Subcutis (Bona Dea Book 1) Page 12

  “Don’t touch it! Are you nuts?” Barbara backed away from the corrupted ground.

  “I don’t think it’s contagious.”

  “How can you possibly know?”

  “Can’t. But, well … if this planet’s got it in for us, I think it’s going to get us, one way or another. Like it got those poor saps underground.” After a moment’s hesitation, Annie placed a bare palm on the leg. “Feels like stone. Slightly wet.”

  Hunter swept her torch over the other three legs. Now that she knew what to look for, she didn’t need to approach them to see the tell-tale signs of the same transformation. “This planet’s got it in for us …” she repeated under her breath. She had heard various crew members talk about Mahi Mata “swallowing up” the buildings and people, but had never seriously considered the possibility that the world itself might be alive. But what had happened here plainly showed intelligence; the Bona Dea had been deliberately clamped to the planet.

  Chills worked along her spine, and she had to fight an impulse to get back inside as fast as her legs would carry her. She glanced down at her feet, half expecting to find them undergoing the same metamorphosis. For the first time, she felt out of her depth, a businesswoman confronting mysteries of science that would have perplexed the finest minds the Earth had ever produced.

  But her crew needed a leader. When she spoke, her voice betrayed not a quiver of doubt. “It seems that someone wants to keep us here. I’d like to know our prospects of breaking free. Grace?”

  “Don’t see any reason why we can’t cut our way loose. We could probably laser through the legs. Maybe up here, above the transformed bit.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Barbara’s voice had risen an octave. “We need to get up in the air, get away from this place!”

  “Whoa, hang on,” said Annie. “Half our crew’s missing. How’re we ever gonna pick them up if we trash our own landing gear?”

  Barbara appeared momentarily at a loss; it was the infinitely cooler tones of Sandra Rivers which answered. “Theoretically, a landing on a soft surface shouldn’t do too much damage. Or shallow water, perhaps.”

  “Why should we leave at all? Didn’t we come out here to find freaky stuff like this?” Annie rapped the stone with her knuckles. “Sure, there’s danger, but there’s danger flying around space in a metal shoe box, there’s danger every time we use the KSD. Why so scared now?”

  “Certain dangers are more acceptable to me than others. Spaceflight has its perils, yes: known perils, predictable perils. We are dealing with complete unknowns here. I don’t let fear cloud my judgement, but I do value my own life, and see no reason to throw it away.”

  Hunter listened thoughtfully. “I think you may be overstating the danger. I’ve been watching for signs of further transformation. There aren’t any. The ship seems to have been altered just enough to keep us here. For all we know, trying to cut ourselves loose could prove the trigger for further change – perhaps even the destruction of the ship itself.”

  The scientist was unimpressed. “For all we know, yes, but we have no evidence supporting that hypothesis.”

  “We do know that our ship’s already been shaken up. This isn’t the time for any fancy manoeuvres. I’m not prepared to cripple the Bona Dea unless absolutely necessary.”

  Rivers ran a steady hand through her curls. “Perhaps it is your reputation, not your ship, that concerns you. The fear that future generations will hear of how you fled back home. Not the heroic tale you have always envisioned, correct? But how many lives is your reputation worth?”

  Hunter clenched her jaw, replied with deliberate calm. “That has nothing to do with it. My years in the world of business have taught me to follow my instincts. They say ‘stay.’”

  “My years in the world of science have taught me to disregard instinct and consider only facts.”

  “You are not in command.” Hunter used her bluntest tone. Time to remind Rivers that this was no democracy.

  “Ah. I see.”

  “We’re staying, at least until our crewmates complete the walk over here, and probably longer. We’ll begin looking for answers at once.” While Rivers offered no response, Barbara turned and stalked away, thumping the underside of the ship as she went. Hunter let her go. Rivers was altogether more crucial at the moment.

  “Now, I think we’ve all noticed the link between the people underground and what’s happened up here. There’s some sort of … force at work here, a force of metamorphosis, of blurring the lines between separate objects or lifeforms. The selective nature of the changes to the ship suggests that this force is intelligent, or at least, that an intelligence controls it. Our goal, then, is to find that intelligence and communicate with it. Our plan to explore underground will go ahead. You, in the meantime, will study the metamorphoses and find a scientific explanation.”

  The other woman nodded slowly. “I’ll prepare my equipment. I assume that I can take samples of the titanium/stone hybrid, without …” She trailed off. Without compromising your principles, was plainly what she had been thinking, but Hunter had to give her some credit for keeping that dig to herself. She dismissed the scientist with a curt nod.

  “Someone other than me is the trouble-maker today?” quipped Annie with a smile, watching Rivers leave. “Will wonders never cease?”

  Hunter didn’t smile back. She was considering the very real possibility that her ship would never move again, one way or another. All their discoveries would count for nothing if no-one back home ever learned of them.

  To say nothing of the personal cost. She had good friends back home she might never see again, a 100-year-old mother who might be dead already. And then there was Amelia …

  She dismissed the negativity by force of will, refocusing her attention on Annie.

  “As long as we’re here, Grace, I suspect that the wonders will continue.”

  VI

  … We’re taking a quick break for refreshments. Our first half a day of walking was fruitful, the flat terrain and relatively sparse trees helping us to knock a good fifteen miles off. Based on orbital imaging, it seems that we will have to pick our way through denser patches of forest on the second and especially the third days of travel, but arriving some time on the fourth evening looks quite plausible. We might be quicker still if we travelled unburdened, but I can’t really blame Ferguson and Ryan for wanting to take as much of their expensive gear as possible.

  I felt a certain melancholy in leaving our camp behind, probably forever, but our focus now is entirely on what lies ahead. We have little doubt that we will reach the ship – the forest continues to be blissfully free of major predators – but what will we find once we get there? The reports we have received are so outlandish that we can scarce credit them, but the reality is that anything can happen during these four days.

  We’re all bursting with impatience to reunite with our friends, and have to force ourselves to keep to a steady, measured pace. While no-one is talking much about what awaits us, we all have the same fears: the crew dead, the ship disabled, we ourselves stranded here.

  Now Jackson is telling us to get ready for another march. Good. The one thing we don’t want to do right now is rest …

  – Daniella Winters, Journal Entry #398

  It was clear overhead as Flora walked from the ship to the mouth of the shaft. Accompanying her were the four ACMs, ready for their first attempt at mapping the caverns below.

  It was strange looking at the robots out here in the light of day. They had been designed never to leave their little rooms, nor perform any function bar sexual gratification. Flora evidently wasn’t the only one who found it slightly unnerving. When she had passed Natalia Preciado on the way out here, the biologist had blushed and looked pointedly away from Ivan. For all the changes of the past 200 years, there would always be a degree of shame when it came to carnal matters, Flora supposed.

  For their part, the ACMs seemed bemused by the field trip, their eyes roving over t
he landscape as though looking for something sane and familiar. Charlie, true to his word, was acting just like his brothers, though he’d found time for a quick kiss and a sympathetic stroke of her bandage when she’d come to collect him.

  They came to the shaft leading underground, now with two well-secured ropes that reached to the bottom, and descended. All was as before, the Matan cyborgs sleeping their strange sleep, the wall of the chamber covered with gently pulsing roots. She led them to the massive cavern beyond.

  “Okay, this is what I want you to map. Use the handpads I’ve given you, and cover every passage, every room, taking notes on anything unusual. Or more unusual, I should say. You’ve been given wristbands so you can coordinate with each other and me. So that’s all, I guess. Just … I know this isn’t exactly what you’re designed for, but you’ve got all the skills to do a great job. I’ve every confidence in you. Good luck. Unless there are any questions?”

  She’d never been much good at hosting meetings or giving pep talks. In the early days of their voyage she’d felt it part of her job as chief technician to motivate her team with winning words, but had soon given it up after a couple of embarrassing, tongue-tied failures. She left the inspiring speeches to Hunter now.

  Still, the ACMs were hardly likely to care. Ricardo bowed theatrically. “I do as my lady commands,” he purred, and turned to go. Salomon gave her a slight nod, then followed.

  Ivan scowled. “If you’re going to let us out of our cages, then why not give us work that makes full use of our abilities?”

  “Oh, well you’ve greater spatial awareness than a human, so you can make accurate maps and not get lost, and -”

  “What about our intellectual capacity? There’s a mystery here. A language to decipher.”

  “Sorry, but you’re not programmed with the right kind of expertise.”

  “You can change that.” His expression became hungry, and she felt a sudden discomfort. She had to remind herself that he was incapable of harming her, or disobeying her orders. “You’re a programmer,” he continued, “you can reprogram us, hook us up with the main computer. Give us knowledge.” He paused, then added, “The knowledge to serve you better.”

  Flora remembered that Ivan had been created to resemble a male archetype which lusted after power. Made a little too well, perhaps. “I can mention it to the captain, but we’re already making nice progress, so-”

  “So follow your orders, robot. As my lady commands.” A bow with more than a trace of mockery, then he turned and followed the others, head held high.

  Charlie smiled apologetically, but before he could speak they both heard someone approaching from above. He winked at her and left without a word.

  As he retreated from view, Preciado appeared, toting a small handheld medical scanner. She frowned at the retreating robot.

  “Here to take a closer look at the natives?” asked Flora.

  “Here to try. Would be easier if the captain would let us take a look inside them.” She held up a hand as Flora started to respond. “Yes, yes, I understand. Moral reasons. But this is my field, remember. A small cell sample would hardly hurt.”

  Flora shrugged, and turned to go.

  “Is not unfaithful, to sleep with machines,” blurted Preciado, with sudden passion. She glared at her crewmate. “My husband and I, we both say to each other: it’s okay if we do this while we’re apart.”

  After a moment of startled mystification, things clicked into place for Flora. She’d quite forgotten that Preciado was married, the discovery of Mahi Mata having pushed their conversation over the Conquest: Andromeda game out of her mind. Evidently, she had been availing herself of Ivan’s services – possibly some of the others as well – and had been getting a little paranoid, fearing that her colleagues had been talking about her behind her back. Perhaps some of them were, but Flora had been totally ignorant of the situation.

  “Of course,” she replied, in her most reassuring tones. “It’s no infidelity. How could it be? No-one thinks that.”

  “You do. You think they are alive. Nonsense. ACMs are wires and metal in a pleasing shape, nothing more.”

  Ah. I may have inadvertently sent her on a guilt trip. My feelings for Charlie have made her doubt whether her own use of the ACMs has been the harmless release she thought it was. She’s in the reverse quandary to the one I’ve been in: desperately trying to convince herself that she hasn’t cheated on her husband by sleeping with a sentient lifeform.

  “Natalia, it’s true that I have complicated feelings about Charlie … erm, about ACM-4, but I wouldn’t ever judge anyone else. You don’t think they’re alive, and your husband agrees with you. Everyone agrees with you! Just leave me to my silly fantasies, okay?”

  Preciado’s expression was inscrutable, but at length she gave a curt nod. Flora felt that some of the anger had drained out of her dark eyes.

  “I must begin work,” said the biologist.

  “I’m sure you’ll make some discoveries, even with passive scans. There’s no-one better qualified … on this planet or Earth.”

  That got a brief smile, at least. “Thank you. Hopefully your robots will find another entrance. Just let me get a full medical scanner rigged down here, then we really see what these guys are made of.”

  * * *

  Flora returned to the ship to resume her duties. She had already confirmed that there was no serious damage to the engines or thrusters – subject to final tests, which they could hardly run while fixed to the base of the mountain – and could now begin the slow process of testing the hull for breaks or serious metal fatigue. She found some mild instances of the latter throughout the day, and welded new panels of titanium alloy in place.

  Rivers was having little joy at the base of the ship. The stone appeared simply to be stone, the metal simply to be metal. There was nothing to indicate that either had ever been anything other than what they were now. She analysed the moisture which had appeared on the affected areas, but found it to be plain water with faint traces of common nitrates. She dubbed this ‘sap’ and theorized that it had transported more complex structures, now dispersed, but was plainly dissatisfied with this explanation.

  Though Flora was no longer available to help her, Gypsy’s translation efforts were gathering momentum. The ceiling of the great underground cavern seemed to be a history of the Matan people. She was preparing a summary to present to the captain sometime tomorrow.

  Annie, meanwhile, had been hard at work on the KSD since the morning, and was becoming concerned that there may, after all, have been some damage to the delicate internal systems. Fearing mental fatigue, Flora ordered her to call it a day. After eating together, they opted for a stroll outside – neither was in the mood for sleeping.

  It was evening. Pankhurst moon tried its best to shine through thick banks of clouds. In a few weeks it would block out the sun in a half hour long eclipse. Doubtless a spectacular sight, but its presence was muted now.

  They had barely set foot outside the ship when it started raining. ‘Want to go underground?’ asked Flora.

  “Yeah, let’s. If I’d known the forecast I’d have brought my umbrella.”

  “I’m guessing that’s a joke?”

  “Nah, no joke; I’ve got one in my quarters. Can’t be bothered to go back through decon for it, though.”

  “Why in the world – or the worlds – would you bring an umbrella to outer space? I mean, the odds of us finding a planet like this-”

  “Astronomical? But here we are.”

  There was little wind, but the rain was increasing in ferocity. They were glad to reach the hole and start down.

  Flora brushed damp locks from her face with one hand while controlling her decent with the other. Her hair was getting a bit unruly; she’d have to do something about that. ‘So I guess your clairvoyant powers knew we’d be finding this place?’

  “Aw, no … just me being stupid, really. I watched lots of Sci-Fi shows about adventures on alien worlds just like
Earth before we set off and let myself believe them. I even packed a bikini. Like Hunter was gonna let us lounge around getting a tan …”

  Flora glanced across at her companion. Annie wasn’t quite herself this evening. She seemed almost introspective.

  “You weren’t being that stupid. Here we are, after all. Getting rained on.” The hungry drops were still finding them 80 feet below ground level.

  “Yeah, and meeting aliens. What do you suppose they’d be like? If they all woke up, I mean.”

  “To me they look peaceful. Thoughtful. But, ‘there’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face’, of course.”

  “I’m guessing that’s a quote from one of those so-called ‘classic’ novelists you like. Either Shakespeare or Austen, usually, isn’t it?”

  “Shakespeare. And he was a playwright, not a novelist.” Flora sighed. “Honestly, Annie, how can you have lived over 25 years without reading Macbeth, Hamlet, King Lear … ?”

  “Would they help me with my work as a technician?”

  “Well, no, but-”

  “Would they make me stronger, smarter? A better lover?”

  “No … no, but, well … they’d make you a more, you know, well-rounded person.”

  “What does that actually mean?”

  “Erm … oh look, we’re here.”

  Annie smirked as they stepped out into the first chamber. “I’m scoring that one as a win for Team USA. Say, I’m surprised you suggested coming here. Seemed like it freaked you out a bit yesterday.”

  “It did, and it still does. But I hope I’m not a complete coward. Face fear and destroy dread, as my favourite therapist used to say. Also, there’s something I thought we could check out.” She brandished a handpad which held a three dimensional image. “Behold! The fruits of day one of the great ACM mapping expedition.”

  Annie took the pad. “Crazy-licious! Tunnels crossing, doubling back, leading to nowhere. Bizarre lopsided chambers you have to walk a mile to get to. Everything I’d hope for from weird alien cave-dwelling architects.”