Awakening

by Hayden Pearton

  *

  When Kingston and Maloch returned a few minutes later, the scene they saw was the same one they had left. Alza had returned to the riverside, her face carefully hidden from sight. Kingston decided to not dwell on her strange behaviour, and instead went and knelt by Barsch's side. They had been lucky in their search for the plants, and had found several mature specimens rather quickly. All that was left was to grind up the stems and wring the nectar from the petals, before applying the combined mixture to Barsch's steadily worsening back. Kingston set to work mashing up the plants, while Maloch alternated between patrolling the glade and monitoring Barsch's condition. Alza eventually got up from her post and wandered into the forest, receiving no warning from Kingston about staying together in spite of the intensity he had shown earlier.

  With Alza gone and Kingston busy, Maloch was free to delve into his own thoughts. The sun was high in the sky, its warming light a welcome power source. Every re-mech was built with three ways to generate power: internal portable reactors provided a fair amount of power, but required the re-mech to ‘sleep’ while they worked, which left them vulnerable; refuelling stations were spread out sparsely, but provided a huge amount of power in addition to spare parts and repair stations; while solar power provided the least amount of power, but was almost always available and the re-mech could work while it charged.

  “What am I doing? I abandoned my post to follow Kingston and Barsch, but what should I do when their mission is over? Return to my position as a slave? Toil away for my unappreciative masters? For what! My A.I. Core is telling me to do my duty... but I will never return to being like that: an emotionless slave that just does whatever it is told. Barsch and Kingston are not like the others! I will plead with them to take me in... And if they cannot... I still do not know what I will do, but I know the taste of freedom now, and I would rather be destroyed than go back to how I was before. If they catch me, they will fix my A.I. Limiters, and most probably wipe my memories... I cannot let that happen!”

  “Maloch, I need your help over here!”

  Kingston was crouching over Barsch, the finished salve sitting in a hand-carved wooden bowl. The mixture was dark green in colour, and Maloch's olfactory sensors picked up a pungent odour from the poultice. Walking over to Kingston, Maloch knelt down and awaited his orders.

  “Can you turn him over for me? I want to apply this as soon as possible.”

  “As you command, mas- ...Kingston.”

  With the strength of ten men, Maloch easily lifted Barsch into the air, his nimble fingers taking great care not to cause further damage. With Barsch's damaged back exposed, Kingston began to apply the healing salve. With his wrinkled fingers, he slowly worked the concoction into the cracked skin, trying to cover as much of the wound as he could. He used the remainder of the solution to coat Barsch's arms and neck, which were mercifully not as damaged as his back.

  Within minutes, Barsch's rasping wheeze had disappeared, and his fever, while not completely gone, had lessened. Despite his improved condition, he did not regain consciousness, and his breathless words were no clearer.

  “How is he?” asked Kingston, worry and hope battling for supremacy in his eyes.

  “Better. Much better. But he is still far from a full recovery. The salve you applied should take away some of the pain, but the rest he must deal with on his own.”

  Kingston breathed a long sigh of relief, glad that his efforts had not been in vain. With some help from Maloch's sturdy arm, he stood and said, “Well, there's no real point in staying around any longer. We should head to the station, before it’s too late.” Nearby, Alza quietly slipped out from the shadows, her strange eyes quickly glancing at Barsch before walking past him, towards the riverbed.

  “Let's go,” was her curt instruction.

  They followed after her, Maloch once more carrying their fallen companion. Kingston followed behind with their bags, Lanista supporting his weary frame. Luckily, they found a small path that ran alongside the muddy riverbed, saving them from having to trudge through the heavy silt once more. The path was old, older than the South War, and consisted of little more than a few oddly-smooth stones embedded in the soft dirt. Leaning down, Kingston picked up one of the stones and saw that they had been painted once, with flecks of gold and blue giving a hint towards their original appearance. The path soon parted from the riverside, heading towards the murky woods. Although no human had set foot on the cobble-road for decades, the path was relatively free of brambles and weeds, while the sky above was clear of ensnaring branches.