Henry left the control room, and as he neared his cabin, dream Sissel strode into the hallway. They smiled together and then stepped toward each other, enjoying a close embrace.
No words passed between them; just the warmth they shared, and then a kiss.
Sissel moved away then and led Henry into his cabin toward the bed he’d claimed as his own. Her cape fell to the floor and Henry stepped into her open arms once more, where the warmth engulfed their bodies until it became a fire.
When the flames went out, all was darkness. And Henry lay alone.
“I don’t know you, Henry,” she said.
“Do you dream about your parents, Henry?”
“No. I do not.”
Nineteen
Beast Mode
Henry had lost what little excess fat he’d had. For weeks, he had been subjected to a routine of waking up when the meager sun graced the Earth, then commencing two hours of cardio, two hours of strength, a break for lunch and then much of the same again. Henry’s body had taken a new shape. Muscles appeared where he’d previously had none. Even his back took on a new shape; a rock-face with new ledges cut from the shoulders to the lower back. His chest was the same, but his stomach was a grid of squares and rectangles where it been soft and uniform before.
To vary his training a bit, Hepburn had also insisted on Henry digging three other containers free from the snow and ice, to reveal their treasures. One container was piled with things labeled as rattan garden furniture and American retro-style fridge-freezers and boxes of electrical components.
The second container had been home to a number of black and gold painted statues of a man sitting cross-legged and the third contained a sleek, dark green and silver Duesenberg Model J Coupe, part of the same consignment that Henry had crashed and destroyed months before.
After some persuasion, Henry had got the robot to agree that driving the car would be good for his spirits. He got enjoyment from it and it took his mind from the demons that lurked in his brain matter, waiting to be summoned.
Hepburn had explained about the technology of the car. It knew much of its design and was able to recognize its materials, systems and controls. Like the previous Duesenberg, the Model J Coupe had a female hologram that congratulated Henry on being the new owner of the vehicle. The hologram wasn’t the apparition she had been before. Henry had seen other people, like Sissel, since and he’d seen other examples of old technology, like Hepburn.
If the car Henry had crashed had been beautiful, this was its meaner, bigger brother. The new car had blacked-out windows and a veneer of opaque panels akin to cockroach wings upon the roof, rendering a brooding appearance as it rolled across the ice. It reminded Henry of a dark storm cloud. Remembering another car in the family book he once cherished, he secretly named it. Fury; a word that summed up the mood of the car, and something Henry still felt whenever his mind wandered too far from the ship.
Not quite fitting into the vehicle himself, Hepburn was able to sync his own systems with the car’s and as Henry drove the vehicle, Hepburn’s voice crackled from the speakers within.
“Henry.”
“What is it, Hep?” he replied, happy to be taking the vehicle further across Lantic, further from the landside.
“Sir, I have detected a life-form in the vicinity. Two-point-seven miles from your location.”
“Lanner!”
“No. I believe it to be no threat. It is singular and does not carry weaponry. The creature, not human, has a faint heat signature. It is unconscious and its vital signs are dwindling. It may be a source of fresh food for you.”
“Take me to it. Meat is meat,” Henry replied, smiling, thinking about Father for the hundredth time that day.
“It will appear on your console now,” Hepburn advised and the screen before Henry guided him to a distant flag, where a creature lay, almost camouflaged by the snow.
Henry got out of the car and heard the mighty footsteps of Hepburn as it appeared next to him.
“Panthera Uncia. A snow leopard, if I’m not wrong,” announced Hepburn.
Henry had seen it once before. He recalled the day he and Mary had first discovered the ship. The beast had been much smaller then, just a bairn, but it had grown since, like Henry had. Up close, its fur was matted and unkempt, with buds of white snow upon it and a bloom of frozen reds where Henry supposed it had been injured.
The creature was conscious. It tried to raise its head at the sound of the robot and the human approaching, but it was weak and its head dropped. Henry took a few steps toward the animal, then knelt beside it, finally sure he wasn’t in any danger. He placed his hand on the creature’s belly to comfort it, where the fallen snow was only white. The leopard didn’t resist, accepting its fate. Henry thought of Martin, solidified in an underwater cavern, just as weak and exposed as this animal was. There were so many memories that would never leave Henry’s mind, and now here was another to add to a list of sadness.
“What’s wrong with it?” he said, stroking the animal tenderly.
“A stabbing wound from a blunt implement. It’s close to death.” The robot was absent emotion and did not conceal the fact.
“Lanner, I bet!” Henry was roused once more at the thought of his nemesis and recalled what Hepburn had said about his own injuries when he’d found him. If it wasn’t for the material of the battle suit, Lanner’s blade would have taken his life for sure.
“Shall I end its plight?” Hepburn leaned forward and extended its metallic arm, as if it would either smash or snap the life out of the snow leopard. The creature opened its eyes, as if it understood what was being discussed. Then it closed them once more, accepting whatever was to come, or perhaps not wishing to witness the final blow.
Henry remembered being escorted across the icescape, in and out of consciousness, taunted by Lanner and unable to do anything to oppose his tormentors. He pictured one of the Orfins standing above him; the one they had called Boo.
“What do you mean, plight?” Henry asked, concerned for the creature. He no longer felt the way he had when he’d driven toward its location. He thought once more of the words Mother had spoken to him as a child. He had a choice. He had an opportunity. He was human.
“Shall I kill it? The creature will most likely expire very soon.”
“No, don’t. Can you not save it?” Henry replied.
“It is not impossible if I act now. However, this creature, once healed, could pose a substantial threat to you. I recommend aiding its death. You need protein and this is an excellent source, in the absence of alternatives.”
Henry looked at the creature and saw how fragile it was, diminishing before his eyes.
Martin.
Father.
Mother.
“Save it.”
“This is not recommended, Henry.”
Henry moved his hand to the creature’s face and ran his fingers across its fur, tracing a line from its brow to its triangular ear. Up close, it was a beautiful animal. And it was dying.
“Save it, Hep. Or I go back to the Favela now and start my warring.”
“That is unwise. You are not battle-fit.”
“I know. And they would end me the daylight I arrive.”
The robot paused as it calculated the situation. This was unusual, as Hepburn was usually swift and decisive in his responses. Digital frown lines appeared on Hepburn’s faceplate.
“You are an effective negotiator,” it said finally.
“Save it. Like you did me,” Henry affirmed.
The creature lay on the tilted floor of the cabin. Its chest heaved as it slept after the ordeal of its operation. Henry felt like he was witnessing his own return to the land of the living, as if he’d watched the robot repair himself, so many months before. The only recollection Henry had of that was of lightning in a dome of some kind, so bright that he saw it through his eyelids. The same drugs pumped through the creature’s veins as they had his. Did the creature also dream of its mother
and father? Were they scouring the icescape somewhere, looking for it? Or had Lanner killed them too?
The creature stirred, as if it was amidst a dream. Henry nodded. He understood so well. They were akin, somehow. Brought together again, by the sun, or the moon.
He went outside, leaving Hepburn to reluctantly monitor the creature. The robot cited a waste of resources and vital medicine as Henry left the room. Henry did not care. Part of him wondered if the robot was jealous of the new arrival. Something that lived and breathed. Something not of the same species as Henry, but still, closer to him than an assembled and pragmatic machine.
He thought about someone finding one of his siblings in the snow and hoping the same mercy would be afforded to them. Life over death. Life over meat. It was not unthinkable that they might escape and find their way on the ice. He had, kind of.
And then the thought came to him: what if they no longer lived at all? He had not seen the girls in the Favela. What if they had all been killed, or worse? He could not trust the king, nor Lanner. A cold thought entered his mind. Could he even trust Sissel? He’d known her for mere hours, and spent just moments in her company. In his dreams, she was good. He was sure of it. She was his. But was it all a trick? Was she wicked, like the others? Henry tried to remember how she had actually behaved toward him. Had he missed something? He had not seen Skindred slip away to tell Lanner of his arrival that day. Had Sissel sent Skindred to squeal? Henry thought he could trust his own mind. But it had been so long.
Then his sisters came into his thoughts once more, as they so often did. Were they too now in other rooms beneath the ice? Preserved as they once were? Statuettes in ice, like Martin had carved of them.
Henry had no proof of anything. He had nothing but what was left of his hope. Hope that had been kept alive, because he had been. Henry had to care for the bairn creature. It was a welcome distraction. Another one to busy his mind.
He smashed a hole in the ice and finally caught some fish, taking far longer than Hepburn would have. When he returned to the cabin, the beast was awake. It paid no attention to Hepburn, but when Henry entered the room, it changed its posture and prepared to leap into battle mode. The creature bared its maxillaries like it had done when Henry had first faced it as a bairn on the deck of the ship. It extended its claws, digging them into the carpet of the cabin.
“Hey, no need for a war. I’m a friend,” Henry spoke softly.
Gone were its injuries. The only hint was a gap in its fur, where Hepburn had operated. Not even a scar was visible. Henry thought of his eye and the crude tear around it where the skin had reformed around the lens attached within.
“The creature is perfectly fine. A little disorientated. He doesn’t seem to like you, but you are, after all, human,” said Hepburn.
Henry put down his sealskin and placed his spear onto the floor. Slowly, he removed his fur coat, sending flakes of snow onto the once royal-blue carpet of the cabin.
“It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said and the snow leopard gripped the carpet harder with its claws, ripping a jagged shred of the flooring. It mewed, seeming to remember Henry, perhaps fending off its own mother and father that day on the ship.
“It is likely to attack you, Henry. You should have allowed it to expire. You’ve significantly increased the chances of injury to your person.”
“It’s just scared and hungry,” he replied, taking a fish out from his sealskin sack. “Have this sea-fodder, little ‘un.” He tossed the fish across the floor toward it. The scent of the fish reached the snow leopard and it changed its posture slightly. Although still in an attack position, it used its paw to bring the fish closer. Not taking its eyes from Henry, it sniffed at the offering where it had shredded the carpet, but kept its eyes fixed upon Henry.
Henry took a step back to demonstrate he was no threat. The creature regarded him still, then flashed its eyes at the fish. It licked its lips. Henry moved back further still, until he reached the wall of the cabin and slunk down so he was in a sitting position. If the snow leopard wanted to, it could’ve leaped onto Henry and he wouldn’t have been able to shift out of the way quick enough. The creature clearly knew this and tilted its head, trying to work out why Henry would be so stupid. But it seemed the smell of the fish was intoxicating to the starving animal, and it drew back under the safety of the writing desk, using its paw to bring its intended meal with it, and there it ate the fish, biting its head off first, still watching Henry the whole time.
Henry felt happy for the first time in an age. He had done something good and he had provided food for a creature that would have died without his help. A creature most others would have killed out of fear, hunger, or sport. Henry had made a choice of his own. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he felt good about it. The fact the creature ate his gift was all the trophy that Henry needed. He wondered what Mother and Father would have thought. Meat is meat.
“Hey, Hep. What did you call the beast? When you first saw it?”
The robot raised its faceplate skyward, then answered.
“Panthera uncia. It is the science name of this creature.”
“Panthera,” Henry repeated.
Every day, Henry brought the creature food. He never let it out of the cabin and the creature never tried to leave. A few times, when he’d gotten too close, the creature mewled at him, or lashed out with a paw, although Henry felt the swipe was more of a warning than anything intended to draw his blood.
Henry ascertained that Hepburn was uneasy the whole time, often reciting the sum of drugs and ointments it had used on the snow leopard, stating they were best saved for Henry’s own need. Henry ignored it, proud of his own compassion.
Eventually, the creature came to realize Henry was never going to harm it. He had, after all, brought it in from the cold and spoiled it with offerings that would have been otherwise harder to come by. The creature regarded Henry as a kind of slave. Someone beneath it; loyal and stupid. At the same time, it began to become fond of its slave. It missed the companionship and warmth of its parents. Using their body heat to stay warm in a huddle. Nestled in a pile against the elements. One evening it decided the slave could keep it warm and it crept over to Henry one night as he slept and moved into position next to him.
Henry woke briefly, then tried to go back to sleep, smiling. It was the first triumph he’d had in a long time.
Yet he knew Hepburn was still concerned that the creature might attack him in his sleep should it become hungry, or simply forget where it was and why. Henry was aware that Hepburn kept a very close watch and had even changed the times he went into rest mode. He liked that the robot did that, even it if was out of some duty, he couldn’t fully understand and not out of the kind of bond of love that Henry and his family had.
He went back to sleep happier than he’d been in a long while.
Some days later, Henry allowed the creature to join him outside as he trained. He was fearful that the snow leopard might run off, but it never did. Sometimes it watched him, but other times it hung around the containers, biting the heads of the many doll carcasses scattered in the snow.
Then, after watching Henry run laps of the ship from the sloping deck, it began to run alongside him, keeping a good pace with him and aiding its own recovery. The two became friends then. Real companions, and somehow, still to Hepburn’s concern, inseparable.
Training got more difficult. Hepburn introduced new exercises and routines, ever increasing the distances and repetitions, but reducing the rests between each part of the program. Then it used the vessel and the terrain itself for Henry to jump upon, climb and scale. In a short space of time, Henry was climbing the sides of the vessel and leaping from containers. To make it more difficult, Hepburn started to project assailants around the vessel, which would fire upon Henry with unknown weapons. Still Henry had not been trained to fight, but he was ever quicker on his heels to avoid the various enemies targeting him. Henry began to enjoy his training and thrive u
nder the supervision of Hepburn. Slowly, every target that had been set for him, he exceeded. Every time, or speed he had set, then reached, he improved upon and every weight he lifted became easier as he trained.
In the evenings, Hepburn would project training modules onto the wall of the captain’s office, so Henry could understand the best ways to move toward opponents without being detected and how to use the terrain to his advantage. Then Henry advanced onto modules of human anatomy, so he could understand more about the human body and its weaknesses.
He continually asked Hepburn to start the fighting modules, but Hepburn refused, focusing purely on Henry’s superior fitness, strength and agility. Father had never been as strong. Father had never been as fast. Henry was stronger and his body broadened as he progressed with his training.
Henry had taken to showering most days, using the cubicle and shower head in his cabin, rigged up to a plastic water tank he’d been able to heat with solar cells. Hepburn had showed him some new practical skills also which would be invaluable should he ever start a homestead of his own one day. A warm shower was, so far, his defining moment.
When the coldest nights came, Henry read the few books he had and the snow leopard listened, as did Hepburn. Henry’s reading had improved and even the way he spoke was more in line with the sentences of the books. Without him realizing, he spoke words he had never known before and put them in an order he would not have used in his past life. Sometimes he had questions for Hepburn about the meaning of the words and although Hepburn was a font of all knowledge, the android didn’t know what a 1958 Red Plymouth Fury was.
Twenty
Lessons in Absolute Violence
When Henry took the car that he had named Fury for a drive one afternoon, the snow leopard leaped into the seat beside him and went along for the ride, unfazed by the radical speeds they were driving at.
Ever Winter Page 18