Tinman, Chapter 7 Dusky shadows crept along the river's edge as the sun's last embers winked out behind the dense canopy of trees. Sam guided the boat with a steady hand, its floodlights cutting swathes through the encroaching gloom. The catamaran, like a cautious beast, inched up the serpentine river into the heart of the wilderness. Draco, ever vigilant, knelt at the bow outside. His gaze darted from left to right, scrutinizing the ebony waters for hidden dangers lurking beneath their murky surface. The forest seemed alive, a breathing entity, its whispers carried on the wind and lost amongst the rustling leaves. At the stern, Cass pressed her face against the cool glass, peering into the darkness. A chill traced down her spine as she discerned the faint glow of eyes— pairs of them—that glittered with feral interest from the banks. They paced the catamaran, silent phantoms amongst the trees. She swallowed the lump of unease that formed in her throat. "Everything alright, Cass?" Sam's voice, tinged with concern, reached her over the hum of the engine. "Fine," she assured him, though her voice wavered. "Just... wildlife." Sam nodded, his eyes not leaving the water ahead. He shared her tension but masked it well. The lake was their sanctuary—a place where they could drop anchor amidst the stillness and gain reprieve from the shore-bound predators. It promised a ring of safety, an aquatic moat to hold the night at bay. "Once we reach the center," he said, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken promises, "we'll be secure, Cass. We'll learn what's out there, understand this place." Cass nodded, taking solace in his resolve. The thought of anchoring in the void of the lake, distant from the clawing reach of the woods, eased her racing heart. For now, they were spectators to the nocturnal ballet of predator and prey, but soon they would be participants in this new world's dance. Cass clutched the railing, her knuckles white against the metal. The boat's floodlights pierced the darkness, casting long shadows that danced with the sway of the water. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, grateful for the sturdy vessel beneath her feet. Her mind wandered to those who had braved this path before them, on foot, through the dense and treacherous forest. "Can you imagine it, Sam?" Cass murmured, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of water against the hull. "Imagine what?" Sam replied, his eyes not straying from the expanse of water illuminated by their vessel's lights. "Those pioneers," she said, her gaze fixed on the encroaching darkness. "Walking this route, surrounded by all...this." She gestured vaguely towards the thickening woods. A shudder ran through her at the thought, a dance of chills over her skin. The pioneers had been brave or foolish—or perhaps a bit of both—to face such dangers without the sanctuary of a sturdy boat. Visions of tooth and claw, of silent footfalls behind them, filled her imagination. It was no wonder so many had turned tail, fleeing back to the familiar embrace of city life. "Sam, remember when you wanted to get that hover sled?" Cass continued, a note of incredulity coloring her tone as she turned to look at him. "Indeed, I do," Sam answered with a half-smile. "Seems a lifetime ago now." "Out here, in the dark... we'd be vulnerable—just canvas between us and..." Her voice trailed off, leaving the unsaid horrors to linger in the air between them. "Vulnerable, yes," he agreed, nodding solemnly. "But we have the catamaran now. She'll keep us safe." The hours unfolded like a somber melody, each minute stretching longer than the last until the lake finally opened before them—a vast expanse of stillness cradled by the land. With practiced ease, Sam steered the catamaran to the heart of the lake, far from the whispering threats of the shore. "Here?" Cass asked, peering into the obsidian mirror of the water. "Here," Sam confirmed, cutting the engines. He moved with a geologist's precision, dropping the anchor into the depths below. A soft thud signaled their tether to safety, their small island of light amidst an ocean of night. Cass retreated inside the cabin, dragging blankets from bunks and storage alike. She moved mechanically, draping them over each window until the outside world was nothing but a memory. The armored glass and robust hull were fortifications against the unknown, yet it was the inability to see what lurked beyond that brought her some solace. "Feels like a fortress now," she commented, tucking the last blanket's edge under a metal frame. "An impregnable one," Sam added, watching her work. His eyes held a glint of pride for her resourcefulness. A sudden thump against the hull snatched away the facade of tranquility. Cass' heart hammered, eyes wide in the dimness. Another bump, closer, more insistent, and this time, her courage shattered like glass upon stone. Tears welled, carving silent paths down her cheeks, the drops warm in the coolness of the cabin. "Sam?" Her voice was a mere whisper, a plea lost amidst the creaks and groans of the vessel. Footsteps, soft but sure, approached. Sam appeared beside her, his presence a balm to her fraying senses. He sat on the edge of her bunk, his hand finding hers in the darkness—a connection forged in a thousand shared moments of comfort and solace. "Daddy," the word escaped before she could reel it back, a reflex of the child who once knew no fear as long as he was near. "It's okay, I'm here." His voice, ever calm, wrapped around her like the blankets that shielded them from the night. Morning broke with a timid light that coaxed hues of amber through the fabric that cloaked the windows. Cass stirred, her sleep fitful and haunted by dreams of shadowy figures roaming the riverbank. Through slits in the makeshift curtains, the sun offered a promise of warmth, a stark contrast to the chill that lingered in her bones. Sam was a silhouette against the soft glow, moving with purpose in the small kitchenette. The clink of utensils and the aroma of rehydrated food filled the space, a domestic scene juxtaposed against the wildness that encased them. Cass pressed her eyelids shut, inhaling deeply, and conjuring images of their dusty apartment back on Mars. The hum of life support systems, the distant echo of miners returning from a shift—comforting sounds of a world she understood. Yet here, on Ares, every rustle and splash was a mystery, a potential threat lurking just beyond the veil of their sanctuary. Why had she let him drag her to this alien place? Their journey thus far had been an adventure seen through the lens of safety, the coast a scenic backdrop devoid of true peril. But last night, the wilderness had revealed itself in all its unforgiving vastness, and Cass had tasted real fear for the first time. She opened her eyes once more, letting reality seep back in, the scent of synthetic eggs coaxing her fully awake. Today, they would continue—because retreat was not in their nature, and because her step-father, her Sam, the only father she’d ever known, believed in the value of the unknown that lay ahead. With a quiet resolve bolstering her spirit, she resolved to face the day, to embrace the uncertainty with the same determination that had propelled them across the stars. The first streaks of dawn had barely brushed the horizon when Sam's voice, steady and calm, permeated the cabin. "Breakfast is ready," he announced, his words slicing through the silence that had settled over the boat. Cass stirred, her senses emerging from the cocoon of sleep. The bunk's embrace relinquished its hold as she swung her legs over the side, her feet finding the cool metal floor. She paused, the remnants of night's fears still clinging to her thoughts like cobwebs. Groggy and disoriented, she ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as they snagged on knots. Her sandy ponytail, once neatly tied, now resembled a bird's nest after a storm. Her scalp protested with each tug, eliciting a frown that furrowed her brow. "Let me help with that," Sam offered, his hands already reaching for a brush. "No, it's fine." Cass's voice was more terse than intended, but the intimacy of the gesture unnerved her—a reminder of how much they relied on each other in this strange world. "Really, I don't mind," Sam persisted gently, knowing her stubbornness all too well. "Okay, but then you're braiding it," Cass capitulated, half-smiling despite herself. It was easier to let him fuss over her than to admit how much she needed his presence—how his steadfastness anchored her in this uncharted wilderness. As Sam worked the brush through her hair, the rhythmic strokes soothed her frayed nerves, and the tension that had wound itself tightly during the night began to unravel. Each pass untangled not only the mess of her locks but also the knotted thoughts in her mind. "Better?" he asked, tying off the braid with practiced ease. "Much," she admitted, casting a fleeting glance at her reflection in the window. The armored glass, which had been their shield against the dark, now revealed the pale light of morning washing over them, bestowing a sense of renewal. "Thanks, Sam," she said, turning to face him, her eyes reflecting gratitude mingled with a newfound resolve. They were here, together, facing the unknown—and somehow, that made all the difference. Cass settled at the small table, the metallic scent of freeze-dried rations mingling with the earthy aroma of the lake outside. The crinkle of packaging became a familiar overture to their meal times as she tore open the pouch labeled 'Eggs & Sausage Blend'. Beneath the hiss of rehydrating food, an undercurrent of silence tugged at her awareness. "Where's Draco?" Cass asked, her spoon poised above the steaming mixture, which bore only a passing resemblance to eggs and an even fainter nod to sausage. Sam glanced up from his own packet, his expression serene in the face of her query. "He's on shore checking things out," he replied nonchalantly, his voice carrying the same even pitch it did when discussing rock samples or weather patterns. Cass set down her spoon, the half-eaten concoction of breakfast rations forgotten. Her mind churned with confusion. "What? My game console doesn’t have that kind of range, and he can’t carry it with him. What are you talking about?” she pressed, green eyes narrowing in suspicion. Sam leaned back against the metal bulkhead, his lips curving into a knowing smile that crinkled the corners of his hazel eyes. Arms folded across his chest, he watched her, the subtle sparks of mirth flickering in his gaze. “Just go ahead and call me a genius now and get it over with,” he said, his grin widening into a triumphant beam that seemed to light up the dim confines of the catamaran's cabin. Cass shook her head, her sandy ponytail swishing as a reluctant smile tugged at her lips; despite herself, curiosity piqued. Sam's inventive streak, it appeared, had surfaced once more. She squinted, her focus sharpening on Sam's self-assured posture. "What did you do?" Her voice carried a mix of skepticism and awe, for she knew well that when Sam wore that look, it meant he had cooked up something clever. "Ah," Sam began, unfolding his arms to gesture toward an unseen marvel just beyond the cabin's walls. "Mr. Steward knows I’m a geologist, so he gave us a geological survey drone." He paused, giving Cass a moment to follow his train of thought. As if conjuring images from thin air, Sam continued, "I found it last night when I was poking around. It has a camera, speakers, microphone, transmitter," he ticked off the features on his fingers, each digit representing another piece of technological wizardry. "Also, a laser range finder, radar, sonar, x-ray…" He trailed off, clearly relishing the buildup, before delivering the final flourish, "and a holo-emitter to display maps." He beamed, as though presenting a treasure unearthed from the depths of Martian soil. Cass processed this, her mind racing with the possibilities such a device entailed. The drone was more than a tool; it was a lifeline in the untamed wilderness that engulfed them. She leaned in closer, her eyes reflecting the morning light. The revelation that such a compact device could house such potential was nearly overwhelming. "Oh my gosh, and the memory is big enough for Draco!" Sam nodded, his usual reserve giving way to a hint of pride. "That's right, and an infinite power source. He's independently mobile now." He explained. Cass imagined the digital Draco, now unshackled from the confines of stationary existence, free to roam the alien landscapes at their side. "He couldn't stay in that survey satellite in orbit, someone will spot the unauthorized use eventually. If anyone is watching us, they'll only see my geological survey drone flitting about." His voice carried an edge of caution, a reminder that their journey on Ares wasn't without its risks and prying eyes. The revelation hung between them, a testament to Sam's foresight and Cass's innate ability to grasp the nuances of their plight. In this world of unknowns, the drone represented more than just technological advancement—it symbolized hope for Draco, and safety for them. It was a beacon that would guide them through the darkness, both literal and metaphorical, as they navigated the wild frontiers of Ares. Cass let out a breath, the awe in her voice barely containing the whirlwind of emotions stirring within her. "Sam, you are a genius," she said, the words like a lifeline tethering them to the ingenuity that kept them one step ahead. The cabin's silence was shattered by a sudden thump from above, pulling Cass's attention upward. A seam in the ceiling parted, and with a hiss of released pressure, a hatch yawned open. A shadow descended; round, sleek, and purposeful, the geological survey drone entered their sanctuary. It hovered like a curious bird, its underbelly casting a soft glow over the room. "Hey, Cass, look, I have a real body now." The voice was unmistakable—Draco's digital cadence filled the space, tinged with something akin to excitement. Beside the drone, particles of light coalesced, shimmering into solidity until the familiar form of their digital companion stood before them. Draco's holographic frame flickered with life, an echo of human motion crafted from photons and code. He had changed his t-shirt again, and this time it said, “Draco the Explorer.” Sam, his face illuminated by the soft blue light of the drone, turned to Draco with a mix of wariness and expectation. "What did you find out there?" he asked, his voice steady but betraying a hint of the concern that had tightened his features since they left the safety of the open sea. Draco's holographic form flickered slightly, his avatar's gestures eerily mirroring human thought. "It was wolves following us last night, Dr. Ryan," Draco reported, his tone matter-of-fact despite the gravity of his findings. "They have a cave on the north side of the lake." Cass felt a chill skitter across her skin, a primal reaction to the word 'wolves.' Images of sleek predators, eyes glinting with cunning intelligence, prowled through her thoughts. The knowledge that these creatures had been mere shadows on the periphery of their light, silent observers of their journey, added weight to the dangers beyond the catamaran's walls. "Thank you, Draco," Sam said, nodding his acknowledgment. His hazel eyes met Cass's green ones for a fleeting moment, sharing an unspoken understanding. They were intruders here, strangers in a land governed by tooth and claw. But together, with their wits and technological edge, they would navigate the perils of this brave new world. Cass's heart beat with a mix of fear and excitement. This was no game at the Ceres Gaming Dome, no virtual challenge to be conquered with a joystick and tactical thinking. This was survival, raw and real. And yet, as she looked at Sam and then to Draco's flickering form, she knew they weren't alone in this. They were a team, each member vital, each skill essential. Sam's gaze lingered on the drone hovering in the still air of the cabin, its mechanical hum a soft counterpoint to the lapping of water against the hull. "Excellent work, Draco," he said, his voice steady and calm as if discussing findings in a controlled laboratory environment rather than the untamed wilderness of Ares. “You can dock the drone while you’re on the boat and use your holographic projection, but when you’re outside, stay inside the drone.” The drone, an orb of sleek metal and blinking lights, rotated slightly, and rose up into the ceiling until it was needed for another trip outside. "Of course, Dr. Ryan," replied Draco, settling onto a bench at the table as if he were any normal boy. "What's for breakfast? I'm famished." The words seemed almost comical coming from a holographic AI. She watched him mimic human behavior, an AI programmed to interact seamlessly with its human companions. Yet, even as he sat at the table, Cass knew it was just an illusion–with the survey drone to allow him to move around independently, this was as close to human as he could get. Cass giggled as she heaped a spoonful of the pale, rehydrated eggs onto her fork and held it out for Draco. Draco's holographic form leaned forward, mimicking a human's eager bite, though no actual consumption occurred. "Umm…what do they taste like?" Draco inquired, his voice a blend of humor and true curiosity. "Recycled rubber," Cass said flatly, her eyes narrowing in mock disapproval at the breakfast's lackluster flavor. She plopped the eggs back onto her plate with a small splat, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards despite her attempt to stay serious.