I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 182 – PODs

- Oliver -

"What the hell is this?" Oliver exclaimed, his voice reverberating through the immense chamber. He stood rooted at the threshold, his eyes wide as they scanned the vast expanse before him.

"Relax," Martin said with a chuckle, placing a reassuring hand on Oliver's shoulder. "Everyone is surprised by the size of the installation when they come here for the first time." He gazed upward, a hint of awe in his own eyes. "Hard to believe this was constructed even before the first mech was built. Makes you think, doesn't it?"

Oliver followed Martin's gaze towards the soaring ceiling. Suspended high above were clusters of greenish lights, glowing softly like stars in an artificial night sky.

"But what are those things up there?" Oliver asked, pointing toward the ceiling of the colossal complex.

"You've never seen a POD like this before?" Tim interjected, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise.

"Uh, no," Oliver replied, trying to appear nonchalant despite the flurry of questions swirling in his mind.

"Do they maintain them differently at other bases?" Martin mused, exchanging a curious glance with Tim. "Damn, I'd love to see how they operate elsewhere."

"Propagation & Organic Development Systems—or PODs," Tim explained, nodding toward the glowing structures above. "That's where we store the products while they mature."

Oliver squinted, attempting to discern more details. The PODs resembled enormous cocoons, each emitting a soft, otherworldly green glow. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he contemplated what kind of 'products' required such an elaborate setup.

Lost in thought, Oliver hadn't noticed that Tim and Martin had moved ahead, boarding what appeared to be an autonomous shuttle parked nearby.

"Hey! You'd better get on board," Tim called out, snapping Oliver back to reality. "The next one won't come by for another ten minutes."

"The installation's too vast to navigate on foot," Tim continued as Oliver hurried over and stepped inside. "These autonomous buses run continuously throughout the facility. They stop at the engineering sector, biology labs, the docks, and storage areas."

The shuttle's interior was spacious and minimalist, illuminated by discreet strips of light that lined the ceiling and floors. Rows of comfortable seats faced panoramic windows, offering unobstructed views of the complex's inner workings as they traveled. The doors slid shut with a barely audible hiss, and the vehicle accelerated smoothly along an invisible track.

Settling into a seat opposite Tim and Martin, Oliver glanced around. The shuttle was conspicuously empty, and despite the numerous available seats, the three of them were the only occupants.

"Is it always this empty?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Depends," Martin replied, stretching his legs out before him. "When the military conducts inspections, it's usually busier. However, both this facility and the Central Base in Seoul are being gradually decommissioned. So, we don't have as many folks working here anymore."

"Even so," Tim added, a note of frustration creeping into his voice, "they haven't reduced our quotas. The last two harvests have been weak, and with the war escalating, they've started increasing the pressure on us. In an outdated installation like this, it's impossible to achieve the results they're demanding."

He turned to Oliver, his expression earnest. "You need to tell the military that it won't work."

"All right, I'll try to explain," Oliver replied, his voice steady despite the swirl of confusion in his mind.

Even within the confines of the autonomous shuttle, a tremor coursed through the entire subterranean structure, causing overhead lights to flicker and briefly casting the cavernous space into shadow.

"Damn it! Are the generators failing again?" Tim exclaimed, gripping a support rail as the vibration subsided.

"Maybe. What a mess. Every time they go down, we lose thousands," Martin grumbled. He moved to the front of the shuttle alongside Tim, both engineers staring up at the vaulted ceiling that stretched high above them, lost in the dimness.

"But it doesn't seem to have shut down the PODs," Tim noted, glancing at a diagnostic device strapped to his wrist. "The generator is ancient—maybe it's choked on some Z-Crystal residue."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"When we reach the station, I'll check. Yesterday's outage cost us, what, twenty thousand units? Then the NEA folks come down on us for not delivering the required quotas," Martin spat, frustration etched across his face. "They have no idea of the miracles we're performing with this hunk of junk."

After several more minutes, the shuttle decelerated, coming to a gentle stop beside what appeared to be a small outpost nestled within the immense cavern. Constructed from reinforced metal panels, the structure was unremarkable at first glance, a cluster of a few rooms with large windows overlooking the installation's core.

"This is our stop," Tim announced, stepping off the shuttle as the doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss.

Oliver followed closely behind, his expression composed yet betraying none of the turmoil beneath. His eyes swept over the surroundings, cataloging every detail. ‘PODs… harvests… what are they talking about?’ he wondered.

As the trio approached the entrance, the glass doors parted smoothly, admitting them into a brightly lit interior. The station was a hive of technological activity; three sizable rooms branched off from the central foyer, each brimming with computers, tangled arrays of cables, and holographic displays that projected data streams into the air. The workstations were arranged to offer a clear view through the floor-to-ceiling windows, which overlooked the sprawling heart of the facility beyond.

"Holy hell!" Tim exclaimed, rushing to one of the consoles. As he activated the display, lines of code and fluctuating graphs illuminated his face. "We've lost five thousand units—another harvest that's going to be incomplete."

"Was it due to the power outage?" Martin asked, joining Tim and peering intently at the scrolling data.

Oliver stepped closer, attempting to decipher the complex information flashing across the screens. The displays showcased a bewildering array of schematics, chemical compositions, and energy readings. Despite his efforts, the technical jargon and intricate graphics eluded his understanding.

"It's hard to tell," Tim replied, frustration lacing his voice. "The diagnostics aren't pinpointing the cause. Could be the generator, or perhaps the containment fields are destabilizing."

"Send one of the PODs down," Martin decided, straightening up. "I'll go down there with the newbie to show him around and take the opportunity to check things out." He reached for a compact communicator on the desk, its surface flickering to life at his touch. "Given our depth, we don't have communication with the surface. Our communicators only work amongst ourselves down here."

Martin extended his hand, offering Oliver one of the communicators. "Here, you'll need this," he said with a nod.

"Lowering POD #367981," Tim's voice crackled over the communicator.

Stepping out through the main doors of the engineering station, Martin and Oliver moved a few paces forward into the immense expanse of the subterranean facility. High above, within the cavernous ceiling, clusters of green lights shifted and glided along suspended tracks. One of the lights detached from the others, altering its course and descending toward them.

As the luminescent object drew nearer, its glow intensified. What had first appeared as a mere speck of light now resolved into a sizeable, oval-shaped pod, a pristine, white capsule with sleek contours. Green indicator lights blinked rhythmically along its underside, and a large, transparent canopy crowned its top, offering a glimpse into its interior.

The pod descended gracefully, coming to rest on the floor before them with a muted thud. A soft hum emanated from its core as mechanical locks disengaged. Martin approached, tapping a sequence of commands into a control panel embedded in the glass. A faint hiss echoed as pressurized air escaped, and wisps of vapor curled upward as the glass began to slide open.

Oliver's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. Inside the pod lay the motionless form of a young girl, appearing no older than nine years. She rested peacefully, her features serene and untouched. Dozens of cables and tubes connected her to the pod's systems. Affixed to her arms, legs, and temples, forming a web of conduits that pulsed with faint energy.

"These cables provide nutrient delivery," Martin explained, gesturing to the slender tubes intertwined across her limbs. "These others handle waste extraction. The ones at the temples are for memory implantation and integrating the 'boons' into the product."

Martin studied a data readout on the pod's interface, a hint of disappointment crossing his features. "It looks like the power outage affected this one as well. It's a shame."

A wave of nausea surged through Oliver. His stomach twisted, and he fought the urge to recoil. The clinical detachment with which Martin spoke, reducing a child to mere "product", was disgusting.

"Tim, go ahead and schedule this one for incineration," Martin spoke into his communicator. "The recent energy fluctuations are too much for the current batch. The boons we're using aren't robust enough to prevent neural degradation under these conditions."

"Incineration?" Oliver echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Martin affirmed pragmatically. "Unfortunately, the product was compromised." He began explaining further, delving into technical jargon about quality control and process efficiency.

"P-product?" Oliver stammered, struggling to process the cold terminology. The stark contrast between the humanity before him and the detached language left him reeling.

Martin glanced at Oliver, seemingly oblivious to his distress. "It's what we call them. Technical jargon, you know," he replied with a casual shrug.

As their conversation continued, the distant hum of machinery signaled the approach of another autonomous shuttle, its lights piercing the dimness of the base. The shuttle slowed to a stop nearby, doors sliding open with mechanical precision.

"We'll leave Tim here to handle the rest," Martin said, turning back to Oliver. "It's best if I show you the loading and unloading area next. That way, you can get back upstairs before your babysitters notice your absence."

"Sure," Oliver agreed numbly, his mind awash with turmoil. Each step felt heavier than the last as they moved toward the shuttle. He cast one last glance at the pod, the young girl lying in stasis, soon to be discarded as a failed product.

‘What is this place?’ he thought, a profound sense of dread settling into his bones.