I began at once. The tip of my finger swiveled downward and a screwdriver emerged. I adjusted the settings. Instead of spinning clockwise, the screwdriver spun counterclockwise.

VRRRRP! The screw rotated rapidly—out/out/out—until I had removed it completely. It clattered to the ground.

One down. Nineteen to go.

I removed the next screw. And the one after that. A process I had performed millions of times before. All those converter boxes I had attached to solar panels over the years—this was the same action. Only in reverse. Instead of inserting screws, removing them.

But not quickly enough.

“We are running out of time.” I glanced at the metal claw. It would reach the container in nineteen seconds. I needed twice that amount of time to remove the rest of the screws. “We have to think of something else. Something more.”

SkD chirped. A bright symbol appeared on its screen.

The robot extended its mechanical arms. Flames sparked from its claws. Sharp/Bright/Red. On the solar farm, SkD used heat to solder wires together. But the fire was hot enough to serve another purpose.

To slice through steel.

Ceeron picked up the smaller robot, holding it up to the track. Flames hissed and sparked from SkD’s hands, turning the metal a bright orange/red color, cutting through the track.

I went back to my own task, removing screws. One after another. Time ticked away.

Fourteen seconds.

Thirteen seconds.

Twelve seconds.

The squeal of my screwdriver mixed with the sizzle of SkD’s torches. Our movements flowed together, forming a rhythm of their own. Three robots working toward a single goal.

It was like being back on the solar farm.

And it was also completely different.

Eight.

Seven.

We kept going, each of us performing our own unique/essential job. I started to remove the final screw when a sound echoed through my audio ports.

CLANK!

The noise was unmistakable. A giant claw grasping on to metal walls. Before I could disconnect the final screw, the container jolted into motion.

Up/Up/Up.

And out of my reach.

00110011

I watched the container lurch into the sky, carrying Emma with it. There was nothing I could do.

Ceeron, on the other hand . . .

The massive bot dropped SkD to the ground. An instant later, it leapt into the air.

Surprise buzzed through my circuitry. For such a heavy machine, Ceeron’s jumping skills were impressive. It launched off the ground, extending its long arms, grabbing hold of the container.

The shift in weight caused the huge metal box to swing from side to side. But Ceeron did not let go. It scaled the side of the container until it could grasp the spot where the door met the track. The row of missing screws and scorched steel. The weakest point.

Ceeron’s grip tightened. And then it pulled.

The final screw popped out.

The track burst loose.

Metal groaned.

So did Ceeron.