The Black Pod

by Martin Wilsey

  She waved to him over her shoulder as she descended the ramp calling for Lane. As Adams watched, she jogged quickly toward what remained of the forest, with Lane running alongside. Her heavy boots left clear tracks in the ashes of the clearing.

  Adams wondered about her family for the hundredth time as she disappeared into the charred skeletons of trees that were still standing. She looked like she knew where she was going.

  “Box, keep an eye out for them. Close it up.” Adams turned away as the hatch slid closed.

  ***

  He took a shower, put on a fresh set of clothes and managed to eat only a protein bar.

  He climbed the ladder to the dome level. Box had the external view turned on. It was as if Adams were on a round platform about four meters from the ground. He walked in a circle around the command chair and console in the center. The late afternoon sun shone brightly on the fire's devastation. The landscape was black and gray in every direction.

  “It has a kind of beauty,” Box said. Her computer generated avatar had appeared. It seemed like she was standing on a ledge just on the other side of the dome, her hand clasped behind her back. She stood at parade rest. She wore a standard security team flight suit. Her ginger hair was longer than shoulder length and moved gently in the breeze. Looking over her shoulder she said, “We should move the pod.” Adams said nothing.

  “We are far too exposed here.” She looked again out over the vista as Adams sat heavily in the chair. He pounded a button on the extreme right and the entire console receded into the floor.

  A flock of birds flew by overhead. They looked like geese. He didn’t know for sure. It occurred to him then that he had never seen a real one.

  He drew out his Glock and set it on top of his right thigh.

  Box remained quiet but present. She changed her position now and then. Always looking out. Always in his field of view.

  Sundown came early, and it was spectacular. He thought the smoke may have contributed.

  He fell asleep.

  His chin was on his chest. He snored lightly as Box watched over him. The twilight deepened and it became full dark with a sky full of bright stars. The moon rose and was brilliant. Even over the charred vista, it was dazzling.

  Adams slept as Box kept silent vigil. There was no sign of Wynn.

  ***

  The sun was just rising over the forest-covered mountains in the east when Adams began to stir. He raised his head as if he had been asleep for only a moment.

  “Box, any sign of her?” Adams asked quietly.

  The command chair faced directly south according to the augmented reality annotations on the dome. Box was standing on the ledge to Adams’ right, the sun and the breeze on her face. He stared at her red hair as it drifted in the breeze. He marveled at the beauty, detail and complexity of the simulation. He felt empty inside. He was denying all except this very moment.

  His hand came to rest on the Glock.

  “Tony…” Box turned her head toward him and the breeze blew the hair from her face.

  “Yes, Box.”

  “I am so very sorry for your… loss.” Her voice cracked.

  When Tony looked up, she had her hand over her mouth like she was trying not to cry. His reaction was explosive.

  He threw the Glock at her, screaming, “Don’t you do that! Don’t you dare.” He was on his feet storming up to her even before the gun had stopped clattering on the floor, “YOU were supposed to keep them SAFE! It was your primary function and you FAILED!”

  He stopped in front of her. Her face was in her hands as her shoulders shook. His rant continued, “I know we are in Survival Mode. I understand the protocols in Hostile Environments. Do not try to manipulate me. I feel their deaths, I have to bear them! Don’t mock me, or disgrace them!”

  His face was red as he screamed, “You have only one job left. Don’t muck it up.”

  Slowly Box raised her head. She whispered, “You think this is pretending? An attempt to manipulate you? I wish. You think I don’t know that I was programmed to have empathy? You think I don’t know that I was made to feel this? Because I do. Forced to feel the horror of it by brilliant men and women who thought that if I loved every man, woman and child on the Ventura, I would do anything to protect them.” Box was standing straight now, defiant. “Damn them for making me feel this, and survive… None of them thought of what it would be like when this happened. After it happened.”

  Box turned away then, drying her eyes on a sleeve as she walked ninety degrees around the dome.

  Tony watched her go as his anger dissipated. He had just glanced down at the Glock when Box called to him.

  “Tony, they’re back!” There was hope in her voice now. She was looking at him but pointing to the north. Wynn was there, jogging along at a comfortable pace with Lane beside her. He could see the cloud of her breath vividly in the sunlight, on the cold autumn morning.

  She wore fresh clothes and a cloak, and she was smiling.

  Adams turned from the tiny figures in the distance as he walked up to the image of Box and looked into her virtual eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Box. I am. Truly. We need to do something. Not just sit here. The weight of it is… Let’s find out what happened. Let’s secure the pod. Because… if we have a long haul ahead…”

  “Thank you, Chief.” Box whispered.

  “For what?” Adams asked.

  “For not dismissing me as just a machine.” Box averted her eyes then. She looked at Wynn in the distance.

  There was a long pause.

  “Box, I want you to care for me that much, and now her.” He gestured with his chin towards Wynn.

  Adams turned and was down the ladder with practiced ease. The hatch was already open and the ramp descending. He waited for them in the middle of the ramp. He could see her smile from a hundred meters away.

  She surprised him.

  Wynn ran up the ramp and threw her arms around his neck in a ferocious hug. Thrown back on his heels, he almost didn’t catch her. She was so light and so small, his moment’s surprised delay didn’t matter.

  “Keeper Adams. Come,” Wynn said as she released him. Their noses were inches apart. She wanted to know if he understood.

  Box spoke in his mind, Tony, look at her clothes. She has been somewhere we should investigate.

  “Yes.” Was all Adams said, drawing an instant whoop from the girl as she wriggled out of his grasp. She began to pull him down the ramp by the hand.

  Lane watched all this with curious, intelligent eyes.

  “Wait. Let me get my things.” He was pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. She stopped tugging, understanding his meaning. She hesitated for only a moment, then ran ahead of him into the pod.

  She whistled and Lane trotted right in. Adams saw them both disappear into the bathroom, but only Wynn came right out. She started to put protein bars from the kitchen in a small brown satchel she had with her now, under her cloak.

  Adams walked in to get his gear and walked past the bathroom to see Lane drinking thirstily from the toilet.

  Shaking his head, he got his tactical vest and pack from a locker and put them on, then retrieved his suppressed AR. Absently he checked his holster for his Glock. It was there and secured. He didn’t remember recovering it.

  Two minutes later they were down the ramp and away.

  He had missed her voice, even if he could not understand her words. It reminded him of birdsong.

  ***

  Adams realized two hours later, as they crossed an area that was still green, that they were on an actual path, moving north. Not quite a road, though Wynn could follow it, even in the most heavily burned areas.

  His gear included a Fly, a small surveillance drone that was integrated with his Heads Up Display. It patrolled around them and could function as a secure comm relay to the pod and Box. The Fly revealed on an elevated survey that the strip of land they were on was about a kilometer across with lakes on each side.

  I
t was burned almost entirely flat.

  After the third hour, they had been climbing up toward a ridge, elevation increasing. It was very steep and Adams looked up at it with the expression of someone that doesn’t like to climb.

  Lane ran ahead.

  Everything here was burned to cinders. Winds from behind them would have blown the fire up the hills all the faster. The rain had since washed the ash away, and the path was passable and easy to see.

  Walking now among large broken boulders, he became wary. This was the perfect place for a trap. The rocks were all taller than his head, cutting off his line of sight.

  Box whispered in his mind. Tony, something isn’t right. Lane has disappeared. It has gotten too quiet. Even the birds have hushed here.

  Adams ordered the Fly to be returned and follow them from above. A small window opened in his HUD, showing the Fly’s point of view. It was rapidly descending and coming up on them from the rear.

  It was almost too late.

  Were it not for the Fly, Adams would have mistaken the new Telis Raptor for Wynn’s pet, Lane. But Lane could be identified from above, on the path ahead, facing off with a larger Telis. Lane was easy to identify from the asymmetrical scorching of his mane.

  Adams activated automated targeting and red flagged eight of the beasts crouched in the boulders around them. He manually changed Wynn and then Lane to the designation ‘Friendly’ just as the first Telis attacked.

  With the ease of practice, he brought his rifle to bear. He fired and was on to the next target before the first beast’s dead body had even crashed to the ground mid-lunge.

  “Run!” he called to Wynn. She didn’t question or hesitate. She ran. It only took a few moments before they were standing behind Lane. Tony’s rifle barked and cycled. The huge Telis facing Lane fell with a bullet through the eye into its brain.

  On his HUD, he could see them coming from behind like the flood from a broken dam. He turned and his gun began dropping them as he slowly walked backward. The beasts kept on coming, right over the bodies of their pack mates. Eleven of them lay dead, nearly choking the path between the rocks.

  Then he was hit.

  There had been an overhang in the rocks that concealed a Telis directly to his left. As he was backing up the path, the beast had struck him hard on his left forearm with its cruel tail spike, so hard that he was knocked to the right and almost dropped the rifle. His arm was laid open to the bone in a deep gash from wrist to elbow.

  Before Tony could draw his Glock or the Telis could strike again, Lane crashed into it, clamping his jaws around its neck. Lane’s tail hit the other Telis in the ribs over and over, stabbing deep each time until it no longer moved.

  Tony pressed his right hand as best he could to close the wound. He didn’t feel it yet, but knowing what arterial spray was, he knew it was bad. He had med supplies in his pack, but they would do him no good if more of those things came.

  “Box, I need a secure spot to fix this,” Adams said as he examined the gash. It was a mistake.

  Wynn was suddenly pulling him up the trail to a shelf that backed against the sheer face of the wall above. She pushed him to sit. Without a word, she forced him down as she untied her simple cord belt. She wrapped it around his upper arm and using a green branch she had quickly cut to length, she cruelly tightened the makeshift tourniquet around his upper arm.

  Quickly and quietly she cut strips from the hem of her cloak to tightly bandage his arm and fashion him a sling. Lane stood guard just below them.

  When she was done, there was no hesitation. She had Tony back on his feet and moving quickly through a great fissure in the cliff face. Lane brought up the rear as they moved.

  The gap in the cliff they traveled, showed tiny strip of sky above was getting closer as they walked. Tony kept the Glock in his right hand as he watched ahead. Lane was out of sight behind them when they emerged from the crevasse into another world.

  The bluff behind them had stopped the fire. It was lush and green here. In the distance, he could see a vine-covered stone tower. A small inlet from the lake helped create part of the moat around a keep wall that surrounded the tower. All was overgrown.

  It was less than a kilometer away. He knew then that he could make it.

  ***

  They crossed the mossy bridge as his vision was beginning to tunnel. There was a small door to the right of a massive double door in the Keep’s wall. The hinges didn’t even squeak as they entered and closed the door behind them.

  The cobblestone courtyard had a running fountain in the center. It was simple but artsy in its own way, with a sphere in the center of the pool covered in glyphs. The water flowed out of a hole in the top center. A broad sill went all the way around it, suitable for sitting. Adams took off his sling and gear and placed it all on the sill before he sat.

  He opened the side of the pack and withdrew the trauma kit. He pressed the injector to his thigh and it filled his veins with ice. It was as if a cold breeze had blown away the fog that caused the tunnel vision.

  Wynn was talking constantly now, apparently trying to dissuade him from unwrapping the arm. She helped him in the end. The trauma kit was designed to be used one-handed. He allowed the wound to fall open, then sprayed it full of medicinal nanites. Wynn helped him seal the wound with medical adhesive and clean the arm with individual towelettes that sizzled to the touch and seemed to eat the blood and dirt. He finally sealed it up with a clear med-bandage that he painted on the full length of the wound.

  Tony took meds that would quickly stimulate blood production. He was already thirsty. He emptied his canteen and refilled it from the fountain as Wynn watched.

  With is left arm throbbing and his fever already climbing, he opened a ration bar and offered it to Wynn. She shook her head at him as she lowered a wooden bucket into the water. Lane walked up as if he knew the drill, and she poured the bucket over him, again and again.

  She scrubbed him until all the blood was gone and she was sure he wasn’t injured.

  She talked the whole time.

  Tony looked around himself. The walls all around were made of massive blocks and went up about ten meters. The wall was about two meters thick, based on the arch where they entered and there was a walk around the battlements at the top. Everything was covered with vines.

  The courtyard was about thirty meters across and overgrown with scrub. All of it was intact but overgrown. The vines and scrub were untouched by the fire.

  The tower made up the entire east end of the Keep. The top was about thirty meters higher than the wall. Where the walls met the tower was the only access to the upper part of the wall.

  “Box, are you seeing this?” Tony asked the air.

  Yes. Are you thinking what I am thinking?

  “Do it. No rush. Conserve all the maneuvering thrusters you can.” He said. “I need to sleep.”

  I will be there by dawn.

  Adams discovered that the tower was empty except for dry leaves and cobwebs. Wynn lived here alone and occupied a small kitchen off the side of the smallest building. He would later learn it was the night servant’s kitchen.

  The Fly patrolled and mapped the Keep. Tony slept.

  ***

  The next morning, thirst drove Adams out of the small warm room. His canteen was empty, so he headed to the fountain to refill it. Box had landed the Black Pod so quietly inside the walls that not even Lane had stirred in the predawn. He lay on the floor in front of the fireplace’s embers. Wynn was nowhere to be seen.

  The Black Pod looked like it belonged there. Like it had always been there. The dome of it sat among the tall grasses and struggling saplings. Its ramp came down neatly to the edge of the cobbles and managed to balance architecturally with the tower at the other end.

  Adams drank an entire canteen and then refilled it again.

  “Good morning, Box. How are you feeling today?” he said as he walked up the broad staircase to the massive doors at the base of the tower. One of the do
ors was ajar.

  When he entered, the avatar of Box was waiting inside. Adams knew he had to be careful talking to Box this way because he was the only one that could see her via his personal HUD.

  “I’m feeling much better. You?” As usual, she stood at parade rest, examining the room.

  “The nanites are going to drive me mad with the itching. Fever isn’t too bad though. I’ve had worse.” He looked at his forearm; the sleeve had been cut away.

  “This room is really something.” Box said, “It’s half cathedral and half throne room.” It was empty except for a raised dais at the far side with a great stone throne at the top of thirty wide steps. There was no dust. No cobwebs on the finely carved seat.

  Tony climbed the steps and sat.

  A light autumn breeze came in through six tall, high windows that faced the dais. Outside wind blew in and the dry leaves stirred. This room was designed around this chair. He was surprised how comfortable it was. The biggest fireplace he had ever seen was directly opposite the throne, across the vast room. It had a carved wooden mantle that must have been a meter thick and five meters wide. It was flanked by massive doors. The door on the right must have been covered with vines outside. He had not noticed it from the courtyard.

  Box waited.

  She climbed the stairs and sat on the top step. She also faced the six tall windows. Sun was beginning to peak over the wall and through the windows.

  “It’ll do.” Tony had a new tone in his voice. It was noticeable enough that Box turned her virtual head toward him. The look of confidence on his face showed he knew the road ahead may be long, but he had trained for it.

  Just then, as the sun reached him, Wynn entered the room, Lane right behind her. Adams did not say a word as she approached the base of the stairs. She glanced up at him and bowed formally, not setting foot on the steps.

  She straightened up and held her head high, looking him straight in the eye. She spoke in English. Clearly and slowly.