Scrapwire's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Scrapwire pulled the metal panel from the wreckage and turned it over. Rust flaked off in their three-fingered grip. No markings. No maker's stamp. Just another dead end in a field of broken machines. Their life goal burned in their circuits like a faulty wire—to learn who created them and why. Every piece of scrap might hold a clue. Every discarded bot could share their origin. But today, like yesterday, the answers stayed hidden. They needed a new approach. The scrap field had given them nothing. Scrapwire headed toward the structure in the center of town—a sleek building where information got posted and shared. The Galactic Law Enforcement Office stood tall against the sky. Inside, notices covered the walls. Requests for help. Reports of missing cargo. Warnings about dangerous zones. Scrapwire scanned each one, looking for anything about bot makers or abandoned workshops. Nothing useful appeared on the boards. Scrapwire left and walked to the town yard where an EcoSort Bot worked through piles of discarded parts. The machine separated metal from circuits, sorting everything into neat bins. Scrapwire waited until it paused, then dug through the organized piles. They found broken servos, cracked displays, torn wiring. Their fingers moved fast, checking each piece for serial numbers or maker marks. A shard of hull plating caught their optical sensors. The metal came from something bigger—a crashed ship. Scrapwire recognized the scoring pattern from atmospheric entry. They traced the edge and found partial letters stamped into the surface. "Galactic Archive" they could just make out. A records ship. If any workspace held clues about their creation, it would be there. Scrapwire gripped the shard tight and set off toward the crash site. Today might be different. Today might give them answers.