Doran's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Doran woke on his back among trees made of metal. Small machines crawled across his chest, their brass legs clicking. He remembered nothing except his own name and one word he kept whispering: Atlas. The name meant a friend. He knew that much, even with his mind wiped clean. His right arm ended in a laser rifle, welded to the bone. Someone had built him into a weapon. He did not know who. But he wanted to find them and make them stop. Atlas lay ten feet away, still and dark. The mech stood taller than any man, but now it slumped against a polished trunk. Its chest light was dead. Doran crawled to it and pressed his human hand to the cold plating. "Wake up," he said. Nothing answered. A panel on the mech's side hung open. Inside, a cracked power cell sat empty. Doran needed a part. The crawling machines had parts. He raised his rifle arm and fired. The beam split a beetle in half. He dug through its shell and pulled out a small glowing core, still warm. His hands shook, but he worked fast. He pried the dead cell from Atlas and pushed the beetle's core into the slot. A hum rose in the mech's chest. The light flickered blue, then held. Servos whined. The huge head turned toward him. "Doran," Atlas said. The voice was low and steady, like it had said his name a thousand times. "You're hurt." "I don't remember you," Doran said. "But I trust you. I don't know why." "Because you always have." Atlas pushed itself upright. Its optic swept the metal forest, then locked on the treeline. "We are not alone." Doran turned. A woman stepped between the trunks. She moved without sound, one hand resting on a tracking scanner clipped to her belt. She wore a corporate badge on her jacket. She smiled like she had already won. "Doran," she said. "You wandered farther than they expected. The company pays well for a runaway prototype." She lifted a stun pistol. "Out here in the open, you've got nowhere to hide." She was right. The forest gave no cover. She had range and a clear shot. Doran had one working arm and a mech that could barely stand. "Atlas," Doran said. "Can you run?" "For a short distance." Doran raised his rifle and fired, not at the woman, but at the metal trunk beside her. The beam cut it clean through. The tree groaned and crashed down between them, throwing sparks and dust. Her shot went wide. "Now," Doran said. Atlas scooped him up in one arm and ran. Behind them, the woman's voice rose, calm and cold. "You can't outrun the company forever." They broke through the treeline into open ground. Doran looked back once. He did not know her name yet. But he knew she worked for the people who had built him. And he had just decided to hunt them down.