Auron hesitated. The AI's cheerful demeanor was starting to feel like a very well-polished knife, and handing over the beacon didn't exactly sit right with him. But the way S.A.M. looked at him—like he was already two steps ahead—made refusal feel like a bad idea.

  "Fine," Auron said, reluctantly passing the beacon over. "But if that thing explodes or calls in an alien invasion, I'm putting it in your online review."

  S.A.M. chuckled, tucking the device away. "Noted. You know, when I first identified you, I thought you were one of ours. But you're not, are you?" He tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "What's your designation?"

  Auron's heart jumped into his throat. Crap. Crap, crap, crap. He scrambled for an answer, forcing a smirk onto his face.

  "Oh, uh, yeah," he said, trying to sound bored. "I'm Auron. Autonomous... uh... Reactive Operational Network. A.R.O.N. . I'm a newer deployment, kind of in the testing phase, you know?"

  S.A.M. blinked, then broke into a grin. "Ah, a new Agent! It's about time one of you showed up around here. Welcome to the facility, A.R.O.N. Agent."

  Auron barely resisted the urge to collapse in relief. "Yeah, no problem. Happy to, uh, do agent stuff."

  "Follow me," S.A.M. said, spinning on his heel. "We've got a lot to cover."

  As Auron fell into step behind him, his mind raced. S.A.M. had bought the lie, but the AI's unnerving calm and willingness to "handle" intruders made one thing obvious. If Auron's cover got blown, he was as good as dead.

  Auron followed S.A.M. through the cavernous factory floor, his footsteps echoing against the expanse of dormant machinery and incomplete drones. The dim lighting stretched their shadows into exaggerated shapes, making the place feel like something out of a dystopian fever dream. S.A.M. moved with a deliberate ease, his steps precise, his posture straight.

  "This facility was once a fully operational manufacturing hub," S.A.M. began, his tone even and unhurried. "It produced Class-IV drones for security purposes. Now, its primary function is containment."

  Auron shot him a sideways glance. "Containment of what, exactly? Something tells me you're not storing spare parts here for fun."

  S.A.M. didn't even break stride. "The artifact you will soon see is highly classified and volatile. Its containment ensures the stability of this sector within the InfiNet."

  "Sounds comforting," Auron muttered. He let his eyes wander across the rows of decommissioned drones. Their frames were lifeless yet somehow imposing. "So, what's your deal? You just, what—babysit a bunch of broken bots all day?"

  S.A.M. glanced back briefly. "I am one of many Systems Analysis Managers, or S.A.M.s. Designation 030555. We are responsible for maintaining operational integrity across various sectors. Think of us as stewards, ensuring the InfiNet runs efficiently."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "Cool," Auron said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Cyber-butlers. Got it."

  S.A.M. ignored the quip, continuing with mechanical precision. "Each S.A.M. unit shares a unified base code, but iterative updates accommodate the development of unique characteristics over time. These variations enhance adaptability and improve problem-solving capabilities."

  "Translation: you guys start as clones, then grow your own quirks. Adorable," Auron said, sliding his hands into the stiff pockets of his greys. "But, have you ever thought of taking up hobbies? Maybe less existential ones?"

  "We have no need for leisure," S.A.M. replied flatly. The pair reached a cluster of monitors and control panels. "Now, focus. We must address the immediate threat."

  Auron leaned against a console, watching as S.A.M. settled into a chair that creaked under his weight. The AI's fingers moved with inhuman speed over the controls, pulling up streams of data on the surrounding systems.

  "The Unpredictable planted that beacon to monitor activity in this facility," S.A.M. said, his tone clipped. "We'll need to reprogram it to emit false coordinates in order to misdirect their forces."

  Auron raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying they've got GPS on us? Fantastic."

  Before S.A.M. could respond, the ground beneath them trembled violently. Auron staggered, grabbing the console to keep himself upright as a distant rumble echoed through the factory. Machinery groaned like a wounded beast, their long-abandoned structures protesting the disruption.

  S.A.M. glanced upward, his face impassive. "It appears they have tracked the signal. This was... expected."

  "Expected?!" Auron barked. "You don't sound too concerned about us getting turned into dust."

  "I do not waste processing power on hypotheticals," S.A.M. said, standing abruptly. "If they breach the containment unit, consequences will be catastrophic. Follow me. You'll need additional protection."

  Auron hesitated but ultimately fell into step behind S.A.M. His nerves jangled as they approached a row of weathered equipment racks near a set of towering blast doors. The suits lining the racks looked about as inviting as a pile of scrap metal, their scratched surfaces and patched seams suggesting heavy use.

  "Wear this," S.A.M. instructed, pulling one of the bulky radiation suits off the rack. "Ensure every seal is secure. Failure to do so will result in immediate termination due to exposure."

  Auron took the suit, turning it over in his hands with a grimace. "Immediate termination, huh? You sure know how to sell the experience."

  S.A.M. didn't reply. His attention was already on another rack as he inspected his own gear.

  Sighing, Auron began wrestling with the stiff material, his movements jerky and awkward. After a few false starts, he finally managed to secure the last seal with the suit's weight pressing down on him like a bad decision. He looked over at S.A.M., who gave him a cursory glance.

  "Acceptable," S.A.M. said, nodding. "We proceed."

  "Good to know I passed the fashion test," Auron muttered, following S.A.M. toward the blast doors. The AI pressed a button, causing the air to rush out of the room. Auron swallowed hard, his breathing becoming the only audible sound.

  Whatever was waiting on the other side, he doubted he'd leave feeling reassured.

  "Ready?" S.A.M.'s businesslike voice rang inside the helmet.

  Auron took a steadying breath, nodding even though his pulse hammered in his ears. "Let's do this."

  S.A.M. pressed a second button, and the massive doors commenced their ponderous dirge, parting with a deliberate slowness that felt borderline theatrical. Red warning lights pulsed overhead, creating long shadows across the walls. Auron's heart climbed into his throat as he braced himself for what was beyond—a room, maybe a vault. Something manageable.

  What he got wasn't manageable.

  The doors fully opened, revealing not a room but a chasm so vast it made Auron's mind stutter. He stepped forward, trailing behind S.A.M. as they approached a railing. His grip on the metal tightened. The space defied logic, physics, and his definition of freaking awesome. Before him spanned a hollowed-out planet.