SOMA (LGBT-scifi-romance)

Chapter Seventeen: Ivy Syns

Sector 09: Cita Canis

Jan. 25, 462 AC

Soma felt dizzy. The uproar and the vastness of Clutchstone overwhelmed him. The main hollow was surrounded by cascades of iron stalactites and pillars of porous metal: it was like a massive honeycomb crawling with bees. All around him, nestled in iron, were muted artificial stars. There was no gravity in the rock, but there was heat and light and maybe fifty synthetics. Most of them were perched like birds in the iron weave, in pairs and triplets, in patched outfits with mufflers and layers of coarse hemp.

Mercury raised a hand and the cheers subsided. "The Behemoth is taken care of," she announced with her metallic smile. "This is Soma and Gemini-190."

The resulting whoops and dozens of expectant gazes made Soma avert his eyes and flush all the way to the tip of his ears. He'd never seen so many people in one place. "Um... hi."

"Don't be intimidated." Mercury dropped a heavy hand on Soma's shoulder. She nodded back towards the ship, where a few sturdy syns crawled down the dented chrome wings to inspect the ripped hatch. "They look different, but they're workers with the same programming you grew up with. And up there? Those are the same companion syns and ivy syns. We're not strangers, Soma. Every syn is an old friend, even meeting for the first time."

"Is that something Leanne said?" Soma wondered.

Mercury raised her voice. "We've a damaged ship and two patients. Where's Aster?"

"The clinic," a syn replied. "Working on the media scrambler Leanne wanted."

"Finish up here and give me a damage report," Mercury ordered. "Take anything you need from Daddy Long-leg's supplies. I'll get the squirt settled. A bath, at least, for the stench."

I don't stink, Soma thought indignantly. He sniffed at his shirt and decided to stay quiet.

Mercury took the edge of Gemini's cot and led them along the edge of the main hollow towards three branching tunnels at the far end. The entrances were framed with black carbon sheets. Mercury pulled the sheet of the middle tunnel aside and beckoned Soma through.

"Is Aster the nurse?" he asked.

"She's ivy-programmed. A hundred and seventy IQ. Functions in astrophysics and synthetic engineering. Smartest syn I ever met. She does everything around here." Mercury gestured. "We're in the ivy tunnel. Aster's clinic is just past here."

The ivy tunnel led to alcoves filled with humming machines.

Around the iron bend, they came to a makeshift infirmary. The walls were white corrugated plastic. Racks of medical monitors lined the ceiling. Sealed packages of gauze and shrink-wrapped tackboxes sat in metal crates.

A young synthetic—her body maybe twenty years old—floated at the far end of the infirmary, curled around a green electronic board the size of Soma's fist. Sparks darted as she soldered silver droplets into gnarled lines. A monitor whirled next to her. She was dark-skinned like Soma, but taller and much wider. A yellow dress hung from her frame and a smudge of orange lipstick stained her bottom lip. Her long braid came down to her ankles and her hands were covered with black henna patterns. She couldn't move her right arm much, Soma noticed—the limb was a dead anchor against her shoulder. She looked half broken, like the ferals living in trash spheres in Cita Avis.

"Aster," Mercury introduced. "Squirt here's our new human."

Aster blinked down at Soma, lips curling downwards. "Not much to look at, is he? Not even enough of him to pick fish teeth with." Soma recognized her quiet voice from the com.

"I'll leave the patients in your capable hands, Aster," Mercury said. She left with a jingle of wires and metal pieces. Soma stared forlornly after her, unsure of being left in this vast, foreign place with a synthetic he didn't know. Unlike Mercury, Aster didn't smile.

"What happened?" Aster asked, setting her solder pen aside.

Haltingly, Soma explained. Aster dug a snail-shelled tackbox from the medi-kit on the wall. She inspected Gemini's blocky, broken ribcage, and pressed the tackbox needle just below the syn's third rib. She moved carefully, methodically—like she balanced whole galaxies on both shoulders.

Gem's body jerked, his eyes opening very wide in his gaunt face. A throaty gurgle ruptured from his mouth. "Hold his shoulders steady," Aster warned.

Soma moved to help, throwing his entire weight against the massive dock worker. He felt along the syn's damp side to find the wound still hot beneath the medical tape—achingly so—but not bloody. Aster loosened the tape from Gem's side. She swiped at skin with alcohol, and made a slow incision where the bruising was darkest. She connected a second medical monitor to the inside of Gem's arm. After a moment, Gemini settled.

Shakily, Soma managed, "Is he hurt badly?"

Aster didn't look at him. "We are made from humans, squirt. Stronger, able to perform hard labour, but we are but not invincible."

"He looks calmer," Soma's left hand brushed hair from Gemini's face. "He doesn't look like he's in pain. Isn't that good?"

"I gave him enough painkillers to knock out a Behemoth," Aster began to massage the syn's ribs carefully. "We will not know the extent of the damage until the scans finish. When he is calm, and if I need to, I will go in and stitch up any lesions. Now, settle in that bed and we will look at your arm and side."

Soma didn't look as Aster lifted his coat flap and shirt to inspect the mottled bruising underneath. She asked, "Take any medication?"

"Saba powder, for asthma," Soma admitted.

Aster's lips twitched. It was an odd contrast; her words were sharper than her mild expression. "Hard to find saba these days."

"I don't need it much," Soma said, defensively. "Just when... well, when bad things happen or I breathe in a bad way, my eyes get hot and I lose my breath."

"Must be the pollution in o-six," Aster said. "Breathe in." Her hand was cool on his mosaic side. Soma breathed in and his head spun from the sudden burn.

"Ow," he choked.

"You have an infection," Aster said. "Ow is an understatement. Your temperature is unusually high as well, but that is probably your genetic condition, squirt, not fever."

"Soma," Soma corrected, wincing. "What's a squirt anyway?"

"Hmm... It is a condescending word for people below average height."

Soma scowled. He looked up and away as Aster bandaged his side. "Is this place safe?"

"Yes," Aster said. "Clutchstone is Leanne's third haven, since the Man of Means personally routed the Monolith in Cita Corvus and Sentinel Tower in Cita Avis. Here, it is as safe as we are careful."

Soma's eyes widened. Leanne's haven. "When do I get to see Leanne again?" he asked.

Aster laughed, a breathless sound that turned partway into a cough. "Never."

"Why not?" Soma asked, stung. "If this is her haven, she has to visit some time." He scrunched up his nose.

Aster held up her hand. "There will be time for all your questions when you do not smell like a morgue."

Soma paled, suddenly self-conscious of the heat and rot clinging to his hair and coat. He swallowed his questions and squirmed through the rest of the treatment.

According to Aster, Soma's arm was not broken, but he was given a series of nebula-pink capsules to fend off further infection, a cloth brace, and a pad of coolant gel for his bruised side. The nurse prescribed rest for at least a week. The first of the capsules took the bite out of the pain, and Soma could finally move his right arm without agony.

"Thank you," Soma had time to say before Aster ushered him out.