DogForge (15 page)

Denali listened and tried to absorb it all. She felt small, insignificant, but mostly confused. It was so much to take in.

“Below you is a planet, it’s where you came from. It’s called Forge and you’ll never see it again.” He let the words hang. “But remember it well, you are the elite, or you will be, for none are tougher than those born on Forge.”

He hopped down with a clunk and left the room.

Denali laid her head down and closed her eyes.

The day passed in silence. The next was just as quiet. Slowly the dogs regained strength.

Rumors bred from boredom spread across the room. They were weak to fight, so instead they sparred with words. One pack chided the other. Tempers flared and were extinguished by the soreness in each of them.

Except Denali. She laid on the same warm bed and was sore through to her soul. The conversations passed her by, and she heard runt more than once but had no muscle to speak. All she wanted was sleep. And that was all she did.

“Eat,” Mjol said softly in her ear.

She woke and opened her eyes to a bowl of something. She sniffed and turned her head away.

“Eat,” Mjol said louder. “You need it.”

“Leave me alone,” she mumbled and hid her nose between her paw and the prosthetic.

Mjol grinned and showed his gray metal teeth. “If you don’t eat, you’ll die.”

Denali tried to roll over but it hurt too much. “Then I will.”

Mjol growled, nudged the bowl, and hobbled back across the room to his pad.

Denali saw the pain he was in and felt ashamed of herself. He’d gone in front of everyone to help her. Already the room had bonded into a new pack, and she was still the runt. But yet he still helped her.

She leaned her head out and ate.

Illiam came in once a day with a another dog named Ruben. The two went through the room and checked on all of the dogs. They said nothing but poked and prodded with probes and scanners. 

Ruben scanned Denali. He scrunched his face and scanned her again. “Illiam,” he called.

Illiam came and scanned her twice. His eyebrows wrinkled in thought. “You’re not from here,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Denali didn’t know what to say.

“You’re genetically different,” Ruben said. “Your parents, where’d they come from?”

Denali stuttered. “I-I d-d-d-don’t know.”

Illiam glared at her with his hard metal eyes. He looked to Ruben. “Flavian genetics, imagine that, eh?” Then they left.

Two more days passed. The others walked about, bored and restless. Challenges shot across the room and the pack fractured. The old loyalties on the ground came back and soon Samson was in control of one group while a notch-eared dog named Labra was in charge of the other.

The two clashed with open mouths and snapping teeth. It wasn’t a fight meant to kill, or even hurt, just something to establish rank. It started when Labra urinated on Samson’s sleeping pad. Samson responded in kind and the two met in the middle.

They had already forgotten about the metal teeth. What would have been an almost playful spar turned into a deadly fight. The clash was over in almost a second. Samson dropped low and snapped in on Labra’s throat. Blood dropped quickly and alarms sounded. Samson scurried away with his tail low.

Denali stared at Labra and watched him squirm on the floor. Blood streamed from his throat and bubbles gurgled from his mouth.

Illiam burst through the door with Ruben close behind. A second later something new followed in, something huge. A bear, brown and ruddy, with a half assembled plate of black armor. He hunched near the door and his lips quaked with anger. He turned his head from side to side and growled a low rumble like a falling tree.

Ruben wore a white sleeve on his arm that was laced with tools. He raced to Labra. The sleeve folded out and acted like a hand that the dog didn’t have. Tools darted in and out of the wound and stitched it closed. He dragged Labra to his sleeping pad and left the room.

Denali couldn’t take her eyes off the bear. They were a thing of legend to her, a thing told to pups at night, not something that was real. The claws were what caught her eyes. They were massive things, of the same alloy that the dog’s teeth were made of. All she wanted was to get away from it. The bear exuded violence and anger.

“Who did it!” Illiam growled. “Who did this?”

Accusations flew across the room and Illiam set himself on Samson.

“You’re mine! Mine!” he snarled and stared up at Samson. Illiam looked almost comical beneath Samson.

Samson lowered his head, turned to the side and dropped down onto the ground. He submitted and was still.

“Smart,” Illiam growled back and turned. “Anyone else?”

Sever stood and raised his head. “What about the bear?”

Illiam turned his head slightly and cocked a lip. “Char, step outside.”

“Yes, sir,” Char the bear rumbled and stepped out.

“You want another to fight with you?” Illiam asked.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” Sever snarled, and charged.

Illiam tucked down low and when Sever came close, he darted to the side impossibly fast. He dug his claws into the floor and screeched to a halt before darting in and slamming Sever onto his side.

Sever yelped and flailed about. Illiam was locked tight, his jaws clamped onto the soft fur. The two screeched and thrashed across the room. Finally they came to rest almost on Denali’s sleeping pad.

She could barely move away. She opened her mouth in surprise and awe. The speed and tenacity that Illiam moved with stunned her. Sever lost consciousness and slumped to the floor.

As quickly as it started, it was done. Illiam released sever. Then he stood and licked him on the face.

Sever stirred and raised his head before plopping it onto the floor. He coughed and his body shook.

Illiam leaned close. “Next time stay low, never expose your neck. They’ll show ya in training.”

Then he left without saying another word.

Laughter erupted and Sever slunk across the room back to his sleeping pad.

Denali could hardly believe what she saw. The fight replayed in her mind and she totally forgot about the bear. If Illiam, a smaller, older dog, could beat someone like Sever
without even trying...
She couldn’t wait to get into her suit of armor.

She pictured herself tall, strong, knocking down her enemies and showing them who was in control. The pack mentality flowed through her and she was in control, she was the one who stood above the rest. She protected her pack.

Foolish,
a voice echoed in her head.

Denali froze and felt a chill. She looked around slowly and saw everyone else still chattering about the fight. Only Sever and Labra were quiet, even Samson was getting into it. The voice, though, she knew she heard it.

A waste, such a gift, and all you see is yourself.

“Who are you?” Denali asked.

A dog named Carro looked at her and cocked his head. “You talkin’ to me? Eh? Me?”

Denali shook her head and laid her chin onto her paws. The metal limb, was that it?

No.

“Who are you?
Where
are you?” Denali pleaded.

Carro looked at her again and squinted his eyes tight.

She looked away quickly.

I’m a foot she says. A foot! I watched stars burn. I saw planets blast under neutron pulses. I stood when all others failed. And she thinks I’m a foot.

“I’m sorry,” Denali said.

Apology accepted.

Denali squirmed and shifted her position.

“Who are you?” Denali mumbled into her paws.

There was a pause and Denali could almost hear a sigh.

Cicero.

The canister. The
broken
canister. Somehow what was in that canister was now in her.

Denali blinked and closed her eyes and remembered the dead men and the mechanical body that was Cicero.

Don’t. Not there, not again. Don’t recall that memory, I lived through it once.

She felt his anguish, his emotions, they flowed into her skull and the sadness sat on her like a lead weight.

Think of something else.

The suit. She pictured herself in it and felt better. Again she saw herself striking down those who had wronged her.

You get power, and all you see is vengeance? Think beyond that.

“They—”

They are not you.

Denali closed her eyes and thought instead of her family. A family she would never see again. She saw Grat and his huge frame pouncing around with pups. Barley hovered nearby, always afraid that Grat would step on one. She smiled to herself.

I must sleep now, but you are on the right path.

And then it was gone. The voice in her skull cleared away like smoke above the trees. Just bits of something tickled her, like a memory lost. She shook her head and wondered, just for a second, if it was all just her imagination. But she knew it wasn’t. It was real. The memory of the anguish felt like it was her loss. “Sleep well,” she whispered.

“You be a weird one,” Carro muttered and rolled over onto his back.

Three days later, Illiam strutted in, his armor polished and clean. He stared out with a stern face and stomped down the hall.

The room came to life and all of the dogs stood and stared through the open door.

A stream of dogs, all unarmored with the same implants as they had, trotted past. An armored dog passed by and then another group of those from Forge. A bear lumbered, then more dogs, hundreds and hundreds marched past.

Illiam hopped up on top of the same metal crate he always did. “Caesar is here!” His chest puffed in and out, his eyes glowed with excitement. “Follow me out. One after the next and no one say a damn thing.”

He hopped down from the crate and stood in front of the door. He was rigid, wound tight, excited. His stub of a tail quivered slightly. The other dogs fell in line behind him and looked between themselves nervously. Denali was at the very back, still stiff but healed up better than before.

Finally the line of dogs outside stopped and Illiam marched out. The dogs followed in a haphazard fashion.

Denali smelled dogs, thousands of them, more dogs than she knew could live in one place. She smelled the bear smell. She smelled machine smells. And then she was out in the hallway and she couldn’t help but stare in awe.

It was a circular cylinder, miles wide, and tens of miles long. Above her the track continued and the trail of dogs streamed out and all exited through a gaping door. The entire place had the feel of a cathedral, dark and old.

“Hurry up!” Ruben barked behind her.

Denali caught up to Mjol and kept pace with the rest of the dogs. She looked into open doors as they went past and saw more of the conscripted dogs waiting. They all looked eager and scared.

Great windows opened up to the space outside. Frost encrusted the edges and gave a hazy look to the planet Forge below.

Denali stumbled.

There, in the distance, was a great green and blue orb. Mountains and oceans were braced by great sandy deserts and thin blue lines of rivers. Beyond it was darkness, the pinpricks of stars, and a shattered moon.

She felt so very, very small. Forge they called it, but to her it was home.

Denali stared at the lush greenness that was her home. Was. No longer. And never to return. Grat, Barley, and the pups. All a memory now.

Then the ship came into view. She recognized it instantly, it was identical to where they brought the salvage. What they thought was a starport was a starship. It was lofty, graceful and huge. Beyond huge, with lights and turrets and great pillars topped with crystalline orbs. At the very center the spires rose with lights blinking at the top.

Ruben had told them what to expect, but seeing it made her legs quake.

Caesar
.

Anger boiled up from Cicero and flowed into Denali. “Quiet!” she grumbled.

The conscripts all merged through a single exit and then into a cavernous transport. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, tail to nose. Gone were the viewports, all they could see were walls of steel.

The floor quaked as if confused to what was up and down, and then it settled.

It smells like dog. Ugh.

Denali ignored Cicero and looked around. She saw Mjol, Sever, and of course Samson.

Samson stood a shoulder above most of the other dogs. He turned as if sensing Denali’s gaze and glared at her.

Denali snapped her eyes back to the front and waited.

The passage was short. Alarms blared like old fog horns and the armored escorts turned. Voices barked out across the huge freighter. Illiam howled out and called his group to him.

“We’re going to be one of the first out. Go out, straight out, and follow the lights. Green lights. You know green? Like leaves?” He looked at the group to make sure they nodded. “After that, you’ll be under the command of our lovely trainers,” he said and his words dripped with sarcasm. “Respect them, but most of all, listen. They’ll teach you what you need to survive.”

The doors parted and shafts of blue light shot through. There was a great gust of wind and a wall of smells burst into the freighter. Lines blinked on the floors and the dogs surged out.

Denali danced through the escaping crowds and kept her eyes on the green line.
Follow the green!
A dog fell before her and she leaped over his body then darted under the stomach of a bear.

“Move! Move!” a voice bellowed huge and loud. “Move, you worthless puppies! Green, to me!”

Denali lost sight of the line and panicked. She turned and saw Samson and followed until the green came back into sight.

The space around her opened. Line after line spread out like spokes on a wheel. At the end of each line was a cluster of dogs in dull gray armor. Waiting.

“Move!” the voice blared again. “Sweet milk of man, I’ve never seen a slower, dumber, more useless, crosseyed, bald nosed, blank eared, tailless, nutless, witless group of recruits.”

Denali stopped with all of the other dogs in her group. She stared up at the dogs in gray armor.

The facemasks were closed and they all had a forest green stripe across their chests. On the strip was icons, golden diamonds, silver emblems, circles, and squares. The dog in the center stood out from the rest. His armor was polished like a moonless night.