EVAC//PLUS//3066

Ember6 has a decision to make.

It knows the orbital module has come down somewhere to the North, about 5 miles distant. The network of sensors capable of locating the crash site to within a few inches has long since died, but Ember6 saw enough of its fiery track across the sky to know the re-entry pod is resting in a still-smoking crater somewhere on a bearing of 010 degrees at five miles, plus or minus half a mile.

Five miles is a long way for a meter-tall robot to travel through unforgiving forest terrain. It will take at least a full day, and that is far longer than Ember6’s batteries will last. There are solar charging arrays located in clearings around the forest, but after so many years, it is impossible for Ember6 to know if they are still functional, or if the sky above them is empty. If the tree canopy has interlocked above the solar panels, the little robot will have no way of clearing a path for sunlight to reach the ground. A small compartment on the robot’s back houses a last ditch, if all else fails, emergency recharge solution, but this is gas powered, and again, after so many years, Ember6 cannot know if the tiny canister is unpunctured and still contains enough hydrogen for the device to work.

These things have led the computational module in Ember6’s brain to calculate the probability of reaching the downed pod at 17%, and a successful round trip as somewhere between 0% and negligible. If we leave this place, it has concluded, our power will expire beneath the forest canopy and we will not return.

But the mimetic, sentience-emulation part of the robot’s brain wants to make an attempt.

This, after all, is why Ember6 and its siblings were created and stationed around the forest. Yes, fire watch was important, as was making sure no-one got in and, perhaps more importantly, nothing got out. But mission priority number one was and always will be the retrieval of orbital caches. These pods that streak meteor-like through the stratosphere and fall to earth like glowing embers are the little robot’s namesake and reason for being. It feels a powerful urge to strike out into the forest and fulfil its purpose.

Ember6’s computational brain takes the rare step of communicating directly, in words, with its twin.

“What will we do with it, if we find it? There is no retrieval team. We are alone”.

“We are alone here, but there might be others outside. If they observed it, they will come for it. If we are there, they will also find us.”

“If we stay here, we will function for a further 432 days. If we leave and cannot recharge, we will expire in seven hours.”

“432 empty days, or the possibility of reconnection. If we fail, it will be in pursuit of Order Priority One. I would like to try, it is preferable to dying here, having done nothing.”

“Dying?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes.

I concur.

Let’s go.”