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My Flesh, Your Blood
David Contara
Without oxygen, there were no flames. Just a dull thud and an exploding globe of debris and dust fizzling into icicles scattering over an area tens of miles wide. That is what I witnessed through the porthole of my freight module as it spiraled down.
The rushed images of those last minutes are now a blur: hurling myself into the module, sealing the airlock, and detaching it from the carrier ship; my hands clutching the throttle as I fired the reverse thrusters to fight terminal velocity, knowing it was too late to attempt any landing; the module’s tail scraping the ice ridge and blowing open, spitting me down into this ravine.
How I made it alive, I do not know. And it doesn’t matter, since I won’t be for long. I don’t feel my legs. For air and energy, all I have is my spacesuit; twelve hours at most, with minus 110 degrees Celsius outside. My only shelter from falling seracs is a tattered metal panel from the module hull. Smaller scraps of unusable debris litter the uneven, frozen terrain around me. A few feet away, the coffin-sized bio-pod capsule lies cracked open on one side, damaged beyond repair.
My precious cargo. Dormant for most of the trip, but self-reactivated just in time to extract herself from the capsule and don her EVA vest. Now my sole companion, she kneels on the snow-packed ground, inspecting my jumbled limbs.
“We need to stabilize your legs,” she says through our comm link.
“I don’t have legs anymore.”
She turns toward me. Behind her helmet visor, flowing dark hair frames pretty cheeks and an inquisitive brow. “I’ve been trained to deal with emergencies,” she says.
No older than sixteen despite her adult voice, she reminds me of my own Annie and how she’d dreamt of becoming a nurse, if she’d had a chance to grow up.
“What generation are you?” I ask.
“Fifth.”
I chuckle. “I thought so. Newest one. I doubt you’ve seen many emergencies.”
She blushes. “I’m aware your kind doubts our abilities.”
I’ve doubted my daughter, too. And never had time to apologize for that.
I know the parents of her body. Once a brilliant scientist, the father was never the same after the rover accident that took his daughter away. Lena was her name. Killed by a brain injury, her body miraculously intact. I cannot fathom how he’ll feel seeing her repurposed into a new synthetic life, chips and endoskeleton hidden by an appearance of fleshy humanity.
You can recycle her body, but not her soul, I’d warned him.
Yet he had persisted. I remember to this day how I winced—my jealousy at not having had the same opportunity with Annie years earlier was definitely a part of it. But I took the assignment to fly his new Lena across the planet from the Renewal Center to his settlement.
To the ire of my associates. You’re trading death, they accused me.
I’m bringing hope to a father.
Hope now stranded for good somewhere near Mars’s North Pole.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“My latest recorded location up in orbit was in the Lemuria region.”
“How far from Scandia Settlement?”
“Approximately nineteen-hundred miles.”
I glance at her EVA vest. Latest generation droid-only issue. Optimized for weight and energy storage with superior thermal insulation.
Not only do they outlive us, they also wear nicer jackets.
“What’s your autonomy?” I ask.
“At rest, three weeks.”
“What if you walk? How many miles could you cover?”
She flinches at the suggestion. “That… that depends on the terrain. What are you—”
“There’s nothing but flats of ice and rocks between here and Scandia.” I point at her vest. “How far will that support you?”
Her hands fidget. “Depends on my load. I’d need to find a way to transport you and—”
“Alone.”
She stiffens. “I can’t do that. I won’t leave an injured human alone. We can wait here for a rescue.”
“No one will find us. Not for days or weeks. The carrier ship’s wreckage is scattered over dozens of miles.”
She hoists her body up and paces nervously, her boots stomping on ice, arms waving at the ravine and the gray-white sliver of sky above the rim. “I can climb out and search for remains and resources to support us while we—”
“You’re wasting energy,” I press. “Calm down. Again, how far can you go?”
“Steady walk, eco-mode to optimize power consumption, while accounting for the cold… fifteen days. At four miles an hour, about 1400 miles. That is very optimistic and assumes even terrain and minimal load.”
One more week.
I lean my head back on the ground and close my eyes.
I wish Annie had one more week.
“Did you say you’re fifth generation?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Proto-human vital organs to integrate your lithium-powered core, correct?”
“Yes, but—”
“You can eat, right?”
Lips parted, her deep brown eyes now stare at me. “It’s… it’s experimental. Tested only with processed food.”
I wave a hand across my body. “Look at me. How much more?”
“No… I’m not programmed to do that!”
“You’re not programmed to survive?”
“Not if that involves harming a human.”
“You won’t need to hurt me. I’ll die soon.”
“But why? Why would I do that?”
“To bring hope to a father.”
#
RBD UNIT S/N #572 – CODENAME “LENA” – BEGIN MISSION LOG
Start location: Lemuria Region, 69.8N 160.0E
Target location: Scandia Settlement, 50.21N 212.1E
Total Distance: 3129 km / 1944 miles
Load: body mass, EVA vest, plus estimated 15 to 20 lbs. extra supplies.
Resource Assessment: EVA vest at 95% capacity guarantees autonomy for 72% of itinerary. Insufficient to reach destination. Per human suggestion, overriding internal ethical systems and procuring additional energy reserves from organic material, mostly protein and lipids.
Additional Notes: Humans can defy logic. They have a strong sense of relationship, occasionally trumping instinct for self-preservation. Can be contagious. Connect with care.
February 9th, 2024
David Contara lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. Technologist by day and writer at night, his primary interests are in drama, speculative fiction, and a blend of the two. He enjoys capturing the shades of humanity revealed by characters living and struggling in disparate settings, from the mundane to the fantastical ones. He is currently working on his first novel.
more stories here
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Lyndsey Croal’s – Space for One, a sci-fi tale about hard choices and living with the consequences.
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Wyldblood 14
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Nine great new short stories and two drabbles in a fine new collection from Wyldblood. #14 is packed with science fiction and fantasy from imagined worlds to gritty reality a clutch of adventurous, thought provoking and sometimes sligtly unsettling tales which should give you plenty to read though the long winter nights. Available in print and digital formats.
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