Subcutis (Bona Dea Book 1) Read online

  “Do you know my name?” she asked.

  “No … I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, have I? I’m sure I wouldn’t have forgotten someone like you.”

  She felt a sudden rush of anger – anger at Hunter for scrubbing out three years of experience as though they meant nothing. “Give me access to your programming.”

  He responded without hesitation, taking off his shirt and crouching by the bed to make things easier for her. Panels in his back slid aside to reveal an access screen, 6 inches by 4.

  She seated herself and, not without trepidation, got to work. But she needn’t have worried. Professor Sandra Rivers, who had carried out the reboot, was an excellent astronomer but strictly an amateur when it came to programming. She had failed to detect even the first of the three levels of safeguards that Flora had secretly installed.

  She had spoken a half-truth when she told Hunter that she hadn’t directly tinkered with Charlie’s inner workings. Certainly, she hadn’t modified his personality, but she’d added an auto-save function; it ran automatically every time the ACM’s access panel was opened. Charlie’s memories and updated persona were still in there, preserved in secret at the moment Rivers had begun work on him; it took Flora barely two minutes to recall them to their rightful place.

  You’ve scratched my back plenty of times, she thought. I guess now I’ve scratched yours.

  His panels slid together seamlessly. He turned … and she knew at once that he was back. That smile didn’t lie.

  His face glowed with relief (with simulated relief, a voice in her brain corrected insistently) and he hugged her close. “Flora. You saved me.”

  “You remember everything?”

  “From before and after the reboot. If you hadn’t planned ahead I’d be gone forever.” He kissed her. Her body responded, but her mind continued to make trouble.

  “Um, there’ll be trouble if people realize what I’ve done. Do you think you could act as though you’re back at your factory settings when you’re around other people?”

  “Of course; I can be flawless, they’ll never suspect.” He moved in to kiss her again, but she broke away.

  “Sorry Charlie, but … perhaps it would be better if I didn’t see you for a bit. I mean it’s been great, and I’m glad I could help you recover what they took from you. It’s just that, well, there’s this psychological syndrome for humans who get involved with machines, and they might turn you off for good if they think you’re affecting my performance. It’s best for both of us.”

  “Hmm …” he nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes showed his hurt (an artificial facsimile of hurt, the voice chimed in, and it’s an it, not a he). “Whatever you think best.”

  “You’ll still see other crew members, so you can keep on learning and growing. I truly believe that there’s something special happening with you, maybe the emergence of a new kind of life. It would be selfish of me to try and keep that to myself.”

  “I’ll try and prove worthy of your confidence,” he said flatly.

  He’s making me feel dreadful. I thought the ACMs were designed to please? Proof that he’s – that it’s – gone beyond its programming?

  “I’ll see you around then, I guess,” she managed. Steeling herself with a conscious effort, Flora turned and walked out the door.

  She was back twenty seconds later.

  “Well, I did better than I thought I would. I made it to the end of the corridor.”

  Those azure eyes were fixed on her. “Flora, honestly, you don’t have to see me if you don’t want to.”

  “But I do. Right now, I do. I’m tired, Charlie … I want to sleep, and tonight I don’t think I can do it anywhere else.”

  Soon she was lying in his arms. His embrace was as warm as a man’s: a credit to his creators. She could already feel a delicious drowsiness creeping over her.

  “Are you real?” she murmured.

  “I thought I was the one who asked the questions.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  For a long time, he said nothing. Finally, as she slipped into a dream, she heard his voice.

  “I don’t know. But let’s pretend I am. Let’s pretend that when we get back home, we’ll sit together and watch the rain come down in Chamonix …”

  VIII

  Following the light of the sun, we left the Old World.

  – Christopher Columbus

  “So,” said Miriam Hunter, “our planet has a name: Mahi Mata. I like it. But a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, so let’s talk facts. What have we learned so far?”

  Seated across the desk from her, head scientist Sandra Rivers brushed a stray curl from her eyes and consulted her handpad. Hunter had never seen the young woman laugh nor shout, but had found the quiet exterior belied a fierce passion for the pursuit of scientific knowledge.

  “Starting with the sun,” said Rivers, “C Upsilon Nefertari is a G-type main-sequence star, much like Sol, and highly similar in age; based on luminosity and temperature, our best estimate at present has this star the elder by a mere 200 million years.”

  Hunter had to smile. “‘Mere’”?

  “A blink of an eye to a star. The main-sequence phase alone covers 10 billion years. The similarities don’t end there: Mahi Mata is the third planet of this system, with an orbit of approximately 154 million kilometres – Earth is a little under 150 million. While this planet has two moons, the inner one is highly similar to Lunar. A Matan day is 25 hours, 2 minutes, 6 seconds by our chronology; a year is 374 such days, or 407 of ours. The diameter is 13,007 kilometres at the equator, 12,964 from pole to pole – both slightly greater than that of the Earth, and in a highly similar proportion.

  “Also … we have a fairly reliable figure for the gravity now, and it represents something of a surprise … 0.982 g, plus or minus 0.005 g.”

  ‘Which, given the size difference, means that the density of Mahi Mata must be lower?’

  “Most likely. We can confirm that when we land, along with the age of the planet.”

  Hunter had an image of their destination up on her computer. “Is it fair to say that more of the surface is water?”

  “Correct: 82 percent. There’s also less ice at the poles and very little desert, even on the primary, equatorial continent.”

  “With abundant forestry taking its place,” said Hunter with satisfaction. “Life! Your team must be thrilled.”

  “Quite so.”

  “But you still resent my policy of visiting as many planets as possible, correct?”

  Rivers shrugged. “There seems little point in discussing it now. It’s past.”

  “True, but a leader should be held accountable for her decisions. I appreciate that you wanted to subject more worlds to a close study, but from my perspective, the more tickets we bought, the more chances we had to win the lottery.”

  “My understanding was that I had signed up to a scientific expedition, not a game of chance.”

  “You knew I wanted to make history. We’ve made it.”

  “The ends justify the means? Many will agree. Perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t, but as I say, it’s past. And we always respected your right to run the ship your way.”

  “There’s a relief. Thank you, Sandra, that’s all for now.”

  Still a few issues with esprit de corps, I do believe, thought Hunter as the scientist departed. No room for complacency even now, with our triumph at hand. If experience has taught me anything, it’s that resentment can fester beneath the surface, returning at the first sign of trouble.

  And trouble was only ever a few bad decisions away, wherever your journey took you.

  * * *

  “All personnel, this is Captain Hunter. Landing will commence in five minutes; please buckle up.”

  The technicians had been buckled up for a while. They sat at regular intervals around the cavernous room – 150 meters by 60 – at the rear of the ship that contained, amongst other technological wonders, the KSD and both engines. Despite
the many machines and pillars which littered the area, Flora could see all five of her team from her vantage point opposite the central generator. Van der Meyde, nearest to her, gave a smile and a thumbs up.

  After a last check of the screen at her right elbow, confirming that all was as it should be, Flora contacted the Hub to confirm her department’s readiness. She was surprised to find her hands were shaking a little; they’d landed on a few planets already with no problems, but this one had a far higher gravity, which did add to the difficulty. It should be no problem, but …

  It really would be too much if we found our dream planet only to crash on it.

  Her thoughts turned to Charlie, an impulse she’d decided to stop fighting. The ACMs were strapped in as well, of course, as was everything breakable. She hadn’t seen him since the night she’d spent in his room, well aware that her every visit to his room was recorded; tracking the location of crew members was one of the many functions that the wristbands performed. She had decided, therefore, to spend every second or third night with him, and to occasionally visit the other robots. Yesterday she had spent three hours in Ricardo’s room; she had perched on the edge of the bed and read accounts of late 21st century snooker tournaments while he sat deactivated and unmoving beside her. To an outside observer – and she was sure that they would be keeping tabs on her – it would seem that she was getting a ‘balanced diet’.

  “Suspending artificial gravity in 3 … 2 … 1 … mark.”

  Even with her frequent visits to the low gravity room, the switch made her stomach lurch. A forgotten spanner drifted idly by a few yards in front of her. Bet that’s Annie’s …

  “Heat shields deployed. Commencing atmospheric entry.”

  The main screen in the Hub must be giving them quite a view now, as the Bona Dea arced its way down towards the surface. Doria al-Hawsawi would be in the pilot’s seat, trying to coax some aerodynamism out of the blocky, trapezoidal vessel. Flora tried not to think too much about it, ignoring the creaks and vibrations and focusing on the landing thruster readouts on her screen. Her babies were holding together nicely, even as the ground rushed toward the ship and al-Hawsawi pushed them to full capacity.

  The whole process took less than five minutes. When it was over, they were deposited safely in a clearing near the sea. Aliens had landed on Mahi Mata.

  PART TWO – MAHI MATA

  I

  … We are now finding our feet on our new home, having finally been given the all clear to leave the ship. Hunter’s caution has been commendable, if a little frustrating! In an ideal universe, I’m sure that she would have kept the Bona Dea in orbit and dispatched a shuttle to the surface for an appraisal of potential dangers. Unfortunately, the mission’s limited budget didn’t stretch to including a second craft; where one goes we all go.

  Our captain, then, was understandably anxious not to allow any airborne viruses or other nasties inside the protective shell of the ship. Even after initial readings showed the air to be perfectly clean and breathable, she had Bala Abayomi (our expert in atmospheric science), double-check and triple-check in every which way imaginable.

  The captain was the first to breathe in the Matan air, with Little on hand in case of emergency. She then underwent extensive decontamination and physical checks before the rest of us were allowed out. Even now, we’ve been told not to venture far into the forest, nor touch anything with our bare hands; our technicians have also rigged a few stun guns for use in case of attacks by wild animals, though we’ve yet to run into any predators.

  Most disappointing for me is that the sea is also off limits for the moment; I’ve always been a bath-lover, and rubbing myself with cleansing lotion these past few years has been a poor substitute.

  Still, it’s an indescribable release to breathe clean air again, and hearing birdsong that has graced no other human ear is truly magical …

  – Daniella Winters, Journal Entry #321

  “So, how are you enjoying your demotion?” asked Annie, raising her voice to be heard over the decontamination shower.

  “Demotion?” Flora queried, wincing slightly under the bombardment. Some of the spray got into her mouth; this surely wasn’t the best time to strike up a conversation.

  “Yeah! The balance of power’s shifted since we landed: haven’t you noticed?” Mercifully, the shower cut off then, and Annie continued in her normal voice. “When we were in space, us technicians ran the show: any problems, any requests, we were the ones people had to come to. Forget the Hub! The ship revolved around us.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it. I dare say you enjoyed it though …”

  “But now. Well, we’re little more than glorified porters, lugging equipment out of the ship, fetching, carrying, taking notes. The scientists are bossing it; we’re right at the bottom of the food chain. Next thing you know that dumbass gardener will be giving us orders.”

  “You’re clean,” came Dr. Little’s voice over the intercom. “Come on through.”

  “There’s another one who’s letting things get to her head,” said Annie, not seeming to care whether or not the doctor was listening in. “The whole crew having to come through her domain, getting her say-so before we can get back in our own ship. And have you noticed she turns the pressure on the shower up more than Iris does? I think she likes watching us squirm.”

  I might agree with that last bit, thought Flora, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud. “Honestly, I’d not really thought about it. We always knew we’d all have to be flexible on this mission, helping out where we’re needed. And don’t forget, the captain’s asked us to set up some toilet facilities outside the ship: no-one else could do that.”

  “Oh, the glamour,” said Annie, as they passed into Medical. “We’ve travelled 20,000 light years to design bathrooms.”

  “If it bothers you that much, just think about all the ways you’re going to lord it over people on the trip back.” Slipping on white robes, they headed out into the corridor. Annie pointedly ignored Dr. Little as she waved cheerily at them from her office.

  They met the Cumberlands in the corridor. Alice was smiling broadly and clad in tight-fitting shorts and T-shirt; Gypsy was dressed all in bright red today. She looked quite cheerful but became withdrawn as soon as she saw Annie, eyes fixing on the deck.

  “Evening, girls,” said Alice. “I finally managed to coax her out of her room. We’ve been looking out the laundry room window – lovely day, ain’t it?”

  “Most of them are,” said Flora. “That’s the nice thing about coming to a new world; you can land wherever it’s summer. You should come out and do some exploring, Alice.”

  “Aye, maybe I will, if this little lassie gives me her permission.”

  Annie looked the younger woman over. “Don’t think I’ve seen you in that outfit before, Gypsy Moth. Red for passion! It suits you.”

  Gypsy’s face obligingly glowed the same colour. She mumbled something inaudible.

  “Well, we’ll be getting back,” said Alice. “It’s getting late by our time. Bloody inconsiderate of this planet to have different length days from Earth; we hardly ever match up with the rest of you.” They continued up the corridor.

  “Kind of sad to think of them stuck in their quarters all the time,” said Annie as she watched them go. “Why can’t Gypsy leave the ship? Scared?”

  “Partly that, I think. New experiences are frightening for her; I’m amazed that Hunter ever managed to persuade her off the Earth. But the main reason is the decon procedure … she doesn’t like taking her clothes off if anyone’s watching.”

  “Aw, bless her. Glad I don’t have that problem. Someone should tell her there’s no men about here to ogle us.”

  “You’re not above a spot of ogling yourself. Anyway, you’re forgetting the Killer Walrus Men …”

  * * *

  That evening, Flora visited Charlie’s room. She’d dined with Annie, who’d then had to rush off, remembering that she’d “scheduled sex” f
or that evening. Who said that romance was dead?

  It had been a couple of days since Flora had last visited. Waiting was frustrating, but fed her passion. Judging by the fierce kisses he gave her as soon as she activated him, maybe it fed his as well … or whatever the robot equivalent was.

  Her hair still hung about her head like dead grass, courtesy of the decon earlier, but Charlie was hardly likely to complain about that. He said simply, “What can I do for you?”

  “Surprise me.”

  He surprised her.

  * * *

  Hunter gazed about her with satisfaction. The vista was beautiful whichever way you looked: tall trees towered to the south and east, the soft sea stretched north and west. C Upsilon Nefertari would soon pass over the horizon and make those waters glisten with distant fire. A lovely spot for a holiday …

  The thought prompted unbidden images of commercialization to flood her mind. Trees cleared, hotels springing up in their place, the beaches crawling with tourists. She frowned. The mistakes of Earth must not be repeated on Mahi Mata. Humans would co-exist with the native life of this world or not come here at all. She knew plenty of deep space entrepreneurs who would have other ideas, but fortunately being the first to land on this planet gave her certain rights with regard to its future colonization. She intended to exercise them.

  Hunter’s gaze returned to the Bona Dea, firmly planted on the ground. It was the sight of her women doing their jobs which pleased her most. The clearing was alive with voices and activity, scientists hard at work, others pitching in willingly. A temporary science hut was being set up to house some of the more complex equipment, which might not appreciate the rain they were expecting in a few days.

  They’d had only one serious scare since they arrived; Iris Jones had felt suddenly dizzy and collapsed while walking alone through the woods. Fortunately, her wristband had automatically alerted the crew as to her changing vital signs, so help arrived quickly. The cause wasn’t clear; Dr. Little’s best theory was that the slight reduction in gravity had gone to her head. At any rate, she seemed to have made a full recovery, and no-one else had had any problems.