DogForge

by Casey Calouette

  Denali didn’t know what to say. The usual fire inside of her seemed to have gone out.

  “They fought ‘til the end,” it stated. “I kept them alive as long as I could,” It said. “Are you? No, not a dog, they’d send a man.” It looked to the corpse next to it. “Can you find a man?”

  “They’re gone,” Denali said.

  “His name was James,” the bot said sadly. It brushed a crisp lock of hair off the drum tight face. “He was my friend.”

  Denali stood in silence and felt the fear trembling inside of her. She didn’t know if she could stay or go—either way, she had to do something. The cool stillness of the place was getting to her.

  “Twelve hundred.”

  “What?” Denali asked, surprised.

  “Twelve hundred years, Terran Standard, corrected for position, stabilized for oscillation, variance quoted for dark matter crossing.”

  The number was big. Bigger than any Denali had ever heard. The time meant nothing to her, it was simply a very long time.

  “Do you have a name?” it asked.

  “Denali.”

  It nodded. “I knew a Denali once.” The face seemed to lighten and the eyes changed color to a more pleasant blue. “What do you want, Denali?”

  Then she found herself telling the bot everything. She didn’t know why. She couldn’t place the feeling, but there was something about seeing a man, and speaking with something a men created. She told it of her family, of the other dogs, of the attack by the skelebots, and her reason for being. It did nothing but listen.

  “Tribal society,” it muttered, and nodded. “You seek a Vee core.”

  “Vee core?”

  “There is only one left here. We were once so common.”

  “Where?” Denali asked, creeping closer to the bot.

  It tapped its chest. “I’ve no use for it. Please, release it.” It pointed to the top of a cylinder with an aged plastic finger.

  Denali crept closer one paw at a time, not quite sure what to expect. She didn’t trust the thing, but she wanted what was on its chest.

  She reached out, tapped the center, and jumped back. The canister popped out with a click.

  “Once it’s out, things on this vessel will fail.” The voice wavered before snapping back. “There was much damage in the fall. So much. I can’t see it all.” Its voice drifted into silence before kicking back in. “They will be let loose.”

  A cylinder of metal, as large as her forearm, slid out. The bot plucked it out gently and set it onto the floor with a clink. A low hum and a breath of air stirred the room.

  “Leave me. I’ve wanted to die for so long.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Cicero,” it said, and the blue lights dimmed.

  Denali snatched up the cylinder and ran.

  A gust of air greeted Denali when she entered the hall. She sniffed the air, sensed danger, and ran.

  Each door along the path was open. Rooms were filled with debris and wreckage.

  The first skelebot lurched out from one of the rooms. Denali barely had the time to rush past its legs. It seemed drunk, slow, as if woken from an old sleep. It swung clumsily at her and fell against the sloped floor. It struggled to stand behind her.

  Denali sprinted. She breathed in gasps past the cylinder clamped in her mouth. She could hear noises behind, her but didn’t dare look. Her exit was just ahead, she could see the grate.

  Behind her, the noise rose into a clatter. She snapped her head around and saw a second bot climbing out into the sloped hallway. It thrashed through the debris like a beached fish.

  There was a click and a slow steady scratch. Denali turned her head back, dreading the sight, and saw another skelebot crawling out from the darkness towards the shredded grate.

  She gritted her teeth. The adrenaline surged into her. Her paws slammed against the floor and she ran in the low trough of the slanted hall. A single leap took her over the largest pile of debris. Two more bounds. Two more!

  She bit down onto the cylinder as hard as she could. She wasn’t going to be able to stop. The skelebot struggled against the floor and fell next to the grate.

  She rolled onto her back and pushed off of its metallic face with her rear legs.

  The shock tumbled her and she scooted towards the opening. The skelebot screeched an odd sound. Denali’s front claws scratched at the opening as her rear legs flailed about. She could see behind her: more skelebots were coming.

  Her front paws caught on the edge of the vent. She’d never scrambled like she was now, her entire body felt like a coiled spring fighting to get inside. The heavy mass of the skelebot’s claw slammed against her, but only glanced against her hind quarter.

  She yelped and pulled herself in.

  She snapped around and backed away from the vent. A heavy claw pushed into the passage. It flailed about crashing into the metal around the grate.

  Denali set the cylinder down gently, cradled it between her front paws, and yipped wildly. Try and get me! She grinned at the arm, just out of reach, and felt triumphant.

  The thrashing stopped. The arm pulled back and light flooded into the narrow passage. The skelebot levered itself down and gazed directly at Denali.

  She’d never been so close to one that was still alive. She stared back at it and watched its unmoving face and unblinking eyes. The desire to antagonize it was gone and replaced with a certain sadness. The skelebot was normally devoid of anything except a machine rage—this one looked somber.

  Its eyes glanced down at the cartridge and back up to Denali. A moment later, it pulled back sharply and was gone.

  Denali picked up the cylinder and turned into the darkness.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Snow

  Denali knew it was snowing as soon as she emerged from the narrow passage. She could smell the snow. She’d been able to smell it since she was just a pup. A clean smell, a smell that was hard and crisp. It tingled the edges of her nostrils. That was when she knew she had a nose better than any of them. No one else could smell the snow.

  She stopped halfway out of the passage and listened. The sound was gone. No hum. No dogs. Just the touch of wind on the outside. And the snow she knew was falling.

  The hall sat empty. The sentinels of steel stood silently with a layer of frost on their shoulders. Where the pack gnawed on salvage there was nothing. She was alone.

  Then the gears turned. First the outer gears. A slow turn with each cog clacking as it fell into place. After that, a thudding sound as double cogs settled in. Finally, at the top and bottom, the last gears hummed and sang.

  Denali walked backwards with her eyes locked on the gears. Nothing good would walk out of those doors. She turned and sprinted away.

  The gears slid and the door creaked. It opened painfully and the skelebots burst out.

  She ran and felt fear gnawing inside her. It wasn’t just a fear of what was coming for her, but of what would come for the dogs in the camp below. She had to warn them. They had to get the pups out. The storm would give them cover. It had to.

  Then the realization hit her: this time it was her fault.

  Denali slid to a stop and set the cylinder down. She howled a deep primal howl with her nose pointed high. Every bit of her soul poured into that dogsong as it echoed down the empty halls.

  A single howl replied.

  She snatched up the cylinder and sprinted away. She snuck a glance behind her and stumbled when she saw what was coming.

  Emerging from the geared door were a dozen skelebots and a mechanical construct that rolled on tracks. The skelebots clutched axes and pikes. Each shimmered blue with a field of energy bracketing them. The vehicle with treads moved slowly behind with a single heavy club. It wore a skull that so large it was comical.

  Denali flew through the passage and emerged into the bright white. Snow fell and the wind blew drifts like waves at sea. The heaps of scrap below were barely visible through the driving white haze.

 
She pushed through the drifts and saw the first corpse. The dog lay with a sheet of snow covering his hind quarter. The caribou straps were severed and the sled flipped over. “Krunk,” she whispered.

  The snow gave her cover, but things seemed to jump out of the wall of white. With every gust the snow shifted and danced around her. Where it was once light it was now dark. Billows and drifts grew up and created things that didn’t exist. Her foot stumbled on something and she dreaded to look down, but when she did it was a metal claw. Dead.

  A howl sang on the wind. Someone was still alive, and close.

  Denali snapped her ears high, bit tight on the cylinder, and followed the howl.

  The drifts grew before her in mounds that scraped her stomach. In a matter of steps, her paws ached with ice driven between her toes. Clumps of snow melted and refroze on her ankles. Her eyes darted after each drift but still, she didn’t see another dog.

  A snarl ripped through the air. A clang and a hiss followed a thud and a sizzle. Through the snow a shape emerged, a heaving back of silver and black, that barreled through the drifts.

  Wisps of steam rose from Karoc’s mouth. “Come!”

  Denali turned and fell in place behind the larger dog. Karoc plowed a fresh path through the drifts and trudged his way down the slope. Stripes of red marked the passage as the shaman bled.

  “Where are we going?” Denali barked over the howling wind.

  “We’re leading them away.”

  “What?” Denali snapped back. She looked behind her. Silver shapes glinted through the sheets of snow. “Away where?”

  “There!” Karoc barked and turned to stand.

  The slope ended abruptly in a wall of white. Beyond was nothing but the swirling snows falling deeper into the valley.

  “Hold them here! Let them come, we’ll drive them down.”

  “What do I do?” Denali asked, her voice trembling.

  “Let them go over the cliff. Help me to toss them over,” Karoc said as he looked at her. “Prove them all wrong.”

  Denali turned with Karoc. Her tongue came out past the cylinder and she panted. She was so cold, and yet warm with fear. The animal side of her wanted to flee, while the conscience side knew she had to stay. Prove them wrong, she set her mind, she’d do exactly that.

  The first shape materialized in the winds and charged forward. It was lost on a gust for a moment and appeared again almost on top of them. The skelebot powered through the drift and leapt for Karoc.

  The larger dog deftly stepped aside. The skelebot flailed with its pincered hands and fell off the cliff into the white maelstrom. He grinned at Denali.

  “Use it against them! They don’t think.”

  Denali turned into the wind and tensed. The next shape came out and suffered the same fate. Then two more. Each rushed through the drifts and charged mindlessly.

  “Spit that damn thing out,” Karoc said, after tumbling one more into the valley.

  Denali shook her head and felt the snow drop into her ears. “I need it for the trial!”

  Karoc laughed and spat blood. “That’s the spirit!”

  Three more came and the first two ran straight for Karoc. The third hung back and watched.

  The first slammed into Karoc and the second came in close behind. Karoc ripped his massive jaws into one skelebot and thrashed it into the other. The second skelebot lunged out with a claw and latched onto Karoc’s front leg.

  Denali charged in and suddenly realized she had no idea what to do. So instead of doing nothing, she slammed the canister against the skelebot’s leg. There was a clang of metal on metal, a hollow sound, and the skelebot screeched.

  Karoc tossed the first skelebot off the cliff and savaged the second. The skelebot flailed and sailed into the white.

  The wind drove the snow in a gust that shattered against their fur. Denali stumbled and tucked her head low.

  The gust stopped and, as quickly as the storm came, it left. The wall of white marched down the slope and into the valley. Denali turned and was amazed, the clouds above the storm were nearly black. Above her was an icy blue with the shell of a broken moon high in the sky.

  “No,” Karoc growled.

  Denali spun back around. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears, it was the only sound she heard. Then the adrenaline flowed.

  The entire valley, from the broken structure down, was flooded with skelebots. And they were all headed straight for Denali and Karoc.

  “Run child! Run!” Karoc howled. He stood rigid, his back rising with his head proud in the air. His medallion, a mark of his station, was long lost to the snow.

  A skelebot, the same that had watched, stood impassively and waited.

  Denali snapped her head back. She couldn’t leave, not from the pack, he was an elder. “No,” she whimpered past the canister.

  “That one,” Karoc stated, “will die first.”

  “I can’t leave!” Denali cried out.

  “Go now, for the love of man, go!” Karoc pleaded. He turned his head with his large drooping eyes focused on Denali. “Go,” he said once more. He turned in the snow, raised his hackles, and charged.

  Denali stood and felt a chill down to her bones. Stretched out in the distance, like a steel wedge, the skelebots approached. Karoc, a lone warrior, charged through the drifts and tore into the first skelebot with a thunderous crack.

  The sound snapped her out of the moment and she ran. Her cold feet pumped through the drifts and she aimed herself along the knife edge of the ridge. Farther down, she saw a line of dogs covering the pass.

  Karoc howled after shredding the first skelebot and stood atop the steel corpse. A skelebot with a lance attacked next, followed by a trio with bare hands. His teeth flared in the icy air. Waves of steam rolled off of his wet fur. He turned, snarling, and attacked the next. The lance struck and he was down.

  Denali stopped. No, she thought, no! She turned, and almost started to run.

  He stood once more, a wounded beast, and tore the lance from his breast. That wave of skelebots fell beneath his steely maw, but more came. More, and more. Until finally the skelebots moved past the spot where he once stood. All Denali saw was a dark form surrounded by red snow.

  The icy air burned her eyes as she ran. Her teeth chattered past the icy cold cylinder. A stark sadness hit her. The same sadness as when Sabot had died. For a moment she wondered if they’d blame her for Karoc, too.

  A rise of gray stone and ice loomed before her. She sprinted around the edge and stopped in a clatter of stone. She yelped and dropped the canister.

  Waves of skelebots pursued the disappearing dogs. The leading edge savaged the dogs. Fur met with steel, but it wasn’t enough. The remnants of the defenders littered the snow and scree. Pockets of red snow were the only witness. Farther down, and nearly to the treeline, the rest of the pack fled. Pups, females, adults, with a ragged line attacking and covering the escape.

  “No!” Denali barked. She couldn’t let them go, not because of her, she knew she did it. It was the canister!

  She grasped it in her mouth and felt her tongue against the frosty metal. Was this what they wanted? Did they all hunt for this? She remembered when she struck the skelebot and how it reacted.

  She dashed over to a fallen skelebot. Her eyes watched the descending horde of skelebots and then she slammed the canister down.

  The skelebots on the rear edge turned and stared up the slope. The wails sang through the crisp wind. Skelebots on the battle line stopped the assault and looked up to the mountain.

  “Come!” Denali barked and slammed it down again and again. Only when she could see them all moving up the slope did she stop. What did I just do?

  The skelebots screeched. It was a mournful sound, a wail of loss and regret tinted with violence. Beneath they scrabbled through the rocks like savages, climbing one on top of the other. Even the treaded monster fought up the slope in a cloud of debris and shattered rock.

  Denali leapt over drifts of broken sno
w and clambered across the scree. Duty drove her. She didn’t care where she ran, as long as the skelebots followed.

  The line of skelebots climbed higher. Some floundered in the deep drifts while others moved with an animal intensity. They shifted, stumbled, but never stopped.

  She stopped on the backside of a drift and stared down at the valley. She could see the other dogs, like fleas on the white, moving into the safety of the trees. Her heart rose. Safe. She could almost pick out Grat and the line of pups with him. He’d never leave his pups, never.

  The thought hit her and she felt lost. Now what do I do?

  A snowy pass, like a ragged gouge in the mountain, peaked high above. Rivulets of snow danced and clumped before falling down the slope.

  She wondered how well the steel bodied bots could pass through deep snow. For that matter, she wondered how well she could. On the other side was the sea, and eventually the valley where the pack was going. Her pack. Her family.

  “Denali!” Samson cried out.

  Denali spun around and looked at Samson with wide eyes. The canister almost fell from her mouth.

  Samson ran toward her and nearly fell with every stride. He clutched his front paw tight to his chest and blood matted his fur. His tail tucked tight to his legs, his eyes wild with fear.

  A part of her said run. Leave him. For all he’s done to you. But then another part, the part that defined her, told her to stand. He was, at the most basic level, still her pack-brother.

  His eyes were thick with tears and red foam circled his mouth. “We need to go!”

  She turned and began to lope away. The pass was beginning to cloud up once again.

  “What about me?” Samson barked. The fear cracked his voice and he sounded almost like a normal dog.

  Denali stopped and dropped the cylinder. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

  Samson dropped his eyes to the snow and followed her.

  The two struggled through the drifts and would have halted if it wasn’t for the warming sun. Sheets of sticky wet snow slid down in cascades and creaked to a halt.