SOMA (LGBT-scifi-romance)

Chapter Eighteen: Clutchstone

Sector 09: Cita Canis

Jan. 25, 462 AC

"There are three tunnels here at Clutchstone," Aster said as she guided them back towards the main hollow. Her long braid curved lazily behind her. Soma could see Earth through the gaps in iron. "You are in the ivy tunnel. It points towards Old Earth. This is where we keep computers, weapons, and access IDs to the ships. I stay in a back room of the clinic. Mercury has an office at the end." They emerged back to the main hollow. The other syns waved, but Aster ignored them. "Up there is the moon tunnel. You can claim an empty alcove as your own. Put up a curtain for privacy."

She took him, instead, up and right, to the tunnel overlooking space. "This is the astral tunnel. Kitchens and baths are through here. I will leave a clean shift outside. Take your time."

She left him in an eerie alcove with half a dozen spheres of water. Soap and detergents floated in a net nearby. Soma shucked his clothes and slipped into a mass of cloudy water, sighing in ecstasy. He never thought he'd one day be happy for baths, but his collar smelled like vomit, and there were dead things in his hair. Fish slime covered half of his body. Being clean was nice, even if soap burned in his cuts. Soma lingered—blowing bubbles in the water sphere—until his fingers wrinkled and he needed to urinate. After, he donned a shift too large for him, pressed the cloth brace against his swollen arm, and sought out food.

Clutchstone was quiet. A few syns ogled from behind their curtains, whispering behind their hands. Rust gathered on the walls in vibrant reds and oranges. The whole of Clutchstone smelled of iron. Soma followed the scent of cooking meats, around the bend in the astral tunnel to the kitchens. The air bathed in scents and grease.

There, sizzling on a metal plate, were skewers of charred meat and red carrot, a covered basket of dusky brown bread, and two shrunken oranges. When the kitchen syns weren't looking, Soma snuck off with both oranges and handfuls of skewers and bread.

He ducked out of sight, and packed bread past his teeth. The warm crust burned his tongue, and he choked on the soft doughy innards. He hadn't eaten anything since the protein bars and a scavenged bag of potato crumbles days ago: it had been a big bag, remarkably empty, and he'd given all the whole pieces to Gem. Soma hadn't had hot food since Christmas.

Then he stopped, still chewing on a stubborn ear of meat.

From where Soma was hidden in the alcove, he could see out of the tunnel to the far iron wall of the main hollow. He noticed an effigy mounted there. The metal figure was life-sized, with dark wires for hair and eyes drawn in bright green. There were burn marks on the metal. There were x's drawn through the effigy's eyes, and stains of fruit and a gloss of fresh spittle across the metal. Green eyes.

"Leanne." Soma felt a sting up his spine. Why would a relief of Leanne be defaced?

He shrank back. The obscured alcove was piled high with industrial crates. Soma pushed up to them. Most of the crates contained supplies. There was a whole tower of rice, and fruits, and vacuum-wrapped perishables. One crate contained detergents and shampoos. Another sported computing boards, with bundles of clear wire folded at the sides.

Soma's eyes snagged on something hidden between layers of wrappers and sacks of rice and potatoes. A long tapered barrel. Targeting screen. Trigger.

His breathing quickened. He shifted crates aside and dug deeper. Hidden among the supplies were weapons of all sizes—long teslas and short, powerful hawkings. An enormous newton cannon. Canisters of toxins were lined in rows next to bottles of perfume.

Then, at the center of the stacks, was a glass container the size of a shoe box. Inside was a tiny silver bead suspended in a gel matrix. Shades and texture shifted across its surface. Soma leaned his face close, mesmerized with the changing patterns. The bead was beautiful.

"It's a teller bead."

Soma turned, heart racing. Mercury floated in the alcove entrance, once more inhaling from a thick, hand-rolled cigar. Smoke framed her frail shoulder blades and the sharp ridges of her collar bones. "Can I..." Soma licked his lips. "Can I have my com back?"

"In time. We'll need to check it for trackers or corrupted applications," Mercury said.

Soma gestured out at the metal effigy. "What happened to Leanne?"

Mercury snorted. "That ugly face? It's not Leanne, it's the cowardly sister."

Even so, Leanne would've been sad. "But it..." Soma said loudly, and then changed his mind. He gestured to the stockpile of arms. "I thought this was a safe place. What is all this?"

Mercury was silent for a moment. Soma thought she looked very old, then. The laugh lines and crow's feet by her eyes carved into fissures. Soma shivered. It felt like Mercury saw into all his dark places, all his fears and doubts. "The first thing you'll learn here, Soma, is not to ask questions."

Soma stiffened. Even Leanne never talked to him like that. "Leanne always said I didn't learn things in proper order."

Mercury's eyes flashed. "These're supplies from our benefactor, someone who calls themselves Daddy Long-legs. It's self defense."

"The cannon doesn't look like defense."

"Not all of us are special like you, Soma." Mercury put out her cigar on the metal plate across her chest. "Some of us need protection. Like Aster, or your Gemini unit. I told you we are at war. Clutchstone cannot be safe without weapons."

Special, Mercury said, but Soma didn't feel it. Not after weeks of being alone and the close shaves with humans. Not after all the feral syns and climbing over spheres of culled corpses. Now that it was over, now that they were safe and Gemini would receive medical help, Soma was still breathless with lacerated memories. He muttered, "I'm not special."

Mercury lifted an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Resentment built up in Soma's throat before dying. "If... if I'm special, why didn't you send someone to help? Why did you let Cain and Maria die?"

"The cull is irreversible," Mercury said. "They were dead before they struck ground. And we couldn't risk a crossing while the black ships still roamed in Cita Avis. There was nothing we could do."

Soma stared dazedly at the orange lights in the astral tunnel. His arms were warmly lit and he could count each individual goose bump there. He was very tired. His limbs felt like waterlogged noodles. "Maria always said that when people try to spread butter on you, they want something from you. I think you need me. But that's not the same thing as being special."

"Soma." Mercury took his cheeks between her hands. Her fingers were cool. Soma hadn't felt a gentle touch in months—Gem was never kind and the amber-earring En didn't count because he was human. "You have fire. Even if that feels like an insignificant power, if Leanne named you personally, then among all the stars and across Old Earth, you are the only one uniquely suited to help us." She stared into him. "Now that's pretty special."

"But how do I help?" Soma insisted.

"For now, Aster will heal your body. Meet me at nine starting tomorrow morning, and I will turn you into a living weapon."

Soma swallowed. "Monsters. Living weapons. Sounds like one of Leanne's stories."

Mercury's grin showed off rows of cinnabar red and mercury gray in her teeth. "And we need to write our own happy ending."