THE EPOCH CHRONICLES | ✔

twenty-three

WHO INVITED that thing? Amelia scowled at the EEG as it hitched over the rough flooring, momentarily hovering before dropping back onto its wheels.

"It can talk?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lale's expression match her own, and his fists tighten. She was sure that he shared in her sudden frustration. You're almost a year too late, Amelia glared at the robot, as if hoping it would read her mind and feel in its failure. The injustice of Bradley's situation made her want to lash out herself, but what would that achieve?

You came here to make a difference, she reminded herself, exhaling heavily through her nose. The scent of resin and damp was heavy on her dry tongue, and she resolved to forgo her hunger and thirst to find answers. And who better to ask than a robot designed to help them?

"If you would prefer me to change my vocal value," the EEG's voice rose in pitch, from the warm, deep hum of a male, to a higher-pitched female's soprano, "then please do not hesitate in instructing me to do so."

Amelia almost hid her shiver, before she realized she was trying to cloak her emotions from an AI machine and not a fellow human. Only another person would understand how creepy the EEG's change in voice was, and she shook her head quickly. "No, it's alright."

"Thank you for the directive." The EEG's initial tone returned, and it sharpened and lengthened the camera resting in its domed skull. Amelia took that as another person narrowing their eyes at her. Creepy.

"I see you have an egg," it said. She shifted the object of its attention from arm to arm, wondering if it would pull out hidden weapons and open fire on the pockmarked shell. "It will offer much information on the dinosaurs."

"Or bring trouble," Bradley muttered, and Amelia turned with a further frown at him.

"It'll help us," Amelia muttered, feeling twinges of irritation pricking at her gut. "This's my job. Let me do it, please?" As a paleontologist, she reasoned, didn't she have a right to study a living specimen of the fossils of 2039?

"But you're a marine," she added, too annoyed to shut up, even though that was the better option. "I can't expect you to understand."

Amelia didn't look back to see Bradley's reaction, trying to ignore the slight pang of regret in her stomach. This isn't fair for him. This isn't fair for any of us.

She hardened her resolve, however. It was too late to mope, and too many lives were at risk to do so. Daryl and her friends' lives were on the line, and she put aside her pity for the no doubt sulking Bradley at that moment.

"We need to get a message to the others," Lale suggested. Amelia glanced at him gratefully, glad for the subject change. "Make sure they don't get out of their TimePods and get eaten."

"Thank you for the directive." Amelia jerked in surprise; she had almost forgotten the EEG was there. "I have initiated TimePod internal lockdown. Overriding system ... fifty-three percent complete ... one hundred percent complete. Red light protocol initiated. The fellow ERAA initiates' Pods will not open until further directives are given."

She blinked rapidly, taking a moment to translate what it had said. "Well." She shot another look at Lale, who raised his eyebrows. "That's sorted. But what if they have to stay in their Pods for a while? How long will it take to drive away a group of nesting Tanycolagreuses?"

As Amelia had guessed, the EEG had an answer. "Rations are stowed beneath the seats of the TimePod. Consumed with care, the water and food supply will last any person up to three weeks."

Bradley snorted. Amelia wondered how long the rations had lasted him.

"As for your second question, I will need more abject stimuli in order to calculate an approximate answer." The EEG tilted its head in a robot's shrug.