacking due to the damage, you cut out anything that matches your own data. No need for duplicates of the same information. While you're at it, you begin sifting through, half at random, and half allowing the new data you read to guide your search.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

In particular, you make sure to check the entries on the Bogatyr and Fire Dog frames.

Bogatyr – 9 meter, 70 ton. Classification: All-Rounder. Produced by the Russian Federal umbrella conglomerate in 2053. The individual corporations responsible are unknown. Appears to be a rebuilt Badang frame, but improved in every way. While somewhat more expensive to produce, it is vastly more effective, especially for its dirt cheap, mass produced price point.

Notable traits: Includes an artificial intelligence system capable of autonomous operation. Expected to become the go-to for HIAI units within the next few years.

Fire Dog – 10 meter, 76 ton. Classification: All-Rounder. Developed by HuNa Corp in 2050. General purpose all-rounder, designed for mass production, focusing on overall system simplicity. Loved by technicians for its top-notch reliability. Panned by pilots for its lack of high-end systems.

Notable traits: Great for training new pilots, thanks to its simplified controls and pilot assist system.

You continue to page through different entries, back and forth between your own and the ones you're copying, in search of any pattern to them, any indication of why you didn't have access to them before. Soon, you've finished the copy, and you have them all stored safely in your own Secondary Storage.

The search isn't helped by how there's little more than a blurb for each entry, but you do begin to notice a few patterns anyway. The ones you just loaded are generally taller, heavier, and newer. In fact, you haven't been able to find any from before the year 2050.

Then, you finally find it, and your suspicions are confirmed.

Comet – 9 meter, 55 ton. Classification: Prototype. An unfinished prototype frame released by Nova Corp in 2049. Falsely marketed as a medium weight all-rounder. Built entirely around first of its kind decision making and pilot assist AI systems, nearly all internals were left out due the product releasing in an unfinished state. All combat capabilities critically lacking. The frame saw little to no use during its limited production run before the manufacturer went out of business.

Notable traits: Death trap, do not use.

Leaving aside that you're apparently, an unfinished frame that should be useless in combat, you have figured out something critical. You only had information up to 2049, the year you yourself were produced. Any other frames developed after you were naturally missing.

Following that, you continue on to another idea. Even if you can't find anything about what is happening, you can get a handle on when. Only checking dates this time, you find that the most recent entry is for the Raven.

Raven – Released by Appian Cathedral, January 2055. Aerial frame, further data pending.

So, nothing more was recorded after early 2055, though you don't know why.

You have to pause your search as the repair bay finishes detaching your arms and your pilot selects to equip the Ibex arm. Turning your head enough to see the Ironside, the larger repair bay is still working, much more carefully, to remove its arm. “Guess I'll wait on that,” he comments, before he sends another look in the opposite direction.

Off that way, your detached arms are being carried off by a few of the large hanging clamps, to a place near the front of the hanger you can't quite see from where you're standing. It's right behind the repair bay the Octagon is hanging at, also still in the process of having its legs pulled off thanks to your pilot's earlier poking about.

The trash must be over there, past the repair bay. Somewhere near the front of the hanger. While the Ibex arm is retrieved from storage, you stand briefly. Having no arms is... an experience. You aren't sure what kind. But it is unquestionably unique, having whole sections of your body missing for the first time.

After some time growing accustomed to the new experience, the Ironside arm finishes being removed, and you request that to be attached to yourself as well, and finally return to your earlier thoughts.

So, the repair bay's last updates end in early 2055. You can't think of any way to find the cause with access to nothing but part summaries. Even so, you run another search for anything relating to dates to see if there are any other patterns you can piece together-

Only to run straight into something that's incredibly obvious in hindsight. Your own system time, ticking up second by second, ever since you first awoke.

System Time: 3901710292

The numeric value isn't helpful. You have to check through your Secondary Storage, luckily finding that you still have the proper instructions for making the conversion to a readable date-time format. You do so.

System Time: August 21, 2093. 16:24:52

Whatever happened here, it happened thirty eight years ago.