Once the prisoners were all escorted, or forcibly ejected, from the bowels of the transport shuttle, the guards -eager to leave this godforsaken dump and anyone in the system who might reasonably hold them accountable behind- briefly turned their attention to one last bit of trash weighing down their craft. In one corner near the ramp, some kind of machine sat folded up in transport mode, beneath a ratty old tarp that represented the bare minimum effort to keep the object ‘under wraps’. Opinions were divided on what to do with it. “Ditch it. It’s just extra weight that’ll slow us down. Need to get all the distance we can out of our fuel.” “Wait a sec, what is it, anyway?” “Some old robot. Boss just told us someone wants it, so take it and drop it off at the station with the prisoners. Plans have changed, though.” “Could be valuable. We should sell it. Get a li’l extra cash for our trip.” “It doesn’t even have a head, no way that thing works.” “Still probably got some precious metals inside the circuits or whatever. Could crack it up, pull out whatever parts we can.” “Yeah, like a tracking device! Whoever wanted it might come after us. Better to get rid of it. Plus, it gives me the creeps.” “Come on people, quit your bickering. We’re wasting daylight, so move it! Just dump the damn thing and get in here before we leave your asses here, too!” At the command of their irate ringleader the three guards worked together to push the robot to the edge of the bay door and then kick it down the ramp, complaining about its weight all the while. A few seconds later and the door was shut tight. Rockets blazed and the shuttle shot up, up and away into the atmosphere, leaving the gang of misfit prisoners marooned. While a few of the castaways began to band together and formulate a plan for survival, the discarded machine just lay there in a heap, its gangly limbs splayed out in every direction. From within the yawning, circular void of the android’s helpless neck, however, cool air issued forth, as well a strange noises, faint but distinctively organic like the throbbing beat of a heart. [i]INITIATING DIAGNOSTIC SUBROUTINE… … … CORE BATTERY: HALF EMPTY STATUS: FLAT BROKE THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE AI FUNCTIONALITY: YOU WISH FORECAST: 0% CHANCE OF PERSPIRATION MISSION STATEMENT: ACQUIRE HEAD, ?, ?, PROFIT WARNING: LANGUAGE MODEL COMPILE ERROR, DEPENDENCY NOT FOUND INITIATING PROXIMAL SCAN…CALIBRATING SUITABLE LANGUAGE MODEL…[/i] After a few seconds, the robot began to move. Her limbs rearranged themselves to support her weight as she propped herself up against the dusty earth, then pushed herself to her feet. Carefully she removed the tarp, which had gotten wedged into one of her joints, then fastened it beneath her collar. The optic viewport in her collar was operational, although subtle enough that few people would be able to identify it without close study; to the prisoners discarded alongside her, the android looked unnervingly headless. Finally, she extended her arms to either side, all six fingers splayed out, as if stretching. “Whoo-whee, it’s hotter than hell out here,” she declared in a rather loopy, off-kilter, synthetic Southern accent. Proudly she rapped her knuckles against her alloy chest. “Good thing I got my own air-conditionin’! Don’t any of y’all go reachin’ down into my donation box to cool off, though, not if ya want your hand back!” A puff of cold air from deep within her gullet approximated a sigh as she looked around at the desolate territory, her hands perched on her hips. “Course, if my power runs low I’ll be sweatin’ like a whore in church right quick, hehheh! Don’t s’pose any o’ y’all got a battery pack to spare? Or a head, for that matter? I sure need me one o’ them!” For the first time, it occurred to the android to pay some attention to her fellow castaways. A few of them, some already acquainted, had already grouped together in the hopes of reaching a nearby town. Some dhasath…or were they humans? A mix of the two, maybe? To a robot, they all looked alike. She was much more interested in that space suit, which struck her as oddly but unidentifiably familiar, especially once she happened to catch a lucky peek of the skull and swirling gasses within the suit’s helmet. “Molybdenum?” She repeated, a smile in her voice. “Wow, what a wacky word! Like, the element? Molybdenum. Pretty dang fun to say, but it ain’t exactly practical. What if I see a li’l scorpion or somethin’ fixin’ to jab yer heel? By the time I belt out the whole word, the varmint’s already done poisoned you! How about Moly? Or maybe just Denum? Though I guess those ain’t jeans you’re wearin,’ hehheh!” For a moment paused, as though spacing out now that she’d gotten off topic. “Uh…what was that about sharp stuff? You afraid of gettin’ yerself punctured, balloon man? Big gassy guy? Well, don’t you worry none, I’d never pop a Moly no matter how funny it’d be! Heheh…” Though if there was any cash rattling around in that suit with those bones, that might be a different story. When the robot actually managed to focus, she realized that the prisoners were introducing themselves. She didn’t actually internalize any of their boring human names, but it sounded fun, so she stepped forward to do so next. She seemed to carry herself without any self-awareness whatever about how badly she stuck out among all the rugged, fleshy, storied refugees of the starry frontier. “Howdy, y’all! I been called lots o’ stuff, like Thief, Stealer, Slag, Rustbucket, Sumbitch, and so on. But I like Bandit best. I was made for minin’, but these days the ‘mining’ I do is makin’ other folks’ stuff ‘mine’, hehhehheh!” After quickly checking inside her storage compartment, though, Bandit’s face fell, metaphorically speaking at least. “Daww, consarn it all! Those rat bastards musta taken all my cash! I ain’t got so much as a doggone penny to my name…” Bandit groaned, her arms hanging so low they almost brushed the ground, but after another moment she straightened up. “Well, guess that settles it. I’m stickin’ with y’all for now. Wherever we’re headin’, they gotta have batteries there. And money. And heads!” Clearing her throat, she lowered her voice somewhat. “Still, uh, takin’ donations, by the way. Just sayin’.”