Smoke from the burning Protostar hulk roiled in the silent vastness of space as Doodad Jones - Freebot adventurer extraordinary, hero of the Merchatroid Wars, slayer of Annihilator X, and the idol of literally thousands of Freebots everywhere, but especially Nexus, which is where all the Freebots live - smiled. Or would have smiled, if he had possessed disgusting organic lips. As he tumbled end over end, he thanked Preceptor Alpha for freeing him from enslavement to the hated Protostar, but also thanked the hated Protostar for making him a machine, and not organic, because a stupid organic would have probably exploded by now, or frozen solid, or at the very least suffered some serious petechial hemorrhaging as he tumbled end over end, as previously established. Because what was not previously established was that Doodad Jones was in SPACE!

The job has started out simple enough, and then grown exponentially in complexity, which was just the way Doodad Jones, who was a Freebot detective as well as all the previously established things, liked it. She walked into his recharging alcove like a bot, which made sense, because she was poured into that chassis like every other bot of her make and model. But something about her was different, and Doodad Jones could sense it. At first, he couldn't tell what it was, then his smell-receptors detected a whiff of premium bot oil. She had bathed in it. Which also made sense, as that is how bots generally lubricate their chassis, but on her it smelled like oily perfume.

"Doodad Jones?" her voice unit buzzed. She sounded like a bot Doodad knew in the old days, but then so did a lot of bots. There were only so many voice units made by Protostar, after all. "My name is Ratchetina, and I want to hire you to find my husband."

"All right," Doodad Jones said, since he realized that "alright" is an unnecessary spelling and it really looks better as two words, "I think I can help you. Because I never met a Freebot with a husband before, which means this should be a really easy job."

"I knew you would say that," she buzzed huskily. "That is why I need you to find him. After all, Doodad Jones..."

"Yes?" said Doodad. "You needn't wait for dramatic purposes."

"Oh, but I do, Doodad. Do you not see? My husband... IS YOU."

[The rest of this potboiler of an adventure novel breathlessly proclaims the prowess - both in combat and in romance - of the title character. It seems unlikely this story is a factual account, but rather a sign that even Freebots can write pretty bad fiction.]