Kora and Reo have circled half the factory perimeter and are now coming around the other side. Their Mechs stop in front of several large loading bay doors, all open. The reactivated factory lighting reveals a mostly empty space with a few remnants of splintered crates and an open shipping container.

“Pretty much cleaned out,” Kora says over the Comms.

To her surprise, Reo begins to disembark from Bombardier.

“What—what are you doing?” Kora sputters.

“Watch my back, Ma Tua. I’m goin’ to take a closer look.”

Kora spins Templar around, anxiously scanning the jungle for any signs of hostility.

Reo climbs down from crouched Bombardier’s open cockpit and enters the expansive shipping area. Brightly colored safety and warning signs hang on the walls in the local language. A hardhat with the Blackbox Dynamics company logo lies upside down on the concrete floor.

Reo walks up to the shipping container, steps in. It is large but empty. Several heavy straps are affixed to the walls but no cargo has been loaded inside. Then Reo notices three heavy claw marks on one side of the container, having shorn straight through the metal.

Those look familiar.

He exits and walks around to the back of the container. On the ground is an abandoned clipboard. Reo turns it over and finds what appears to be a shipping manifest. It is written in the local language—he assumes Khmer—but there are numbers and other data points that might be useful. He folds the manifest and tucks it into the pocket of his flight suit.

Once back in his Mech, Reo Comms over to Kora.

“Found a shippin’ manifest, that’s about it. I think maybe our four-legged friends were meant to be in that container.”

“I wonder what the market is for killer robot cats?” Kora muses.

Reo studies the manifest under the light of his cockpit.

---

Chase shakes off, zips his flight suit, and flushes. He just barely remembers to wash his hands at one of the automatic sinks before leaving the restroom and wipes them dry on the front of his suit.

Crossing the hall, he enters the Security room where Hanami leans over a large computer console, intensely focused.

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“Any luck?” he asks.

“This is a heavily encrypted system. Even with the reboot, I do not have the necessary skills to access this.”

“So, nothing? We can’t view the security camera footage? Incident log?”

Hanami slowly shakes her head, staring daggers into the computer screen.

“If a member of the Squadron had expertise in hacking, that might make a difference,” she says.

I know none of you have the necessary skill. Maybe there is a relevant training program available at headquarters. But that will be too late.

Hanami lapses into silence, contemplating the problem.

Chase paces around the security office. A wall of monitors has come to life showing real-time closed-circuit television displays from the cameras all over the factory. The place looks different with the lights on. Modern and antiseptic, but still a ghost town.

Something in the back of the room catches his eye. He goes to investigate as Hanami fiddles with the computer.

Partially obscured behind a support pillar and lying under a sheet of bubble wrap is a large, rectangular black box—the size of an enormous instrument case, or even a coffin. Lying on the ground next to the box is another creepy robot mannequin, legless with dead eyes staring up at the ceiling. Chase kicks the mannequin away and squats to examine the box.

He finds several latches elegantly flush along one edge. He opens the heavy lid and looks inside.

What is this thing?

The object looks like a giant unlit Olympic torch—larger than any one person could carry. It has been carefully packaged in this bespoke container with the Blackbox logo.

“Hanami, come take a look at this…”

Giving up on the computer, Hanami walks over and carefully studies the item.

“What do you think this is?” Chase asks.

“Something that was left behind by mistake. If we are able to take this back with us, perhaps Doctor Yi and the others can analyze it.”

Chase shuts the lid and turns the box over onto its side.

“Ugghh! It’s heavy. Really heavy. Oh, thank God—there are little wheels on the bottom like a suitcase,” Chase grunts. He also finds a handle that pops out to help guide transport. “Really heavy baggage, like my last girlfriend who always overpacked. I mean that literally, not like heavy emotional baggage. But now that I mention it—"

The Comms on Hanami’s portable drone monitor chirps.

“Guys, you hear me?”

Reo’s voice.

“What is it?” Hanami replies.

“It may be nothin’, but we found a shippin’ manifest near the loadin’ docks and an empty container. I think it was meant to transport those robots that attacked us.”

“Understood.”

“But, if I am readin’ this correctly, there should have been THREE of those things.”

Chase and Hanami share a quick look. Chase is unnerved by the eye contact from Hanami—a rare and slightly unbalancing occurrence. But at the moment he is more concerned with the implications of what Reo is saying.

Just then, the pale robot mannequin’s hand clamps tight around Chase’s ankle, mouth falling open and eyes twitching in its head. It begins chattering loudly in a language Chase doesn’t understand.

“GAAHHH!” Chase yells, scrambling for his firearm.

Hanami instinctively jumps back from the flailing robotic torso.

Chase fires a shot directly into its forehead, the sound of the gunshot reverberating painfully loud in the enclosed space. The mannequin goes limp.

Then, from somewhere in the factory—a horrible metallic shriek that makes Chase’s blood run cold.

Hanami walks over to the bank of security monitors and Chase runs after her. He frantically looks from screen to screen.

Movement on camera seven. The atrium.

Behind the large greenhouse windows, jungle foliage rustles and sways violently. Then—CRASH!

The third robot lion breaks through the glass, scattering tables and chairs.