Fiction: On the trust and verification of dangeous artifacts

We're out in the cariboo at 312-03:45:22, stringing. Double-checking the vitals on slug-like hubs, each chloroable synthimal a queen to a thousand lazy drones. Squishy little creatures. Hiding in gopher holes, under scrub, between scraps of shale. They keep an eye on the neighbours, their heaps and tailings. Just like the neighbours keep an eye on us.
( Science-Fiction Narrative )