She was sitting on a jagged rock staring out to sea when he found her. He wondered if it hurt her sitting on the sharp edge like that. But that was how she lived her life, as did he these days. Constantly on edge. Ever on the alert. She sensed his presence, crowding her,
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
The scenery was beautiful. The shelf of rocks were a stepdown to the sandy beach where she’d thrown her beach towel, a used bottle of factor fifty suntan lotion, a drawstring bag. The tide was out for hundreds of yards leaving a trail of spiral wormcasts, worn pebbles, the occasional strip of bladderwrack strewn in its wake. A ribbon of seashells hugged the shoreline and there wasn’t a plastic bottle in sight. Twenty-nine years after the conference in Glasgow called on the World’s leading industrial nations to save the planet, the Earth was very nearly plastic-free. At least, most of the beaches were clear, other than the polar extremities and remote tropical islands. The seas and oceans were congealed suspensions of micro-plastic that would last an eternity. Other than the heavily farmed coastal waters, there were no fish left.
She watched a solitary grey seal bob its head above the water then submerge in its desperate search for food. Desperate: the only adjective left that adequately described the plight of common, not rare, common wildlife these days. The wild fish had gone, long ago, as had the seagulls that fed on them. Bees were extinct. So were whales, dolphins, and porpoises. The world had reverted to a domain for the scavenging rats, plagues of flying ants, deadly mosquitoes, countless variants of virus that kept the dwindling human race locked inside their solar-panelled homes.
She was beautiful.
They had secretly exchanged recent colour images of each other online before they met. As secretly as they could. The plethora of official hackers, scammers, interfering bugs, illicit surfers, corporate, legal, and institutional monitoring systems, web scanners, and surveillance drones meant there were no secrets anymore. No discreet veils of privacy behind which they could hide.
Unveiled, yet well-covered by her grey nylon spandex bikini, she was more beautiful than her handheld image portrayed, achingly beautiful. Smaller than he’d imagined, petite. He went and stood beside her. She was holding a half-empty stoppered glass water bottle in her right hand, resting it on her rock. She turned to face him, apprehensive, serious, no smile. Different, she looked pleasingly different from her image, with her long brown oak hair, draped, fallen as far as her breasts. Her skin was lightly tanned. She had slender arms and legs, a slim waist, firm abs, teak eyes, a turned-up nose, a spoilt brattish look, such a lovely face. The sea was a flat calm. The sun beat down on her. Her cheeks were coloured, about to burn. As he’d expected, there were no rings on her fingers. Like him, she had no family ties, none at all.
‘Tiernan,’ she said.
They were breaking all the rules, Control’s rules, meeting here, but simply had to meet, before they were placed into separate hibernations for their one-way mission to the stars. He simply had to see her, here, looking like this,
‘Tiernan,’ she repeated.
‘Yes?’
‘Do you think Control knows? I mean, about us?’
‘Probably. It’s too late to matter, it isn’t going to abort the mission because of us. Anyway, I don’t care,’ he stood behind her massaging her shoulders, ‘Do you care, Rose?’
She smiled for the first time, loving the sensation of his touch, his coarse hands rubbing her soft, delicate skin,
‘No, I don’t care what Control thinks about us. I only care about you, me, our survival. The continuation of the human race. Life here will soon be over. Persson confided in me, read a leaked document from Control, deliberately, I believe, selectively leaked. Knowing I’d get to see it. Knowing it would motivate me to succeed.’
He gripped her shoulders tightly, ‘Persson showed you?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did it say, this document? Or am I not supposed to know, Officer.’
She giggled at him childishly, ‘You don’t need to call me that, Tiernan. I’m off duty.’
He brushed her hair lightly with his fingertips, touching her hot puffy cheeks, ‘So I see.’
‘Officially the scientists say there’s still hope. That we can ride the wave. Develop further vaccines. Come out of this alive. Until the planet burns. The document says otherwise. The document says the coronavirus is now mutating at such a rapid rate that the scientists fear they’ll lose control. But officially, there’s still hope, like there is for our environment, our habitat. I drafted a story about it in my mind. Drafting stories in my mind helps me to escape. Like to hear it?’
Tiernan was amazed, ‘You write stories in your mind? How do you remember them all?’
‘Exactly,’ she asserted, ‘I remember them exactly. I had the Chip inserted into my brain to give me additional mental capacity,’ she laughed, ‘That’s why I’m C.O and you’re only Second Officer. Come and sit with me on my towel.’
He let go of her hair, brushing her cheeks, ‘I don’t know about that. There isn’t room.’
‘We’ll make room,’ she cried, in a rich, cultured, Oxfordshire accent, ‘Come on!’
She left the bottle. They went and sat on the towel facing the distant horizon, him behind her, his arms wrapped round her waist. She began with the title, ‘Of Habitat, and Hope…
The anti-mermaid lives outside her mythical habitat, struggling to swim against the tide of modern life. She’s Covid, coughing, gasping for air, drowning in an alien murky sea of despair, an ocean of grief, pain, and sorrow. But she’s tough! A fighter! Lover of the good, a kind nurse, caring soul, an example to us all. Megan will make it through, grow a mermaid’s tail of her own, and live to be free. Happy. Content. Swimming in the warm swell of love, which tends us all. Her underlying torrent of strength, her bubbly, frothy, inexhaustible hope, a driven will to overcome the odds that will surely see us through.’
‘Well,’ she added, the pride burning in her voice, ‘What do you think? Do you like it?’
‘I love it. Where did you learn to write like that?’
‘I didn’t,’ she admitted, ‘I paid to have a fiction writing implant fitted.’
He gave her slender hips a good squeeze, ‘Another implant?’
‘Mm.’
Tiernan wondered how much of his C.O.’s mind truly belonged to her and how much was under Control, ‘I guess that figures!’
She removed his hands from her hips and stood, without using her hands. Turning to face her subordinate, she pulled off her bikini top. He laughed aloud at her antics,
‘Why are you laughing at me?’ she smirked, ‘Don’t you like my breasts?’
He smiled at her, ‘I love them! You’ve got beautiful breasts.’
‘So, why are you laughing at me?’
‘I was laughing at your white bits. I’ve never seen a woman’s white bits before. Me, I don’t have white bits,’ he rubbed his chest, ‘I’m this colour all over, ebony, through and through.’
She pulled down her bikini bottoms, grinning at him thoughtfully, ‘I suppose you are.’
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he asked, springing to his feet.
‘I think we should have sex, don’t you?’
‘Why?’
‘Because’ she lectured, matter-of-factly, ‘if you don’t survive hibernation we’re finished.’
He couldn’t stop admiring her perfect body, ‘And if you don’t make it through the night?’
‘Oh, if I don’t live, I’m sure Claire will take care of you.’
‘With respect, Claire can’t love like a real woman. Can’t have babies like a real woman…’
She shoved him off her towel, lay down and arranged herself for him, ‘You’d be surprised at what Claire is capable of; she certainly seems capable of becoming sentient, emotional, maybe even loving someone…’
‘You know, don’t you?’ he interjected, ‘Know the ultimate purpose of the mission.’
She shook her head, ‘No, I honestly don’t. Only Claire knows that. I’m sure she’ll tell us all about it when we reach Primordia.’
‘Sure, about that, are you?’ he snapped.
‘Very sure,’ she dropped the issue, ‘Now pull down your shorts and climb on top of me.’
He did exactly as he was told.
‘My, he’s big!’ she gasped.
He blushed under his ebony skin, ‘You sound surprised.’
‘Not surprised, Tiernan. Merely impressed by your dimensions…’
‘I keep myself in shape.’
‘I can tell!’
She drew his lips to hers and kissed him fully on the mouth, pausing to whisper in his ear, ‘I like my sex rough, by the way.’
He kissed-her-some-more, ‘I thought you would, Officer.’
An inquisitive, naughty grin spread across her face, she flushed – bright scarlet, ‘Why?’
‘Because you’re a pretty, tough woman.’
‘Thank you.’
While they were making love, she told him to put his hands round her throat. He did, even though his hands were trembling; he gripped her gilded swan neck with his shaking hands.
‘Not like that,’ she insisted, ‘tighter!’
He gripped her throat tightly until she was struggling to breathe, and her face turned puce.
She hissed at him, frothing spit, sputum at the mouth, drooling over his chin, his disturbed swan.
‘Say it!’ her cheeks swelled, her lips were tinged with blue, ‘Make me!’ she was gasping, ‘Force me!’ she panted, choking under his steely grip, ‘Force me.. to tell you.. I love you!’
‘Tell me you love me!’
‘I love you,’ she whispered, exhaling, calming, ‘I… love… you…’
She closed her eyes and stopped breathing…
‘Rose? Rose. Rose!’
‘Rose is not responding to resuscitation,’ Claire advised, ‘I cannot seem to resolve the ongoing fault in the LS74 life-support monitoring system. It is impossible for me to confirm whether Rose is still alive. Would you like me to terminate her for you?’
‘No! Keep trying!’
He was back on the sunpad, aboard Carmen, on Primordia, twenty-five years from Earth. Under Claire’s watchful eye. Rose was still immersed in cryogenic fluid. Yet to hatch. If she ever hatched.
‘How long have I been asleep?’
There was something soporific about life aboard Carmen. All he wanted to do was sleep. The after-effect of hibernation? Or some benign or hostile influence from the alien planet.
‘Eight hours, thirty-six minutes, and ten seconds, Claire responded, adding, ‘Tiernan, I am experiencing difficulty with the reception of transmissions from Control. Control has not responded to this message:
CLAIRE: 10:57: 25.08.2075: CARMEN HAS LANDED. CARMEN HAS LANDED!
The awful realization dawned on Tiernan like an unforeseen eclipse. He was alone on an alien planet with an AI he didn’t trust, and an unborn woman he couldn’t love – or mourn.
