The Iron Forest: Ancestor's Legacy

Earth engulfed Victor’s view as the pod drifted closer. The white puffs of clouds atop rows of mountains became clear and refined. A world familiar, yet it wasn’t. Cities no longer devoured the landscape that appeared purer.

“Atmospheric entry will commence in two hours, Commander,” the pod’s computer announced.

“Any sign of my ship?”

“Negative. No signals detected.”

“What about civilization?”

“I’m sorry, Commander. There appears to be no artificial communication radiating from the planet.”

Victor sighed. The last few days he spent alone in a celestial coffin will end with him being alone still on an entire planet. His clouded memory made things worse since he was a stranger to himself. He lost everything and now his life was to be reduced to an empty shell of a man on a big, boring planet.

“What’s our angle of insertion?” he asked, reviewing trajectory analysis simulations.

The computer beeped. “Our reentry path should put us in a forty-eight-degree decline at twenty-seven kilometers per second.”

“Isn’t that a little fast? And steep?” He remembered the ideal reentry speed hovered around five kilometers per second. It’s funny how I remember that, but not how I got here.

“Negative, Commander. This vessel has been designed to withstand dynamic forces at twice that amount. It is a necessary attribute needed for emergency atmospheric insertions.”

“Yes, but that was thousands of years ago.”

More beeps. “I cannot compute those parameters—”

“Forget about it.”

Victor watched Earth get closer as the curve of the sphere’s edge turned straighter. Nervousness took hold, putting beads of sweat across his brow. He tried not to think about the risks. When he did, reality kicked in that burning in a ball of fire with every atom vaporizing in a brilliant plume of plasma would be quick and painless. At least that’s what he told himself.

A slight vibration began.

Thin wisps of gas clouded the viewport. Hello atmosphere, he thought, watching the wisps turn to steam, then the streams into bright trails of flame.

“It’s getting a little hot in here.”

“We are entering the atmosphere at an accelerated rate. You might feel some discomfort until we land.”

“No shit,” he said, sweat pouring down his face.

The window glowed a yellow and orange, so bright it burned his eyes. The pod became engulfed in a cocoon of fire and plasma. It shook—hard. Victor thanked God he had no fillings in his teeth. If he did, the vibrations would have shaken them free.

“Fifteen minutes till reentry is complete,” the computer intoned.

Victor’s back ached as the dropping acceleration, coupled with fresh gravity, pressed him hard against the pod. His skin burned from unfathomable heat pouring across his body. A strange smoke, like burning plastic and rubber, filled his nostrils.

“H-H-How… m-much… l-l-l-longer?”

“Five minutes and twenty-six seconds till impact.”

Impact? I could have sworn she said landing.

Plasma roaring across the pod’s exterior subsided to black smoke. The shaking slowed to a more tolerable level, with an occasional shudder of a passing cloud. Victor’s ears still rang, but only a whisper of air passing across the pod remained.

“Deploying parachute,” the computer said.

This was it, a peaceful descent and a gentle touchdown made for the last step of this journey. He craned his neck to see the new Earth, but at the angle the pod only blue sky and puffs of clouds filled his vision.

Suddenly, horns blasted with warning indicators flashing across his holographic display monitor. “What happened? Talk to me.” He scanned the overload of information in front of his eyes.

“The parachute has failed, Commander.”

“Failed? How?”

“The material used has passed its expiration date by three-thousand, three-hundred, and ninety years.”

“Right.” He scoffed. “Do we have anything else to stop this thing?”

“I have a small amount of retro thruster fuel left and the stabilizers will help bleed of some of the acceleration.”

Nausea rushed through him as the pod spun. The world crossed the viewpoint in a dizzying flash in no apparent direction.

Land.

Sky.

Land.

Sky.

Mountains.

Land.

Sky.

Green splotches turned into trees.

Land.

Sky.

Land.

Sky…

Brown patches became grass.

Darkness.

*****

Victor blinked against the light that blinded him. He survived—somehow.

Every bone and muscle ached from the landing, but also from the first time his body felt gravity in a hundred generations. It seemed heavy and constant, pulling his blood toward his back as his lungs struggled to expand against their own weight.

The beeps and horns stopped with the holographic monitor twitching in and out.

“Computer, status report. Where are we?” he asked, but only received silence. “Computer?”

Turning his head, he saw sparks popping around him from the damaged pod. The emergency vessel served its purpose.

A rush of sorrow came over him. The nameless computer had kept him alive for millennium. She never questioned it or expected anything in return, but served her directive in a relentless pursuit longer than most civilizations existed—he never got to thank her.

It took a moment for him to lean forward on a stiff and aching back. He pulled a lever, painted in red and white stripes to disengage the locks, holding the canopy secure.

Haze burst from the pod, equalizing as the half-shell canopy cracked. Victor gasped, taking air into his lungs. Not just air, but real air. His entire life, so far, spent breathing filtered, recycled air collected and stored. His vision twinkled from the heightened oxygen level. Earth’s air tasted sweet and pure compared to the stale scent of carbon and reverse osmosis filters.

Everything appeared white from years of sleep and days of staring into the blackness of space. He blinked at the stinging in his retinas that were overloading with new information. After a few minutes, his vision cleared to see a sky full of blue. A flock of birds passed singing and chirping with wind rustling a nearby tree.

He tried to sit upright, but cables and tubes still attached him to the pod: Nutrient distribution feeds, blood oxygenators, and waste recycling tubes dug deep through his flesh. A gentle tug did nothing. He pulled hard, feeling the resistant steel probes slide out from within.

Nearby, startled birds jumped to the sky at his screams.

He fell back, breathing deeply.

Outside the pod, large rubber balloons hissed as they deflated. So that’s how I survived. The pod was covered in airbags to break the fall—clever.

Weak, getting his bearings, he glanced around the new planet Earth. Mountains topped with snow rose high above trees that seemed endless. No roads, signs, or any indication of where he was. Everything looked different, but not because of his amnesia. The overabundance of grass and trees with green leaves seemed more like a fine painting that what he felt the world should be like. He expected more browns and a gray sky filled with ash and clouds.

“Now what?” he asked out loud. “What does the only man on the planet do?”

Victor pulled himself from the pod. The slow, painful transition from sitting to standing made him grunt through gritted teeth. He wobbled on unfamiliar legs that supported no weight in a very long time. His hand parted from the pod in a final step to independence. An accomplished grin crossed his face like a baby standing for the first time…

… he hit the ground in the same way.

“Dammit! Come on Victor. It’s just standing—not a difficult thing to do.”

Another attempt and another, each time he fell hard and sudden. It took a few tries till his muscles and inner ear adjusted to gravity. First a partial step, then a shuffle. Moving became fluid—then stopping turned into a new challenge. A tree helped him with that; a hard one that didn’t budge.

Victor returned to his pod as the sun lowered closer to the horizon. Soon, night would arrive with all its unknown darkness and terrors. After some exploring, a compartment at the foot of the pod held an assortment of equipment. The pistol with two magazines of twelve rounds piqued his attention first.

“Nice. Good thinking, Victor.” He assumed he packed the weapon.

A small flashlight and a knife also would be handy to help him live through the night. He strapped them to his jumpsuit, feeling more like a castaway in one of those stories he read as a child.

“Okay. First rule of surviving in the wild; find water.” He scanned the area but found only snow blanketing the surrounding mountains. “I’m going to assume I’m in the Rockies.” He glanced at the sun. “If I travel west, I’ll reach the ocean. East will take me to endless plains, and everything else is nothing but mountains—west it is.”

He followed the sun while it crept lower below the horizon, blanketing the world in shadow and cold. His breath left in thin puffs of clouds from the strain of scaling hills that felt like mountains. The trek seemed to go on forever. He turned back at a clearing to see how small the pod became, if he could see it at such a distance.

Instead of seeing a tiny speck of a pod, he could still read the serial number on its side. “These freaking hills make a mile feel like ten.” He noticed then his parched tongue and heard his rumbling belly. The pod kept him well hydrated and full of nutrients, but the sun and long march left him dry and hungry. “I’ll have to find water tomorrow. For now, I’ll need some shelter and warmth.”

Victor realized the hard way; he had little skill as a carpenter. His knife cut branches well, but without rope and anything to lash them together, the task proved futile. Exhaustion soon took over. He moved toward a trio of trees that looked like a safe place to bed for the night.

He shivered from the cold. “Wherever I came from, surviving in the wild was not my strong suit.” He wished he’d packed something to make a fire.

The final transition from day into night brought about a quiet calm. The mountain breeze stopped rustling the trees, removing all sounds except his own. It was peaceful and serene. Until a screech echoed through the darkness. He pulled out his weapon, aiming it into the night. Another screech, then a growl. Sounds of creatures surrounded him—taunted him. He pointed his gun everywhere, expecting to meet hungry fangs from the endless shadow.

“It’s going to be a long night.”

*****

Dawn breaking over the mountains sent beams of light through the trees. Victor woke beneath a blanket of leaves and branches. His teeth chattered. His fingers felt numb and lifeless. Soreness consumed all his joints and his stomach begged for food.

“Well, still alive. That’s good, I guess.”

The whole day awaited him, giving him a better opportunity to gain some resources. Water and food became a high priority. He needed energy and needed it fast.

Green spruce and Douglass fir thickened as he marched away from the sun. Every attempt to remain quiet failed because of hidden sticks below a layer of leaves. He hoped to happen upon a woodland creature to provide him with some protein. Shrubs full of glossy red berries were in abundance, but he figured the bright color meant poison.

Water trickling ahead rebuilt Victor’s diminishing spirits. A stream flowing over smooth rocks appeared behind a grove of yellowing trees. The crystal-clear waters shimmered from columns of light through a clearing in the forest. He ran and dove to his hands and knees, scooping the water into his mouth. It tasted pure and cold.

A snap in the forest’s shadow caught his attention. He paused, waiting, listening. A sound meant he wasn’t alone. Victor rested his hand on the pistol, ready to draw. Another noise, not a branch, but a gurgle. No animal made sounds like that. It seemed artificial, mechanical.

A red, glowing orb appeared between two trees. They parted, revealing a steel terror. Black like onyx, with blades flashing in the sunlight. It thumped with robotic steps on a pair of mechanical legs.

“What in the hell?” He moaned, tugging his pistol from its holster.

The beast bolted toward him, sending dirt and leaves airborne. Victor aimed and fired, but the rounds bounced off in sparks and smoke. He rolled, avoiding a slash from the machine’s deadly blade. Victor stumbled away, dodging steel swing after steel swing. He fired his pistol a second time, but all he got was an empty click.

The machine was fast, calculating. Its blades swung in wide arcs. One slice parted a man-sized tree in half, another split the skin between his ribs, sending the useless gun flying away. He hissed in pain, but the machine showed no mercy. It repositioned and raised its blades for a final attack.

Victor backed away, frantic and scared.

A howl, like a banshee bursting from the gates of hell, came from the trees. Flying through the air, with back arched against the thrust of a spear, appeared a woman. She buried the weapon through the machine, from shoulder to ribs, sending sparks outward. A roll and a jump put her back on her feet.

Victor had never seen such ferocity and grace all at once.

She darted from side to side, avoiding blades moving in blurred arcs. A tumble and a leap sent her over the machine to retrieve her spear. Oil and sparks spit like robotic blood, causing it to stumble. The woman returned to a fighting stance to deliver a killing blow of her own. A quick thrust and slice with her spear downed the beast—twitching. She walked up to it and sent the weapon through its head.

The red light extinguished.

She stood, still focused on the machine with her spear in hand, taking deep labored breaths. Anger and determination painted her face. When he coughed, she shifted her gaze to him as she yanked the weapon from the machine’s head.

The spear was pointed at him now. He forced down a gulp, wondering if he shared the same fate as her mechanical victim.

“Qos es tu?” she growled, still pointing her spear. “Qis es tu dhídhētis kei?”

Victor replied with a blank stare.

“Cha tu tsuorum?” She appeared annoyed, stomping her feet.

“Uh, hello?” He said with a wave of his hand and a forced smile.

The woman paused, glancing around in confusion. Her voice softened a little. “Tu sne estum a yel estum tēn kei apo mar Da-Tsanume.”

Again, Victor kept his blank stare, not knowing what to say. Her language sounded alien to him. He ran through his minimal knowledge of Spanish, Italian, and French, but nothing he knew matched her words.

He stood, dumbfounded. The woman jabbed her spear in an obvious gesture to keep his distance. “Thanks for saving me. That thing would have killed me for sure.” He pointed to the machine.

She looked him over, then stormed away.

Victor watched as she walked toward the tree line. He wanted to call her and tell her to come back. She was the first real live person he met on this new planet, and as far as he knew, she saved his life. It was a shame to see her go.

Before disappearing into the forest shadow, she turned back and sighed. “Es tu quni?” She waved at him to follow.

The hike through spruce and fir felt surreal. His torn memory still denied him of his past, but there was a familiarity to the machine that attacked him. He recognized it, like recalling a dream long after awakening.

He never took his eyes off the woman as he followed her up a narrow ravine. Partly because she climbed from boulder to boulder with such fluidity that he had trouble keeping up and because of his curiosity of who she was.

“Where are we going?” he asked. He was tired and hoped she would stop to answer, but the woman continued to march, paying him no attention.

They came to a stop along a ravine tucked between a pile of massive boulders. With both hands, she scooped water into her mouth and splashed it across her face. Victor sat on a smooth granite rock, taking a moment to study his new companion. She appeared younger than his thirty-two years and a head shorter. Her buckskin tunic under a gray fur cloak looked handmade and simple, with nothing but rags covering her feet. Soil stained her body and clothes; her long brown hair in a matted jumble. She looked feral as an animal, but the way she handled herself and spoke told him otherwise.

He forced himself to shake off his curiosity, seeing it as a distraction from the threats that lurked within the trees. A new question flashed in his mind: Are there more machines and how many?

“Etum so.” She handed him a broad leaf piled high with red berries—the same ones he thought were poisonous.

Victor pushed them away, shaking his head. “No thanks. I was told that all red berries are poisonous.” He didn’t want to risk it since she may have an immunity for something that could make him sick.

“Etum so,” she insisted, eating one to show him they’re safe.

Starving, he took a bite, tasting the sweet juice. His eyes widened at the flavor. It was the first thing he ate in thousands of years, and the berry put his senses into overload.

They walked throughout the day before stopping at a small plateau on the mountain side. Daytime sun started to lower, sending chills down Victor’s back. His companion had better fortune with her wolf-fir cloak to keep warm. It almost made him envious.

After they stopped, Victor watched as she gathered branches into a pile, striking a stone against her spearhead. Sparks showered the tinder, creating smoke that burst into fire. Light flooded the campsite, warm against his face.

He laughed out loud, startling her. “I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “I was just thinking how handy all this would have been yesterday.” It made him feel foolish since he passed up the berries and slept in the cold—all because of pure ignorance.

She remained quiet for a moment before disappearing into the trees.

Evening turned to night and his companion had yet to return. It took a few attempts to keep a good burning fire, but a bit of stoking and adding the right amount of fuel kept the embers hot and glowing.

A snap came from the darkness. Victor jerked, startled at what sounded like a breaking twig or shaking bush. He reached, careful and slow, at a thick branch in one hand and his knife in the other. Not much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. If something jumped from the forest, he wanted to be prepared.

The sounds stopped, leaving a few cricket songs in the distance. He gazed through the trees, watching, waiting.

A deer thumped the ground next to Victor, with wide dead eyes and a hanging tongue. He bellowed in surprise. When his eyes adjusted from the fire to the darkness, he saw the woman standing nearby with her spear covered in blood.

Ignoring him, she went to work, using her spear and a sharpened stone to cut the flesh. It sliced in ragged tears through fir and skin.

Victor feigned a cough when she went to for its stomach, offering his knife. She nodded, checked the blade then sliced the animal, spilling its entrails across the ground.

The sound of her digging into the beast, separating muscle from bone and tending to organs, sent bile to Victor’s throat. He felt sick—.

Red half-digested berries spilled to the dirt.

The woman gave him a sliver of a smile for only a second before resuming her work. She knew what she was doing, dressing the deer like an experienced butcher. Each slice had purpose as she carved through the animal.

After a few minutes, the fire spat and hissed from venison, dripping juices on the glowing embers. The woman worked magic with her kill, turning flesh and gore into a meal.

She handed him a sliver of roast that still sizzled and steamed. He was hesitant at first but didn’t want to appear rude by not accepting her offer. With a careful touch, he held it up as a gesture of thanks and bit into the surprisingly tender meat.

She nodded, then turned away.

The meal finished; he leaned his head back onto a stone boulder while his companion sat crossed legged opposite the fire. The dancing light brought out her features and sparkling green eyes. A beautiful woman hid beneath the layer of soil that smeared across her skin.

Awkward silence, broken by an occasional pop from the fire, continued between them. Victor wanted to thank her for the dinner and for saving his life, but didn’t know how. Every attempt to communicate was halted by the sadness growing on her face. She stared in the fire, but her gaze went further beyond.

“I wish there was a way to thank you,” he murmured. “Could you just talk to me? Please?”

She still faced the fire, pain and heartbreak written across her face.

“Hello?”

She tossed a stick into the fire.

He sighed in frustration and rolled over with his back towards her.

“Sana.”

Victor turned back towards her. “I’m sorry.”

“Misai nōmṇ esti… Sana.” She pointed a finger to her chest.

“Sana.” He smiled.

She acknowledged him with a nod.

He did the same gesture with his finger and said, “Victor.”

“Veek-tor,” she repeated, squinting. “Veek-tor.”

“That’s right. Victor.”

Sana returned a smile of her own, but a sadness still remained. She shifted her seat from crossed leg to kneeling. With both hands grasped together, pressing against her chest, she bowed. “Pavar ne mrika tu, Veek-tor.”

Other than his name, he had no idea what she said, but her manner appeared dignified. His opinion of her changed from being a savage woman to a cultured individual. Plus, she was proof civilization still existed in some capacity.

“Pleased to meet you, Sana,” he said with a return bow, mimicking hers.

She rattled a barrage of words Victor found incomprehensible, but her hands translated well enough for him to understand. According to her gesticulations, they had a long walk the next day and needed to get some rest.

He watched, amused.

For the first time in a few thousand years, he was not alone.