Gypsy put aside her notes. Silence reigned as her companions took it all in.
“We’ve been assuming that something terrible happened to the people down there,” said Rivers eventually. “But perhaps this is their idea of Heaven.”
“Perhaps.” Hunter finished her coffee. “But it seems to me that they got a little more than they bargained for. They wanted to join with their machines, fair enough, but they’ve gone a little further than that, haven’t they? They’ve joined with the planet itself. How did that happen? And did they want it to?”
Gypsy could only shrug her bony shoulders. “Sorry. That’s where the story ends.”
* * *
The next day saw something of a breakthrough, as Ivan uncovered a winding passage that led up to ground level. It emerged at the base of the mountain, only a few hundred yards north of where the ship was anchored. They wasted no time in bringing down some heavy-duty equipment; the advanced scans they took showed the cyborgs to be composed in roughly equal parts of metal and flesh, with even the crucial internal organs’ roles sometimes being taken by an artificial equivalent. Plant-life comprised only a small part of their bodies, two or three percent being typical. The ACMs continued to map the area, which went on and on, a metropolis beneath the forest.
Morning of the following day brought a real boost to morale, as the other eleven crew members completed their trek from the original landing site. They’d marched through most of the night to arrive well ahead of schedule, but were in no mood for rest, and after the shouts and hugs which always greet a reunion of friends, most of them insisted on being shown around the caverns at once. Daniella was particularly keen, the hefty camera which she’d lugged over 100 miles seeing immediate use as she recorded here, there and everywhere, her only disappointment being that the slumbering Matans showed no signs of willingness to grant her an interview.
A wave of optimism swept the camp, a belief that Mahi Mata couldn’t long keep its secrets in the face of their combined expertise. Even the problem of detaching the Bona Dea from the planet’s surface seemed like a minor obstacle they were sure to surmount sooner or later.
Their raised spirits lasted for three Matan days before being destroyed by a new catastrophe.
* * *
Hunter was in the massive chamber they had dubbed the ‘Sistine Cavern’ for the artwork on the roof. She stood on the floor with Daniella, watching two of the ACMs at work assembling one of the journalist’s favourite toys - a 3D imager. The device would store the appearance of the cavern, which it would then be able to recreate in highly detailed hologrammatic form for the education and entertainment of audiences back on Earth. There were several of the crew underground that day, though she could only see Bala Abayomi at the moment, studying a group of Matans a couple of hundred yards further along.
“Ivan and Charlie are doing a nice job,” observed Daniella.
“Who? Oh, the ACMs – don’t tell me you’ve given them names as well!”
“Actually, I think most of the crew are using them. I’m not sure who came up with them originally but they seem to have caught on.”
“I think you know their origin as well as I do. Cartwright’s got a lot to answer for.”
“You think it might be damaging, Captain?”
“Not ideal, certainly. But the blame has to be mine, ultimately. Live with imitation men for long enough and you start treating them like the real thing. And, before you ask -”
She was cut off by a sound from overhead. Faint and distant at first, it soon grew to a roar. Coming from the hole that Flora fell down, she realized. But not one of us. It sounds like a thruster firing.
They heard a heavy impact as the thing, whatever it was, landed. Next was a rush of loose soil and a gasp followed by a scream that was rapidly choked off. Hunter remembered that Preciado was in that room. Backing up to try and get a view of what was going on, she called the biologist’s name. No response.
Heavy footsteps sounded above, and a bulky form appeared on the ledge looking down at them. A jolt ran through Hunter’s body at the sight of the brute: bearded, muscular, wearing dark trousers but little else. He was a cyborg, but there was none of the smooth melding of metal and flesh that they’d become used to. One eye glowed blue. One arm was of gleaming metal, ending with a cruel claw that gripped Natalia by the throat. The flesh around the shoulder, where biology and robotics met, was riddled with angry red sores.
“Patha ko regar?” boomed the creature. Its voice, to Hunter’s ears, conveyed anger and confusion. “Patha ko quajo renoto molor?”
Hunter raised her arms, empty palms facing the newcomer in a placatory gesture which she hoped was universally understood.
“We’re friendly,” she called, trying to communicate her meaning through the tone of her voice. “We mean you know harm. Please, release her.” She indicated Natalia, who now hung limply in that grip of steel.
The monster looked at his victim then back to her. His voice became deeper. “Chiro yogadil. Patha voro mastan!” With a contemptuous flip of the arm he sent Natalia over the edge. Hunter and Daniella both rushed forward, but neither of them were quick enough to keep her from hitting the ground hard, her head taking much of the impact.
They had no time to think about getting their stricken comrade medical aid now. The newcomer leapt from the ledge above them, jets firing from the soles of his feet, which served both to scorch the women and ease his descent. The instant his feet touched the floor, he came straight for Hunter.
Even in her youth, the captain had been no great fighter. Finding a fist-sized stone at her feet, she flung it with all her strength at her assailant, but the bulky steel arm swung up with surprising grace to block the projectile. Then he was on her.
Back-pedalling, she managed to dodge his initial swing, but stumbled and fell on her back. Her head cracked against the stone floor, her vision briefly blurring. When it cleared he was crouching over her, face set and implacable as he drew his fist back.
But a figure darted forward and checked the killing blow in mid-swing. Daniella? No, someone quicker and leaner. It took her rattled brain a moment to recognize her saviour as one of the ACMs, the one that Flora called Charlie. While not built for fighting, the robots still had greater strength than most humans – Charlie was able to restrain their assailant long enough for Hunter to scramble clear, but he didn’t press his advantage.
“Shagadin!” cried the creature. It jerked its arm free, seized Charlie and flung him into the nearest wall. He collapsed like a marionette with the wires cut. But he had bought them enough time. Bala, racing across from where she had been working, finally joined the fight, leaping into a kick to the midriff without breaking stride.
Most humans would have been felled by the blow, but the cyborg before them merely staggered before lashing out with its enhanced arm. Bala was barely quick enough as she darted away; a wicked claw nicked her throat, but the only damage was a single drop of blood running from the slightest of cuts. While her opponent was off balance, she darted forward and connected with a solid punch to the face.
This time the effect was dramatic. The creature gave a brief, inarticulate cry, and reeled backwards clutching at its bald head. It hit the ground hard and never moved again.
VIII
… We held Natalia’s funeral this morning. The service took place inside the ship, as the captain has decided not to bury her on Mahi Mata. Instead, her body will be preserved, kept in her quarters until we can deliver her back to her loved ones.
We all gathered in the science labs. Captain Hunter gave a nice speech, focusing on Natalia’s intelligence and devotion to duty. Bala spoke as well, though she wasn’t able to finish. We talked a little after the ceremony; she told me that she feels guilty for not being able to save her friend, but also for having killed an intelligent creature.
If truth be told, I don’t think any of us were emotionally ready for a blow like this. The dangers that a mission beyond the boundaries of human
exploration entailed were, of course, obvious from the start, but we only really imagined scenarios where everyone lived or everyone died. A catastrophe which wrecked our ship out in the unforgiving wastelands of space seemed the greatest fear, but we would at least have all died together.
In the face of this tragedy, there will doubtless be renewed calls to risk cutting the Bona Dea free from her shackles and departing, but I’ve come to know the captain pretty well these past four years. I don’t think we’re going anywhere …
– Daniella Winters, Journal Entry #410
Flora shone a light into the deepest recesses of her lover’s brain. She inspected her handiwork. Not bad, she thought. We’re getting there. Just a few more connections, then the moment of truth …
She heard someone clearing her throat behind her, and was surprised to see Hunter in the open doorway. The captain entered, looking out of place amongst the erotic artwork which decorated Charlie’s room. Flora was pretty sure that Hunter had never used the ACMs for their stated purpose; self-sufficiency was everything to her. Though she had a daughter, it was common knowledge that she had never had long term romantic entanglements with either gender.
“How are the repairs going, Flora?”
“Oh, okay I think. The unit suffered a jolt to its core processor, but none of it seems irreparable. We won’t know for sure until I flick the proverbial on switch, though. The rest of the damage is superficial.”
“Yes, I see that he’s lost his looks somewhat.” The outer layer of skin on the right side of Charlie’s face had several rips, showing the delicate gears beneath.
“We don’t really have the equipment to repair that.” Flora reached a hand toward the wounds, drew it sharply away as she felt Hunter’s eyes upon her. “Captain, you gave a lovely speech earlier. I’m sure that Natalia would have appreciated it. I never really got to know her, I’m sorry to say. I didn’t even know she was married until recently.”
“The only one of us with a husband. I met him a couple times.” She smiled, remembering. “Professional comedian, very quick. Didn’t speak much English, but he still had me in stitches. No mean feat.” A sigh. “He was very proud of Natalia, and all in favour of her seizing the opportunity when I told them she was on my first-choice list. He asked me to make sure she came back home safely. I said we’d all be coming back. Now I wonder whether any of us will …”
“Captain -”
“You’re going to tell me that none of this is my fault, and that everyone has the utmost faith in my ability to get us out of our predicament. I appreciate that. But I’m not here for a pep talk.’ She sat on the edge of the bed, looking hard at Charlie. ‘I could have died yesterday, but I got help from an unexpected source. He never was restored to factory settings, was he? You found a way to preserve his altered personality.”
Flora knew better than to try lying this time. “Yes. May I ask how you knew?”
“As I said, I could have died. There were two ACMs present: one did nothing, the other leapt to my rescue. But neither should have acted. They’re programmed to do no harm, yes, but not to take positive action to save lives. This display of initiative can only be explained by the robot having moved beyond his basic programming.”
“He’s asked me about morality in the past.”
“You’re evidently a good teacher.” Hunter delivered the compliment in a dead monotone. Flora could only wonder what was coming next. “You love it. Love him. Even seeing him like this.” She indicated the scarred face and open port where Flora worked.
“Yes.” No hesitation. “I can’t explain it, but it’s gone beyond the physical. Even if he were a box on wheels, I don’t feel it would make a difference.”
“I commend your passion.” She rose. “And I wonder … could you be right? Is there really a consciousness here? A soul?” For the first time since entering the room, Hunter’s eyes found Flora’s. “At any rate, your actions saved me. And you’re an adult, free to make your own choices. Do as you wish with him – I won’t interfere again.” She strode out the door before the surprised technician could thank her.
* * *
In short order, Charlie opened his eyes and kissed her.
“Mm. I was going to ask you how you are, but I think you’ve just answered that. So, how does it feel to be a hero?”
“A hero? The last thing I remember was getting thoroughly trounced in my first experience of hand-to-hand combat. Did we win?”
“Yes. The creature’s dead. You bought Bala enough time to save the captain and Daniella.”
“And Ms. Preciado?”
She looked away. “We lost her. Severe cranial trauma, and …” Flora realized abruptly that she was going to cry, whether she liked it or not. She gestured at the door and he got the message, touching the close button before crossing to the bed and holding her as a brief but powerful bout of sobbing shook her body.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a little while. “We’ve not really talked much about grief and loss, have we? I guess you’re learning first hand. It’s mostly shock, the shock of someone I talked to yesterday being gone forever today. The reminder that it could happen to me.” She rubbed at her eyes. “And guilt, because I didn’t really like her.”
“You don’t need to explain. I’m getting pretty good at guessing. All those hours of wondering what goes on in that lovely, clever head of yours are finally paying off.”
“Not so clever. Definitely not so lovely.” She ran her fingers over her birthmark. “At least we have matching blemishes now.” It was strange, glimpsing his inner workings shift as his expressions changed.
“Ah, yes.” He touched the wounds. “I noticed these. In normal circumstances, an ACM who has lost his looks is destined for the scrap heap.”
“These aren’t normal circumstances. And something good came out of yesterday’s tragedy: Hunter’s letting you stay as you are, no more interference. In other words, we’re free to move in together. After that, of course, we can marry and have lots and lots of lovely kids.”
“I don’t think that plan is entirely realistic.”
She kissed him gently on the ruined part of his face. “Maybe not. But today, let me live in my fantasy. Reality’s been too cruel.”
* * *
“We’re all still hurting,” said Hunter, “but we need to refocus. Top priority: finding where our uninvited guest sprang from.” She was joined this evening in the meeting room by Flora Cartwright, Sandra Rivers and Wanda Little. The doctor had completed her autopsy of the dead cyborg. Between that and her five hour battle to save Natalia, she was doubtless sleep-starved and exhausted. The dark shadows around her eyes certainly bore that out, but her voice still possessed its customary energy.
“Yes, captain. Well, I can confirm that the species is the same as our friends down below: four fingers, thirty-six teeth, and a dozen other little signs all point us to that conclusion. However, the union of man and machine is no harmonious marriage here. Our John Doe has two artificial feet, one hand, one eye and two lungs. All the implants show signs of rejection to some degree or other, and his whole system is awash with immunosuppressive drugs – glucocorticoids, methotrexates and various antimetabolites – which must be working overtime to keep his body together.”
“Do you know what killed him? Bala hit him hard, but not that hard.”
“Well, Iris and I found a little surprise when we opened his brain up. Part of his intraparietal sulcus has been replaced with a sort of computer unit. The sudden blow must have dislodged it and driven it further into his brain. It was a clumsy set up, really … an accident waiting to happen.”
“So John Doe is a low-budget version of the other Matans. He’s missing whatever secret ingredient they have which melds them together so efficiently. Could he be some sort of early experiment gone wrong? No, don’t answer; it’s too soon to say, I know. We need to find where he came from and whether there are more like him.”
Rivers spoke up. “He wasn’t particularly subt
le in his approach, captain. There’s a trail leading back from the top of the shaft that we could try to follow. If we’re still staying put, that is.”
“We are,” Hunter responded smoothly. “I’ll lead a small team to follow the trail. Rest assured, I’m not ignoring the potential danger of more hostiles showing up. Stun guns to be carried at all times from now on. I’ll also have Bala lead some self-defence classes, just in case.”
“All well and good, but we only have four stun guns, and we don’t know how effective they’ll be against this enemy. I must also point out that a few classes won’t transform us into an elite combat unit. Jackson and Tarvis have military experience, Abayomi we know can handle herself. But outside of those three, there’s not a woman in this crew who could expect to stand up to one of those cyborg killers. We need better fighters.”
Hunter arched a golden eyebrow. “I’m not sure where you expect us to recruit them from.”
“She means the ACMs,” said Flora, shooting a glare at Rivers.
The scientist nodded. “Precisely. I’m aware that ACM-4 was ultimately defeated yesterday, but there are two reasons for this, neither of which present insurmountable obstacles. Firstly, they aren’t programmed with any martial arts or other combat techniques, but they are designed to learn new physical skills. Ms. Abayomi can train them just as she would a human, and they’ll learn far quicker. Secondly, they are hard-wired so as to be unable to hurt any living thing. But, as Ms. Cartwright has already shown, she is a gifted and versatile programmer. I suspect that she could adjust their code for us.”
All eyes turned to Flora. “It might be possible,” she conceded with a palpable lack of enthusiasm. “I could tweak things so that they’re only prohibited from harming humans. It would be a tricky operation, though … it could potentially wreak havoc with their programming. Then there’s the ethical concerns. I don’t think it’s right to meddle with someone’s mind.”
Subcutis (Bona Dea Book 1) Page 14
