Sometimes being an overachiever is over rated.

Lieutenant Fredrika DeWitt crouched in the shadows and waited. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders and cursed herself for forgetting a helmet liner. Like a lot of desert areas, the small world of Kragus was blistering during the day and frigid at night. A great horned owl hooted from the scrub surrounding her stakeout. The nights here were always dark except for the glitter of some nearby asteroids.

She rattled the coffee thermos to see if she had missed anything and wished she had brought a larger one.

I was sure that they would hit the yard tonight; she thought. Whoever is doing this knows when a large shipment comes through. I made sure today’s load was big and advertised.

Fredrika was trying to find out who was stealing from the base storage yards. She worked for Naval Intelligence, but the base didn’t rate a Criminal Investigation Division, so she was wore both hats. It wasn’t bad though, neither CID nor Intelligence was a busy job on sleepy Kragus.

This isn’t much of a promotion, she thought. Kragus is almost as boring as Terne Orbital Station, her previous posting. Well, at least I’m not working for Hazy Grey anymore. Fredrika had gotten the new assignment shortly after her old captain, Harrison “Hazy” Grey, got himself shipped back to HQ in disgrace.

I wonder what Gus, Nan, and the rest of the crew of Corvus are up too? She mused. Probably tucking in to one of Zia’s gourmet Sicilian meals and enjoying a nice bottle of vino while pushing a block of ice down system. Fredrika’s stomach growled and her mouth watered at the thought.

Her CCTV remote feed went blank.

Show time!

The yard lights failed next. Fredrika fired up her helmet’s night-vision display. At the limit of its range, she could see some movement at the gate. It swung open and a tracked vehicle with a turret gun mount clattered through towing a trailer.

That’s a bot tractor! she thought. It was in terrible shape, the body dented and caked in greasy dust. Its turret mount pointed off center, and one optical sensor was dead. What is this? I expected a gang of regular petty thieves, not bots. What would they need to steal for?

A gate on the trailer plopped down and several bots deployed down the ramp. She could see they were old models, and as worn out as the tractor. Some limped, others flopped along with missing wheels. One even dragged itself through the dust with its arms. They attacked the piles of scrap and rooted around among the crates.

Did the Island of Broken Toys send out a war party? They seemed to work with a purpose.

“Subject bots are acting in a deliberate pattern. Units are scanning crate idents and picking only certain ones for theft. They are carefully removing items and replacing the lids to hide the thefts,” she whispered into her recorder. “Several bots are hooking up a tow chain to a Light Tactical Vehicle carcass. There is an old model General Repair Maintenance bot that looks to be directing them.”

The bots moved fast. They loaded the trailer and strapped items to the tractor. They finished and locked the gate behind them.

As soon as they left, the yard lights came on and the CCTV system did a reboot.

Fredrika stood and stretched. “Damn, that was slick!” she said. She checked her helmet timer. “Twenty-two minutes in and out and the place looks exactly the same. Nothing out of place except for some tracks.” She laughed to herself. “Good thing I attached a beacon to that LTV. Right then, off to bed.” She gathered her thermos. “A girl needs her rest to remain in top form.” Her posh accent seemed out of place with the battle dress uniform and camouflage face paint.

“This the one, Dirk?” a male voice said.

“Yeah, Joe, that’s her,” said Dirk.

“What are you waiting for?” Joe complained. “Cap her already. I’m freezing my ass off.”

Before she could move, Fredrika felt two capacitor stun pellets hit the back of her thick jacket. They stung and bounced away.

Fredrika spun to see two puzzled men. They wore regular Kragun desert runner garb of mottled browns and tans. Each wore a shemagh over their face. Fredrika ran.

“Shit, she’s gettin’ away!”

I guess no one ever told them a capper won’t work through winter battle dress, she thought as she dodged through the shadows.

The yard was on the edge of the orbital lift-port field and bordered by warehouses.

If I can get to a warehouse, I can lock the door behind me.

Fredrika could hear the men puffing behind her and she increased speed. Damn, this coat is hot! She didn’t dare take it off in case they capped her again. Who are these guys, and why are they chasing me?

It made little sense to put out all this effort to cover up a little petty theft. She made it to the warehouse and keyed in her command level over-ride code. Fredrika made sure the door locked behind her.

She ducked down an aisle and stopped to look at the door. She saw the lock turn green and open.

They have the door code, she thought. Fredrika ran again. Automatic lights came on as they sensed her.

“Hey Dirk, isn’t that something? Them lights are showing us right where she is.” Fredrika could hear them talking.

“You can stop running, sweetheart,” Dirk called. “We won’t hurt you. The boss just wants to talk.”

“Come and get me, you wankers!” she called back.

Dirk asked, “What’s a wanker?”

“Dang, if I know. Hey, she dropped her glove.” Joe said.

Fredrika headed towards an area that was already lit up. If I can trigger enough lights, they won’t know where I am. She zig-zagged through the aisles, doubled back, and wriggled into a crate, silently closing the lid.

Fredrika could hear the pair walking the aisles and talking.

The one called Dirk said, “This is taking too long. Did you bring Sniffy?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot we got her glove,” Joe said. “Okay Sniffy, find the nice lady for us.”

Fredrika heard a noise like a small circling bot.

“Come on Dirk, Sniffy’s got the scent.”

Fredrika held her breath as she heard footsteps and a soft electric whirring. The footsteps and whirring stopped. The lid of the crate flew open.

Dirk said, “Gotcha,” and pressed the capper against Fredrika’s bare neck.