Stepping through the portal, Tyra, Warden 3, and VerTwo find themselves in a alien cityscape of gleaming metal, the green disc of the portal hovering behind them in between two arms pointing skyward, almost but not quite meeting. All around them, robots go about their daily business or gawk at the newcomers, roughly humanoid and human-sized, but carrying wings, wheels, and other vehicle components in odd places, many of which don't look like they could possibly be useful where they currently are on the bearers' bodies.
Sitting incongruously in the middle of the alien street is a red and blue Peterbilt 379 semi truck, attached to a long trailer. The trailer's sides have been folded down, revealing compact, futuristic lab equipment that looks more like the technology of this world than of Earth. A squat alien building sits behind the truck, on the other side of the street, simpler and more worn than the gleaming skyscrapers to either side. It's been roped off, and pedestrians often glance at it as they walk by.
Closer to you, and perhaps of greater concern, stand two robots, substantially taller than the others at closer to eight feet tall than five or six. One is stocky and red, with grey accents and a broad chest adorned with a prominent symbol like a stern, blocky, red face. He has a tube-like contraption attached to his right shoulder. It almost looks like a weapon, but is capped with a lens. His companion is slender and slightly shorter, mostly white with some red and pink accents, and the same red symbol attached to her pink 'helmet'. She's carrying a white, pistol-like weapon in her left hand, pointed at no one in particular for the moment.
"Excellent! Organics! Exactly what we required," The red robot says happily, "Just as I hypothesized, our subspace distress signal would be detected by sympathetic parties, who could then be groundbridged to our location. And we got organics on our first try! I had assumed we would need several trials in order to secure the correct sort of assistance."
"We might still need to, Perceptor," The pink and white robot points out, "We still have to convince them to, you know, enter an ancient and possibly structurally unstable temple infested by ravenous scraplets, find an ancient artifact, and get it out of there without getting it or themselves eaten. If they're not up for the danger, we're gonna have to send them back and try again. So... How do you all feel about risking your lives for likely inadequate physical compensation and a warm fuzzy feeling inside whatever your species uses instead of a spark?"
"Please, Arcee, I'm sure we can come up with adequate physical or monetary compensation for services rendered," Perceptor asserts.
"I dunno, I value my life and limbs pretty highly," Arcee replies, "Sure, scraplets prefer metal to meat, but they're not exactly geniuses. Anything that moves might be worth at least a nibble, and leaks are a lot harder for organics to patch than on us, even if the scraplets probably won't keep chewing on them."