I quickly peek around the corner, rapidly counting off all of the visible targets before I duck back behind cover. I’d use my visor’s lifeform scanner, but that doesn’t exactly work on synthoids. Oh sure, they’ll preach on and on about how they should be considered sapient, sentient, self-sufficient all kinds of other big ‘s’ words. If it’s an issue of rights or representation they’ll keep talking until your head explodes. But bring up the matter of how we need their energy signature so our biological lifeform scanners can detect their plastic assess and they suddenly go quiet and twiddle their thumbs.

Especially in cases like these, when I have a possible synthoid smuggling ring to deal with. The bucketheads may not like to acknowledge it, but free will means that you sometimes end up with folks doing illegal things. And when that happens, the law enforcements agents that have to clean it up need to do so with malfunctioning and underperforming equipment. I mean, I’m a navigator, so I’m more or less used to things going tits-up, but these other guys are not.

“I counted fifteen suspects,” I say in a low voice. “Which probably means there are twice as many inside. No sentries though, they’re not expecting visitors.”

“Roger that,” the squad leader nods. “Any signs of the contraband?”

“No. I saw an empty cage, though. Might be inside the warehouse, might be that we’re too late.”

“Got it. Stand by, I’ll go prep the men for the raid.”

I gave the man a nod and he slinked off around the far corner. I’m always impressed by how those soldier types can move so silently with all that gear and body armor. I guess the title of ‘Ranger’ isn’t just for show, huh? Ah, damn. I should’ve asked him to leave me a grenade or something. My navigator’s sidearm is like a fart in the wind compared to the kinetic automatic rifles those guys are packing.

Then again, I am basically just the wheelman, so there shouldn’t be a need for me to get involved. Still, I ready my gun and load the sole clip of explosive rounds I have. Some might call it overkill against a bunch of plastic skeletons, but those synthoids are much tougher than they look. Hell, I doubt even landing all twelve shots on a single target would take them down. The only upside is their audio/visual processors suck dick, so it’s really easy to sneak up on them so long as you don’t use a radio. That’s why we opted to wait for a night raid, as catching them by surprise would be a lot easier.

I warily peek around the corner to try and track the eight-man squad I brought here as they move to surround the suspects. It’s always fascinating to see them handle the terrain so expertly. Granted, it’s not like a warehouse district is a difficult place to navigate, but I have no idea how they managed to climb onto the rooftops of these smooth, hexagonal buildings. Speaking of which, what is it with the synthoids’ obsession with that shape? I swear, this entire plant is ‘hex this’ and ‘hex that.’ Everything from their vehicles to their buildings to their guns to their frickin heads has six sides, and that’s more infuriating than it should be.

I force out the stupid thought and focus on the task at hand. Even if I won’t do much, I need to be ready to provide backup should they need it. I spot one of the squad members - the leader, I think - atop the same warehouse those synthoids are walking in and out of. It’s pitch black where he is, but the massive residential spires behind him are all lit up just enough to show me contours of his silhouette. It’s how I’m also able to tell what hand signals he’s giving.

‘Fall back?’ What the fuck do you mean fall back? Oh, ‘no evidence.’ Yeah, right. I bet my left testicle there’s a gonorian thunder lizard in there somewhere. There’s no other reason those synthoids would need an insulated cage big enough to house an elephant. But I guess since it’s nowhere in plain sight we don’t have ample evidence to go in without a warrant. Jurisdiction and all that.

I sigh as I pull a small six-sided pyramid from my utility belt. I hate to waste this favor on a bunch of nobodies like these, but I can’t just do nothing. I hide around the corner and give my people a minute or so to fall back and head towards the extraction point, then I flip the switch on the bottom. I can practically hear all of the bucketheads turn in my direction as their radio sensors pick up the sudden signal emanating from my beacon. It takes them a few heartbeats to identify the frequency before their plastic feet scramble to run, but it’s already too late.

Say what you want about the city of Serenis, but its local law enforcement is one of the most efficient I’ve ever seen.

Buzzing and searchlights fill the area within seconds as helicopter police drones swarm in out of nowhere. There’s a series of heavy thuds as law enforcement synthoids are air-dropped onto the scene. What follows is a lot of loud robotic shouting and a few energy weapon discharges as all of the suspects are rapidly apprehended and subdued.

“Report: Armed extraterrestrial spotted.”

Myself included, of course.

“Demand: Do not move, fleshling.”

One of the police officers shines his shoulder-mounted flashlight in my face while pointing his gun at me.

“Demand: Disarm yourself immediately. Warning: Comply or be subdued by force.”

I ‘comply’ with his ‘demand’ by carefully placing my sidearm on the ground and taking a few slow steps backwards with my arms in the air. The synthoid throws a tiny glowing cube on my gun, instantly encapsulating it in a blue forcefield. It looks just like a miniature Capture-Cube 6000™, which is unsurprising considering these folks are the ones that invented it.

“Demand: Identify yourself.”

“I’m a BMA navigator. Serial number five, five, three, six, eight, zero, five, one, seven. I was sent here to investigate a possible gonorian thunder lizard smuggling ring.”

I stared into the synthoid’s featureless faceplate for a tense few moments while he remotely verified my credentials and the reason for my presence. The Breach Management Agency is a law enforcement organization first and foremost, so it’s only natural we would check in with local authorities whenever we did one of these ‘stake outs.’ After determining that I was, in essence, a fellow cop, the synthoid policeman lowered his gun and assumed a more relaxed stature.

“Statement: Navigation unit identity confirmed. Query: Were you the one who called us in?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Query: How did you come into possession of a priority police alert beacon?”

“Q-L-thirty-fifteen entrusted it to me a few months ago after I helped resolve a breach incident involving his… child unit.”

Ugh, it feels weird calling them that, but it’s certainly more accurate than ‘kid’ or ‘son.’ After all, these synthoids procreate through construction, not breeding. They’re ‘born’ as full adults and it’s the duty of the ‘parental units’ to impart values of society, culture, morality, life, and all that other philosophical bullshit onto the freshly activated mind. They do this to ‘stimulate the personality matrix’ or some such. It’s honestly all a bit beyond me and my primitive ape brain, but I try not to belittle them for it.

Well, not out loud, anyway.

“Confirmation: Affirmative,” the buckethead vocalized at me. “Statement: Serenis Police Third Cluster officially recognizes your authority in this matter and requests your assistance.”

“You have it, but can I get my gun back? It’s coming out of my salary if I don’t return it at the end of my shift.”

“Confirmation: Understood. Statement: Releasing stasis field.”

I pick up my sidearm, unload the explosive rounds and holster it on my hip, then follow the police-bot onto the scene. I glance around, noticing a several scorch marks along the walls but no bodies. The suspects that resisted arrest were probably subdued by force and already sent off for questioning. If it were me I’d just access their computer-brains to see what they’ve been up to, but that’s considered highly unethical by synthoid society. Which is a good thing, I suppose. The last thing I’d want from a civilization of AIs is to have them operate on hard logic alone. That never ends well for everyone involved.

The officer that is escorting me, a fellow by the name of FR-42-10, led me into the warehouse proper. There are three more empty insulated cages here just like the one in front. I turn on my lifeform scanner but it continues to fail to pick up anything. However, I notice there appears to a trail of slime running off from one of them. I crouch down next to it and have my PDA try to analyze it. All of the synthoids look at me when I do that and let out a buzzing noise like a nest of pissed off hornets. I get it guys, you’re sensitive to foreign technology, but just bear with me for a few moments.

*DING*

“Hah! Knew it!”

“Query: You have found something, navigation unit?” FR-42-10 asked.

“Thunder lizard mucus, still fresh.”

To be fair, their forensics units would’ve probably picked this up, but they’re not first responders so getting here would take time those overgrown rhinos might not have.

“Looks like it leads to the back,” I tell the synthoid. “Shall we check it out?”

“Confirmation: Lead the way, navigation unit.”

The buckethead is surprisingly cooperative. Then again, gonorian thunder lizards are something of a serious matter for his kind. They originate from a Class-3 world and have the power to spontaneously conjure lightning through their inborn magic. Well, the eggheads back at base have a more scientifically accurate term for it, but I’m a simple man, so ‘magic’ will do. That stuff always makes technology go haywire, though. The conjured current those lizards produce is like a drug to these synthoids. It’s their equivalent of heroin, only the addiction is far stronger and effectively permanent.

Worst part is this wouldn’t even exist in this universe if not for the breaches, which is why these guys were so quick to recognize my authority and defer to my expertise. They’re technically not supposed to just do that because of laws and bureaucracy and whatnot, but that’s one of the upsides of not working with beings that operate solely on logic. They recognize when there’s a time for regulations and a time for action. In short - my kind of people. Robots. Whatever.

After following the thin trail of snot I notice it disappear suddenly into the back wall. I point out the spot to my escort and he unhesitantly blasts it with his energy rifle. This makes the weird plastic polymer covering the wall melt and peel off like jelly, revealing a layer of solid lead behind it. No wonder why my lifeform scanner wasn’t picking anything up. It works based on radiation so it can’t penetrate this stuff. Whoever built this place knew what they were doing.

A bit more wall-melting later and we manage to find a hidden doorway with a cargo lift of some kind behind it.

“Observation: This is an illegal modification that violates no less than thirteen articles of Serenis’ Storage and Construction codexes,” FR-42-10 helpfully informed me.

“No shit?”

“Confirmation: There is no excrement involved.”

Can’t tell if he was being serious or not. It’s times like this that faces are important, you know.

“Anyway, shall we investigate?”

“Confirmation: Let’s.”

I board the lift along with about twenty police-bots and ride it down to the bottom. When the doors open, we are met with the sight of two perfectly healthy thunder lizards hooked up to some machinery. They were likely being ‘milked’ for their physics-defying electrical current by the eight civilian-model synthoids that were down here. The cops quickly subdued the suspects and arrested them, then sent them off for reformatting or whatever it is they do to punish criminals.

As for the thunder lizards, they were put in a Capture-Cube 6000™ each, brought out of the warehouse and placed under my custody.

“Observation: There were four cages in total, but only two recovered extraterrestrials,” my new friend noted. “Suggestion: There might have been up to two additional specimens present here.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” I argued. “Thunder lizards aren’t the most hygenic of beasts, and two of those cages are positively spotless. If they housed anything, then they’re long gone.”

“Statement: Your opinion is appreciated, but disregarded. This is a matter of public safety and will be investigated fully.”

Though I sounded like I’m making light of it, it is a rather serious issue. Illicit currents aside, thunder lizard bones keep generating and storing a static charge even after their deaths. This can potentially result in an electromagnetic pulse that will instantly fry sensitive electronics through most forms of shielding. The synthoids might have plastic shells and limbs, but they’re still wires and circuits on the inside.

In short, if there are indeed more thunder lizards in Serenis, then they need to be found before they kill a whole lot of its people.

“Hey, you do what you need to,” I concede. “Just have your bosses call my bosses if you find any more of the beasties and we’ll take them off your hands.”

“Confirmation: Understood. Query: I’ve been wondering, why are they called ‘thunder lizards’ when they do not produce such a sound?”

“Huh. Never thought about it to be honest. It is a rather silly name now that you mention it. I guess it’s because we like to associate thunder with lightning.”

I have a feeling some of what I’m saying gets lost in my helmet’s auto-translation, but it’s the best answer I can offer FR-42-10.

“Statement: You meatbags are way too confusing.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” I roll my eyes behind my visor.

“Statement: I can, but I won’t.”

“Heh. You’re alright, F-R-four-two-ten.”

“Suggestion: Please, call me Ten.”

“You got it, Ten. And in case I forgot to say it, I really appreciate the assistance.”

I’d offer to shake his hand, but I know that’s not a custom here. A few other synthoids escort me towards the extraction point where the squad I arrived with was already waiting for me. I could tell the squad leader was giving me a mean look beneath that helmet, but he’s not the type to admonish others in the field. If he has misgivings with my conduct, he can file an official complaint with the relevant department. Not that it’ll do him any good.

I’ve gotten so many of those that even the complaint department filed a complaint against me. With themselves. For having to deal with so many complaints about me.

I honestly have no idea how I still have a job.