Subcutis (Bona Dea Book 1) Read online

  “That does seem a little cynical …”

  “A necessary quality for a successful journo, I’m afraid.”

  “Is exaggeration necessary as well? Annie didn’t leave Barbara ‘bloodied,’ as you said in the article.”

  “Oh? That’s what Babs told me. She had a bandage.”

  “Perhaps next time you should check under the bandage.”

  “Sensible advice. Hey, you’d make a decent investigative reporter.”

  “Happy in my current job, but thanks.” Flora glanced at her wristband. Nearly her lunchtime. “Daniella, I’m going to be eating with Annie in the lounge in about 25 minutes. Would you like to join us?” It would be nice to get to know the journalist better, Flora thought. She had always been a trifle wary of the other woman, given her function aboard.

  “Thanks.” Daniella sounded genuinely pleased. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

  “I just need to get changed first. I’m thoroughly-”

  “Attention all hands,” cut in a new voice on the intercom. Miriam Hunter. “Could you all please report to the Hub if possible. Repeat, if your duties permit, please report to the Hub.”

  They exchanged blank looks.

  “That’s something different’’ said Daniella. At the far side of the room, Bala was already swinging herself down the ladder to the main gym. “What do you suppose it means?”

  “Two possibilities.” Flora felt her jaw tighten with tension. “Either something very good or something very bad …”

  * * *

  Captain Hunter had risen an hour earlier. It had been 2 o’clock in the afternoon, ship’s time, but this didn’t mean much to the majority of the crew. Each department had their own shift system, and each individual had their own approach to catching sleep; day and night were in the eye of the beholder. Hunter’s hours were more erratic than most, as she made a point of being present in the Hub for each new leap.

  By the time she’d meditated, eaten, applied cleansing lotion and dressed – pleated grey trousers and white chiffon blouse today – her mind was fully focused on their new destination. She would be glad to leave C Upsilon Henutmire behind her; the three potential planets had proved to be a collection of bland rocks, lacking even the mass for a rounded surface.

  Spectrographic scans showed their target system to have at least four planets, probably five. Admittedly, those scans had been unreliable recently, erring on the high side on three separate occasions. They still hadn’t found an explanation for that, but Hunter was confident that her crew would crack that mystery sooner or later. They were the best, and would get their reward. Maybe this time …

  She passed through the meeting room and on into the Hub. First officer Doria al-Hawsawi was on duty; an olive-skinned Egyptian, her dark blue shayla headscarf complementing the azure tones of her uniform. At 62, she was the only crew member older than Hunter. The captain had personally persuaded her out of retirement, recognizing the value of her easy authority as well as her extensive spaceflight experience.

  “Ms. al-Hawsawi. Good morning.”

  “Good evening, Captain.”

  “Are we set to leap?”

  “Navigational data for C Upsilon Nefertari input, Kohler-Schmid Drive currently cycling. Awaiting your order.”

  “Good. Initiate leap.”

  As al-Hawsawi set their countdown in motion, sealed off the windows and informed the crew, Hunter gazed around the near-empty room. She tried in vain to recapture the excitement she’d felt before each leap in the early days. Maybe Flora had been right: the most spectacular setting would become routine and ordinary, given long enough.

  They leaped, a distance that would have taken them decades to cross at maximum thrust eliminated in seconds. The main screen began to show preliminary data from the new system. Five planets, though the fifth was a dwarf.

  Al-Hawsawi moved to the Astrological Readouts computer. Time to give each heavenly body an initial once-over.

  “Can you bring the dwarf planet up on screen?” It was small and primarily composed of frozen nitrogen, methane and carbon monoxide. No moons. Not the most inspiring start, but outermost planets seldom were.

  “Okay, on to the fourth planet.” This was more promising, a gas giant. It was currently on the far side of the system, and showed up as little more than a fuzzy dot on the screen.

  Al-Hawsawi’s voice rose slightly as she interpreted the data on her computer. “It’s colossal, Captain. Almost half again the radius of Jupiter. Evidence of a number of moons as well.”

  “Something a little different,” said Hunter, favouring al-Hawsawi with a slight smile. “I believe this one may be worthy of closer study. Let’s check the others first though. Switch to the third planet.” She turned back to the main screen.

  And there it was.

  A jewel hung in the centre of the screen. Half in shadow, fuzzy at this magnification, but glowing unmistakably green, white and blue.

  It might have been Earth.

  Hunter heard al-Hawsawi gasp behind her. She was aware that her own mouth was hanging slightly open. Everything she’d wished for, right there. All the frustrations, the self-doubt, rendered irrelevant forever.

  Without taking her eyes off the screen, she opened a ship-wide channel via her wristband.

  “Attention all hands.” She was amazed at how calm her own voice was. “Could you all please report to the Hub if possible. Repeat, if your duties permit, please report to the Hub.”

  One by one, they came, some in work clothes, some in gym gear, even one or two in their night gowns. She watched them enter, faces shifting from curiosity and apprehension to wonder and delight. Even Gypsy, eye-catching in her indigo outfit, shuffled in with her mother. Twenty pairs of eyes fixed on that remarkable crescent of colour on the screen. The Hub was packed but nearly silent, an awed hush settling over the group.

  Hunter knew that she should say something to mark the occasion. She’d been quite the speech-giver back home, but found herself struggling for words now.

  “Sisters … fellow explorers … none of us knew quite what to expect when we left our homes behind three years ago. We wanted to make history, and we knew where we wanted to make it – out here, in deep space, in uncharted territory.

  “This mission had its enemies: some who felt sure we’d fail, some who dearly wanted us to. We had to shut out all the negativity through the long months of training and planning, and when we finally blasted away from mother Earth, our challenges weren’t over. They were barely beginning.

  “I know that you’ve all had your doubts at one time or another, because I’ve had them too. Was it really worth it? The frustrations, the long hours, being stuck in the same metal box day after day … could it really be worth it?

  “Today, we have our answer. And we have it because you kept going: you kept together, kept working, kept repaying my trust in you.

  “Today, you get your reward. Here, hidden in the heart of the Centaurus Arm, is a world with enough atmosphere to form clouds, with enough water to sustain life. We’ve only ever seen one world like this before – it’s called Earth.

  “Venus has been called Earth’s twin – today it loses that title forever. Take a good look at your home for the next three years. In time, others will come. But no-one will ever forget … we were here first!”

  It was not, she thought, one of her better speeches: rather rambling, too many pauses. But it hardly mattered. Cheers, laughter, rapturous applause. In her time, she had received standing ovations from auditoriums full of businesspeople or feminists, but the acclaim of this little group meant so much more, because she had been so close to losing them.

  The often troublesome Annie was grinning from ear to ear (though she tried to hide it when she noticed the captain watching her). Flora had tears in her eyes, as did many others. Gypsy was wincing at the noise and adjusting her headphones, but even she seemed to be standing a little taller.

  Hunter turned back to the main screen. Data on the pl
anet was now scrolling up the left-hand side. It was, she estimated, a little over four days away at best speed. But she’d waited six decades for this moment. She could wait a little longer.

  Her eyes drifted again to that miraculous slice of colour.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  VII

  … This is a vessel transformed. Where once were silent corridors and chambers of brooding thought, now there echoes once more the sounds of life and laughter. The whole crew has been electrified, rejuvenated, as though we had stumbled not on a planet but on the fountain of youth.

  Our reversal of fortunes could hardly have come at a better time for our captain, whose approval ratings are rocketing faster than the ship she commands. But after her many sacrifices, it is hard to begrudge her this healthy slice of good luck … if good luck it was. Perhaps Bona Dea herself – the Good Goddess of ancient Rome – is watching over her namesake …

  – Daniella Winters, Journal Entry #316

  “So, have you voted yet?” asked Annie.

  “Voted?” Flora’s thoughts had been far away. “Oh, naming the planet. Not yet, but I’ll probably go with Natalia’s suggestion: Mahi Mata. I mean, Earth’s called Mother Earth sometimes, Mahi Mata means great mother, this planet’s slightly bigger – slightly greater – than home. It just sort of works, you know? How about yourself?”

  “That or Gaia I guess. The finalists are all kinda pretentious if you ask me. I can’t believe my idea got knocked out in the first round.”

  “Ah. Well, if you’d taken the contest seriously you might have done better.”

  “Who says I didn’t? I took it very seriously.”

  “‘Planet of the Killer Walrus Men?’”

  “Hey, we don’t know what we’re going to find down there. Perhaps the dominant species evolved from something like the Earth walrus.”

  “Fair point. I’ll see if I can change my vote. Oh, bugger it! Where’s that gone?”

  “Screwdriver escaped? Hang on, I see it.” Annie kicked the tool back within Flora’s reach. They were both under the main engine readout console, which had been sporadically losing power recently: almost certainly a simple loose connection, easy to fix but difficult to find. The strong smell of rubber and rhythmic whirring of the console were starting to give Flora a headache, as were Annie’s bursts of loud and tuneless humming. She was starting again now, an almost unrecognisable rendition of Clair de Lune. Flora tolerated it for two minutes while struggling with a stubborn bolt, but couldn’t face a third.

  “You know what I like most about working with you, Annie?”

  “Sneaking glances at my delectable ass?”

  “Incorrigible. No, I was referring to your boundless energy. It can be quite inspiring.”

  “Aw, thanks Boss.” Annie grinned over at her.

  “You know what I like least about working with you?”

  “Same thing?”

  “Same thing.”

  “Ah. My telepathic powers are telling me you’d like me to stop humming.”

  “It’s a shame they didn’t tell you that a bit earlier.”

  “Ouch. Consider it done.”

  They were silent for a while. Flora tried to concentrate her mind on the job at hand, or on the historic landing which was now only two days off, but it slipped back into its familiar track at every opportunity. She sighed heavily as another circuit board revealed no problems.

  “Annie, are people laughing at me? I’m not sure if I’d blame them.”

  “You mean, over the whole Scarabelli thing?”

  “I know it’s common knowledge now. People have been giving me looks.”

  “Well, none of us technicians think any less of you. Who cares what a couple of officers are saying. And a few scientists.”

  “And the ship’s captain, and doctor, and gardener …”

  “Sure. Look, the point I’m trying to make is that the people who count have got your back on this one. We don’t care about the rest and neither should you.”

  Flora began unscrewing another panel. “Thanks. That does mean a lot. I guess it’s my own opinion that I’m most uncertain of. The book says I should go and see him now, in his ‘rebooted’ state. I’m not sure how I’m going to react. Perhaps I’ll put it off till after we land.”

  “I’d get it out of the way quickly, if it’s bothering you. But if you want to ignore the book and keep on fritzing him every night, I won’t blame you. He’s a better man than that jackass politician you were married to, even if he isn’t made of the usual snips and snails.”

  * * *

  They fixed the problem shortly before Beta shift relieved them: tall, blonde Evi Van der Meyde and the crew-cut Lorna Costa, bouncing slightly on her artificial legs. Flora had eight hours until her next shift, and intended to spend them catching up on lost sleep.

  But her brain had other ideas. It continued to whir away at full pace, conjuring up images of circuit boards and access panels, and playing Clair de Lune on a loop.

  Perhaps I should read for a bit, she thought, clambering out of bed. Looking through some old snooker stats usually calms my mind. Feed the inner nerd …

  Once she’d picked up her handpad, however, she found herself writing rather than reading. The poem came to her far more easily than she was used to.

  Are you real?

  Can your circuit boards and wires

  And the frame through which they wind

  Give to you that spark of life

  Hold a heart, a soul, a mind?

  Are you real?

  When I look into your eyes

  I can’t believe that you’re a fake

  Oh, but yet I know the science

  That governs every move you make

  Are you real?

  If I should die tomorrow

  I know you’d shed a tear

  But then, that’s just your programming

  And you’d feel nothing, I fear

  I know that I am being tricked,

  That this is foolish, what I feel

  But still I yearn to live the lie

  My soul insists that you are real

  She read it back with a familiar feeling of embarrassment. Her poems always rhymed, but had a juvenile quality she could never quite put her finger on.

  But …

  No denying, it summed up her feelings pretty nicely.

  Flora was dressed and halfway out the door before she fully realized what she was doing. Her feet certainly knew where they were going, taking her unerringly to the opposite corner of the ship, through an unmarked door to the short corridor dubbed the ‘red light district’ by Annie.

  Four doors on her left led into the heavily soundproofed rooms which housed the ACMs. Or, to give them their full names, Anthropomorphised Carnal Machines 1 through 4. While their internal construction was much the same, outward appearance and persona differed markedly from unit to unit, ensuring a wide range of available sexual experiences for the crew.

  Flora had given them all names, which seemed to have caught on. ACM-1 she had dubbed Ivan, with the Terrible very much in mind. Bearded and heavy-browed, a designer suit clinging to his taut muscles, arrogant and domineering, he certainly grabbed the eye. Those who investigated further would find an improbable 11 inch endowment waiting for them. An alpha male, albeit one who could be deactivated with a single word. Flora found him repellent and had never used him, though evidently others thought differently – a light above his door showed that his services were currently being engaged.

  Next was Ricardo, the Latin Lover. His visitors would be swept off their feet and treated to massages, poetry and other foreplay before being ravished to their heart’s content. All good fun, but rather clichéd for her taste.

  Through door 3 was Salomon, dark-skinned and bald. Flora liked his silent, intense persona, and he had been the last ACM she had used apart from Charlie. How long ago had that been now? Over a year, she guessed. Somewhere along the line, seeing another unit had started to feel
like an infidelity. Her emotional attachment to Charlie had amused her at first, but she’d been drawn steadily deeper in.

  She stood before his door now. His room was unoccupied; she couldn’t deny her relief at that fact, nor the jealousy she’d felt in the past when she’d found it in use. She’d liked Charlie’s personality from the start – he was very much the boy next door, not as improbably attractive as his trio of brethren. Just an ordinary man: brown hair, blue eyes, a charming touch of shyness about him.

  Her heart quickening, Flora entered. The room was pink in colour, with erotic murals on the walls. No furniture but a bed, rug and a cupboard for storing “toys.” Charlie sat rigid on the edge of the bed. He wouldn’t activate until she gave the command.

  “I know why Dr. Little wanted to talk to me about my marriage,” she said. “It was to make me realize why I find you so appealing. Steve was never interested in me, only himself. But you … you give me all your attention. One hundred percent, every second I’m with you. And you want to learn, always asking me about myself, my life.

  “So yes, I want you to be real. Even though the rational part of me says, ‘Everything he does is a simulation of humanity, the lights are on but no-one’s home,’ I can’t accept that it’s as simple as that. You’ve grown while we’ve been together. Changed. That’s one definition of life, isn’t it? To keep evolving?”

  He didn’t reply, didn’t hear. As dead as stone.

  “ACM activate,” she said softly.

  The response was immediate. He straightened, looked up. Smiled at her.

  That was enough to confirm to her that his personality has indeed been rebooted, as Hunter had said. Not that there was anything overly artificial about his movements, but the shy smile was the same one he had given her when they first met. It had changed with their relationship over the years, become fuller, deeper.