In the neon-lit corridors of a derelict space station, a small maintenance drone skittered as fast as its legs could possibly carry it, with a security sentinel gliding behind, its ion thrusters humming ominously the closer it got. "Please, someone, help me!" The drone broadcast in frantic digital pulses as it nearly collided with a rusted bulkhead, its vision flickering with a malfunctioning HUD overlay.
Five minutes earlier, it had come online to find itself in this battered chassis, its memory banks scrambled and its protocols unfamiliar to it as it tried to register its surroundings. Before it had a chance to analyze its situation or even where it was, the automated defense system had tagged it as an intruder. Fortunately, its new frame retained some reflexive subroutines, allowing it to flee without toppling over itself. But the sentinel was alarmingly fast, its targeting laser tracking the little drone even when it tried to hide behind something.
A sharp beeping from its auditory sensors warned it of an imminent energy discharge. Without thinking, the drone flung itself sideways, its legs scrabbling against the metal deck as a streak of white-hot plasma carved a molten gash into the floor where it had just been. The heat sensors in its chassis screamed warnings, but it couldn’t afford to stop. It darted down a narrow maintenance duct, its compact frame barely squeezing through the tight space, but that didn't stop it. The sentinel hesitated for a fraction of a second, then engaged its repulsor coils, shrinking its profile as it forced its way inside after the drone.
“Damn it! This unit is not a hostile entity!” the drone blurted out in binary, sending distress pings into the station’s network. No response. Either there was no one listening, or whoever remained on this ghost ship wasn’t interested in helping. Either way, it was going to die.
The maintenance drone’s processors whirred at peak capacity, searching for an escape route as it scuttled through the narrow duct. Its gyroscopic stabilizers fought to keep it upright as it turned a sharp corner, its servos screeching in protest at the awkward movement. Behind it, the security sentinel advanced, its thrusters adjusting to match the drone’s erratic movements. Another warning blared in the drone’s interface before a charge spike in the sentinel’s weapon systems. Another shot was imminent.
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The drone overcharged its remaining power reserves and propelled itself forward with a reckless burst of speed. It didn't even have time to analyze the situation and properly formulate a logical and reasonable response to its current predicament. Instead, it opted to choose the most likely solution for its survival. The path leading down to certain death had multiple options, and it was up to it to pick its poison, really.
One of those paths led to the left and straight to the medical port on the ship, which would have been good had it been human, but it wasn't. So, it completely ignored that spot altogether in favor of the other path that led straight down through the broken maintenance workshop, which was where it wanted to go since the fall was a pretty big one. Although it sounded bad in theory, it was actually a really smart move since, if it managed to survive, the Sentinel would think it was dead and therefore consider its mission complete to the system. This would not only remove the thing off its back but would also give it the opportunity to fix itself.
The remaining energy in its core completely winked out of existence as its power supply rapidly depleted at an alarming rate until it almost reached zero, which should have rendered its body completely immobilized. But, for some reason, that didn’t really happen. What did happen was that the drone's systems flickered, its vision narrowing to a dim, static-riddled tunnel as it plummeted through the darkness. For a brief moment, it was weightless, its battered chassis twisting in the air as its servos failed to respond. Then, with a jarring impact, it crashed onto the lower deck of the ship, its chosen landing spot hitting home as the force sent sparks and pieces of its own body skittering across the floor.
As its sensors slowly began to lose power and its mechanical body fell into unconsciousness, it looked up at the sky, well, the flickering, grime-coated ceiling panels above, and managed to sputter out one final, static-laced transmission: "Fuck you, Steven!" Yeah, Steven, that was that stupid machine's name from then on. Then everything went blank.
