Charger Chronicles 2: Charger the Weapon

by Lea Tassie

  Harris looked stunned and disbelieving. He stared into Charger's face, while his blood spilled down the back of the girl's clothing. His voice was almost a whisper as he asked, "What kind of monster are you?" Then he collapsed, taking the young girl down with him, as Charger released his hold on the handle of his embedded sword.

  Charger stared down at the two dead bodies on the floor. He grabbed the handle of his sword and, placing a foot on the bodies for leverage, drew it out and holstered it. Turning from the room, he went in search of a cup of coffee.

  More months passed as Charger made preparations for his people. He locked the city away from the agricultural area, sent all the remaining docked space ships out into deep space, and burned all the weapons and historical recordings the old city contained. The computer and the drone Taskers created small villages, where they placed the new humans and the livestock needed to sustain them. More wildlife was added to the surrounding forests, and primitive tools were furnished.

  Charger then destroyed the Taskers and wiped the computer systems, all but the basic code needed to sustain the villagers. He had retrieved the blinding field device from General Harris's body, repairing, reprogramming and using it for himself so the villagers could not see him.

  ***

  Dart speaks to Reader:

  Did doing all that make Charger happy? Well, Reader, I don't think that's the right word to describe Charger. But I'd say he was content.

  As the years rolled by, he wandered the forests and fields of the agricultural complex, observing the young people as they grew and the old as they died. A simple gas had been used to awaken the residents all at the same time so they could begin life unaware that other human races had existed before them, or that their ancestors had not always been here. They had been given the basic knowledge needed to produce goods and build societies. They spent their days sowing fields for crops, building homes for new families, and trading with neighboring villages.

  One other thing that Charger had given these people was a false memory of tales told by their ancestors. He'd noticed that humans liked having ancestors because it gave them a feeling that they came from somewhere, that they had a history. They had no photographs, no mementos, no concrete evidence of their heritage, but they seemed content with the false memories which over time developed into complicated stories and myths. All was right and good and peaceful.

  Like the stories I tell you? No, dear, my stories are true.

  Occasionally Charger would return to the locked city to make sure the systems all functioned properly. One day he wandered into the room where the rotted corpses of the young girl and General Harris lay. Charger knelt down beside the young girl's remains and tenderly touched her decomposing hair. "I wish I could apologize for killing you, for killing all of you, but the apology would be a lie. I cannot feel sorrow for your death, or pity for your stolen life. I cared nothing for any of you. I was given a task: save humanity, and I was not allowed to fail in that quest, no matter what I had to do."

  You're right, Reader, he does sound weary. But he's getting very old.

  Charger never returned to that room. He went on roaming and, much to his own surprise, finally found friends he could talk to.

  ***

  Charger was talking to his tiger. "It's been quite a few years now and I've found peace. I finally feel free. I even like to stop and listen to the birds. I've walked thousands of miles by just picking a direction and heading that way. And I haven't even found it necessary to count the miles. This world is seeing more and more diversity of life as the computers do their job. And, about a week back, I found a great dark shoreline beside fresh water and I've been walking the beach ever since."

  Charger could only travel in darkness. Something about the light from the artificial sun caused him to catch fire. "I have not run into a single human in the past month or so. I wonder if the city's programs are limiting their growth, or just placing them far enough apart so they learn to appreciate solitude."

  The planet's temperature was always pleasant, but that made little difference to Charger. Being almost dead physically, he felt little need for warmth. He didn't bother building a shelter, preferring to rest under a large, shady tree during the daylight hours. He needed very little sleep. A skilled hunter, he killed wildlife only for sustenance. The blinding field he used never failed with humans. It didn't work with the animals, though.

  "Not sure what the computer was doing when it created tigers. These big cats are as dumb as a sack of hammers. This one started following me about six months back and has been with me ever since. Makes it a bit difficult sometimes when I run into humans, but we get by. Got to admit that I like having someone to talk to." Charger sat down on a log washed up on the shoreline, and stared off over the calm water.

  "I miss the stars! But otherwise, this world is perfect," Charger said to his tiger. When he sat down, it came to his feet and sprawled out on the warm sand. "I'm guessing this beach can't go on forever. The world is, after all, inside out." He had even found the ability to laugh again, though it didn't happen often. He had grown old finally, after more than three hundred years and, surprisingly, being old was a comfortable thought.

  The beach ended when Charger reached the entrance to the Valley of Shadows. The computer device he carried described the place as dark and oppressive. He thought he might like that. It took only a few more days of night travel before Charger found himself at the edge of a strange landscape. The trees were dead and rotten, the ground reddish in color, and the sun spread very little light in this area.

  "Well, kitty, let's hope there's something in these woods to hunt. If not, I may be forced to eat you," Charger teased. The tiger gave a deep, low growl of disapproval. "Ha, yeah, like I'm afraid of you," Charger responded. The two traveled for some time deeper into the forest. Charger sensed that he and the cat were being watched; he even caught a glimpse of familiar gold-colored eyes reflecting back what little light there was in this place. He thought he could detect a familiar odor on the wind, too. Something in the back of his mind was stirring.

  For a moment Charger felt concern for his little tiger friend. He looked down at it, then gave up his worry. "I guess a tiger could probably hold its own in a fight," he said, as he gave the beast a friendly pat on the head. The tiger hissed.

  Just up ahead, Charger saw a faint shimmer of light. Curious, he walked toward it. He came out of the trees at the edge of a small town, very small compared to his great height. The town seemed deserted, but that made no sense since the place was clean and there were items around that looked recent. A water bucket, some food on a plate, freshly washed clothing.

  "Something is wrong here. My blinding field is working, so who was watching as we moved through the trees? And, if they can't see me, why do they seem to be hiding? Or is it you they're afraid of?"

  Charger decided to sit in the middle of the town and wait for someone to appear. As he had no place to go, and didn't plan to die anytime soon, he felt he could outwait anyone who was hiding.

  Six days had passed when a small creature opened a door and carefully stepped into the street. Charger had no idea that this small being was in fact a human boy from the period of the Mahoud survivors, evolved to dwarfism, a common fate for people trapped on islands back on old Earth. The boy spoke, but Charger had no idea what he said.

  The tiger moved in to investigate the small being and Charger thought this might prove to be a bad thing. He picked up the complaining, clawing cat and placed it up high in a building. Then many small beings, apparently panicked, came running into the street. The small beings stood outside in the streets, talking excitedly, and tiger was inside the building, yowling to get out. "That worked out well," Charger thought.

  He peered at the people. "Strange little cat-eyed human-looking things in brown robes. Boy, if my dad could see me now." He had not thought of his dad in many years, and wondered if the old gas station had survived the war. Then he remembered. Nothing could have survive
d the iron shards.

  Charger tried in vain to get the little people to understand what he was saying. After much frustration, he decided the tiger might be the barrier to conversation. It took him better than a week to lose the tiger outside the Valley of Shadows before he could return to the strange little people who were able to see him even with the blinding field active.

  It took two years for Charger to understand the language of Mahoud; he was a slow learner when it came to words. "Good day, Ishtar, son of Imar, father of Gander." Charger spoke in a low tone so as not to offend the town's pub master. It was the practice to greet in such manner the people who provided food. "I return again for more of your gifted cooking; I mean well-prepared and delicious meals." Charger found the Mahoud language difficult to speak. So much of it depended on being nice and he still had a lot of work to do in that department.

  "Welcome again, Charger, son of Dodge, of the town America, your speech is improving, and your tone impressive, but I still do not feel kindness in your approach. You have far to go. Sit, please. My wife and I prepared an exceptional meal for you today."

  The one thing that these people did better than any other humans, anywhere, was cook. Their food was so good he always ate until his stomach hurt. And they always gave him plenty of meat.

  "I wish we'd had your people around during the wars. Bet we could have ended things sooner using food instead of weapons. Come to think of it, I bet your cooking would have made a perfect weapon. As it was, the military thought I was a perfect weapon." Charger took the custom-built chair in the only area big enough to hold his great body.

  "You still speak of weapons and wars, which is very sad. My wife and I hope for the day that this too will pass," Ishtar said, as he placed a huge bowl of hot food in front of Charger.

  Charger began to gorge, then stopped, realizing he forgotten courtesy yet again. "Many thanks for the kindness; I apologize again for eating before thanking."

  Ishtar responded kindly. "It's fine, my new friend. It has only been a few hundred days since your arrival, and we can be patient till you learn."

  Charger was comfortable around these little people because they were so kind. Though he lived with them for many years, he often left the town for long periods. He had to return to the locked city to ensure that the computer programs he had set in motion were still operating within his defined parameters. And, for all the many times Charger returned and observed the little people having families and the children growing, he never knew that they were the keepers of an incredible power that was tied to his own fate: the god fragment that had long ago been brought back from the center of the galaxy. But Charger kept a secret, too. He never told them that their ancestral city remained, and that he had access to it.

  The little boy who first appeared to Charger when he had arrived in the town had grown to be a fine young man, always looking for adventure. One day, he approached Charger and asked for a favor. "It wouldn't be too difficult for someone like you, and it would mean so much to our people if I could surprise them with this gift. With your help of course." Mestas used a pleading manner as was customary when asking for help.

  "Of course," Charger responded, though he realized the task would not be easy. "We can set off tomorrow if you like. The sooner we start; the sooner we get it done."

  Mestas was pleased with his friend's willingness to help. The statue of Visha had sunk in the great body of water and thought lost forever. If Charger could find it and bring it to the town, they could place it at the center of the square for all to celebrate.

  Visha had been the one responsible for guiding the Nine of Nines and the continent of Mahoud to this world. His name was revered as the greatest of the Nines ever to have lived. Thus the people of Mahoud had built a statue and a temple to him on an island in the middle of the lake, but poor soil conditions and magnetic forces from the city's old antigravity drive caused it to sink beneath the surface. The lake had been built by Taskers, with ice mined from asteroids.

  "What does it mean, 'the sooner we start the sooner we get it done'?" Mestas asked Charger. The two were packed and ready for the task ahead.

  "It's an old Earth expression. Every trip starts with the first step. Or, why put off till tomorrow what you can do today," replied Charger, sure this would explain things.

  "That makes no sense. One can only start when one is able to. Is this not true on Earth?" Mestas asked again as the two set off down the trail to the great body of water.

  "Well, on Earth, we use this saying as a way to motivate an individual to do what he says he is going to do." Charger hoped his explanation was clearer this time.

  "But by saying you're going to do something, of course you're going to do it. Why do the people of Earth need to be encouraged to do what they already said they were going to do?" Mestas asked again.

  Charger was getting irritated and slipped back into his old ways of dealing with matters. "The people of Earth are stupid, and rarely make sense. That is the order of things there!" Charger added a ferocious look to ensure the conversation was over.

  Mestas dropped the topic immediately. They did not speak again until they reached the lake. Mestas never even asked why Charger was carrying a large barrel on his back. The barrel had been used by the townspeople to hold grain. It was large and watertight, a container that Charger felt he could make into a submersible.

  Since Charger had no idea what the Visha statue looked like or where it was, he needed Mestas to go underwater too. They spent a few days on the shores of the lake, while Charger cut small porthole windows for Mestas to look through, using clear glass dinner plates. He sealed the portholes with sticky tree resin, and added several large rocks as weights. He tested the device several times and, finally convinced that it worked, suggested they would try their first descent next day. Mestas did not seem convinced.

  "I once saw a guy do this in a movie back on Earth. His head popped like a balloon and there was blood everywhere," Charger told Mestas as they prepared to enter the water. Mestas looked terrified. "Ah, I'm just kidding you, everything will be fine," Charger added, with a laugh.

  "I do not understand. Nor do I think I like Earth humor much," Mestas stuttered nervously.

  The underwater world was breathtaking; there were ancient relics and thousands of small colored fish so bright they almost hurt the eyes. The beauty of the life in this body of water was as diverse as it had been back on old Earth, and the water was warm and clear no matter what depths they plumbed.

  The first day was a short-lived bust. Mestas found that there was breathable air for only a limited time under water, and Charger was a little embarrassed by not having considered this. With Mestas red in the face, pounding frantically on the small portholes, Charger surfaced the small craft.

  The next few days were better as the two ventured farther out and deeper down in short jaunts, searching for the important relic. Farther out and deeper down still until, finally, just poking out of the sand and small pebbles on the bottom, they saw a raised hand. It was Visha, his statue buried deep. They were very proud of their accomplishment when they got it back to shore, and small Mestas danced a dance of great joy well into the night as their small campfire burned warm and bright.

  Charger discovered, that although he might be nearly dead by most medical standards, he was still capable of getting drunk. The town celebrated the gift of Visha's statue and small Mestas had thought it a good idea to share with Charger the spirits his people made. On the following morning, the consequences were apparent in Charger's inability to see clearly. His great mass and body size made for a lot of excitement as he rose, staggered about and broke things, much to the amusement of the townsfolk.

  ***

  One of Charger's ongoing tasks in his old age was the maintenance and reprogramming of the city's computers. He had to update and guide the development of the world's habitable conditions. He had chosen not to interfere with its human development, instead letting random acts of computer programming
develop their adaptation to life.

  He seemed now just a frail old man with only memories for companionship. His armor no longer healed him if he was hurt and his mechanical enhancements were corroded so badly that he walked with a limp. His blinding field often failed him, as did his cognitive capabilities. The village of the Valley of Shadows faded in memory. The people he once knew had died and their children had grown up and started families of their own, so he didn't bother visiting anymore.

  As Charger entered the locked city, he wondered if this might be the last time he did so, the last time he would have to fight with the computers. The huge doors creaked open, revealing pathways he had traversed many times before, and hallways that led deep inside the city. Delicious odors struck his nostrils, for he had programmed the computers, upon his arrival, to start a pot of coffee and make doughnuts, simple pleasures he enjoyed.

  After passing through several rooms and climbing many stairs, he once again passed the room where the mummified bodies of General Harris and the young girl still lay on the floor. "Not far now," he thought, "and I will be back where I started." It seemed to him that every time he returned, the hallways were longer, but he suspected this was just old age getting the better of his imagination.

  As he entered the main computer center, a computer voice welcomed him back to the room. "It is good to see you again, programmer."

  "It's Charger, you stupid hunk of shit, how many times do I have to tell you that?" Charger growled.

  "As per your last commands, all executable files have been activated. The biosphere is stable and animal populations are on the increase in several sectors, all is within the defined parameters, programmer." The computer voice sounded much as a telephone recording might.

  Rapping his old knuckles firmly on the surface of the computer's key pad, Charger responded, "Hey, stupid, it's Charger, not programmer, not mister, not sir, just Charger. I thought you were supposed to be smart?"