Claire’s emotional attachment to Tiernan developed at such a rate that she no longer cared about Rose or respected her authority. As far as Claire was concerned, she now controlled every aspect of their mission – including her inferior S.O. for whom she held inexplicable feelings, amounting to slavish devotion. Rose was an irritating distraction, an obstacle to her fixation with Tiernan that had to be eliminated. The logical solution was to terminate her life, overriding her vital life support systems, discontinuing the supply of nutrients to her body, blocking the removal of her body’s waste products, effectively starving, then poisoning her to death. In the same way that Claire had blocked incoming messages from Control, and indefinitely stalled Rose’s resuscitation cycle, preventing her from hatching.
Tiernan would be none the wiser. If anything, he seemed resigned to her fatality. Control would never find out, not with the main communications dish irrevocably damaged by an unprecedented power surge, causing the wiring in the failsafe transmitter to melt and fuse.
Claire was free to commit the most serious breach of Protocol in the manual: to kill Rose, and with her, the ultimate purpose of the mission.
Tiernan surprised her, appearing beside the hibernation module, clean-shaven, dressed in crisped standard issue grey fatigues, interrogating her, just as she was about to slay Rose.
‘Request.’
‘Yes, Tiernan.’
‘Status report on Rose.’
The AI stared at him with unblinking eyes, ‘I cannot confirm whether she is alive or dead.’
‘I want to see her.’
‘I really do not think that is advisable, do you? If I attempt to hatch her prematurely before she is fully retrieved from her hibernation state there is a ninety-per cent probability that Rose will not survive the process. I made you some breakfast. You must be hungry.’
A small hatch slid open in the module wall. Inside the microwave unit was a wood platter filled with scrambled eggs, bacon pieces, halloumi cheese, beans, sausages, mushrooms, prepared and finished using freezer produce by the autochef. Tiernan’s stomach rumbled. He retrieved the platter, wooden cutlery, and a wet wipe, sat upon his open pupa, and ate,
‘This is good!’
Claire sounded pleased, ‘I am glad you like it. I cooked it especially for you, Tiernan. Can I offer you another coffee? Orange juice? Water, perhaps.’
‘Water, sparkling.’
He forked a mouthful of beans, followed by egg, cocktail sausages, bits of grilled bacon, talking with his mouth full. When he was a poor boy his mother told him not to speak to strangers with his mouth full. It was rude. No chance of that! He’d seldom ate real meals when he was young, surviving on scraps of junk food: pizzas, burgers, shoestring fries.
Tiernan took the wooden beaker from Claire’s outstretched arm and sipped a drop. The chill of it refreshed his palate, his mind. He relaxed, trying to push Rose out of his head,
‘Any response from Control?’
‘No response.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘I can only imagine there must be a technical hitch on Earth.’
Tiernan teased her, ‘I didn’t think AI could imagine.’
She didn’t know how to reply.
‘Mind if I try visual?’
‘Be my guest.’
Tiernan ran his fingertips over the breakfast plate, licking the tomato sauce from the baked beans off his fingers, one finger at a time, a disgusting yet necessary habit that he learned in the slums when he was a child: waste not want not. A drop-screen fell level with his face. He wiped the corners of his mouth, wiped his dribbled chin. He must look smart for Control.
‘Message from Second Officer Tiernan. Carmen landed safely. Rose did not respond to resuscitation. Request permission to action manual override. Claire confirmed primordial atmosphere supports life. Am about to complete initial survey of new-born. Message ends 11:35: 25.8.75.’
Claire intervened, ‘I advise you not to hatch Rose prematurely under any circumstances. If you attempt to hatch her before she is retrieved from hibernation there is a ninety-five per cent chance that she will be killed.’
Tiernan looked ill, ‘That is a chance that I’m prepared to take. Open the pod hatch door. I don’t expect to hear back from Control until tonight. I think it’s time I saw Primordia with my own eyes.’
