Chapter 7 - The Unwanted Cargo
Jack turned his head slowly, his eyes locked onto the tiny silver-and-blue machine standing in the dirt pit. He looked around the empty meadow, half-expecting a hidden camera crew or a military helicopter to burst out from behind the tree line. But there was nothing—just the quiet river, the warm breeze, and a knee-high alien robot staring at him with bright, expectant turquoise eyes.
"Did... did you just call me daddy?" Jack asked, his voice an octave higher than usual as he took a slow, timid step back toward the dry land.
The robot's digital face screen flashed a pair of happy, crescent-shaped eye icons. It took two quick, clinking steps out of the loose soil, its small joints whirring smoothly as it trotted across the green grass straight toward Jack's dripping wet boots.
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"Unit 04 tracking anchor locked," the robot announced in a cheerful, synthesized voice. "Primary guardian identified as: Jack Miller."
Jack stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his abandoned tackle box. "Wait a second. How do you know my name? What are you?"
