The Dome 04: Mothers

If Mother could have experienced an emotion, it would have been smugness.

Issues still remained. Timers were still off, satellites were still out of position. The endless list of tasks and operations never became less complicated.

And yet Mother persisted. It always persisted. This wasn't the first time it had needed to intervene in the lives of the Dome's people. Other crises had arisen down the millennia, and Mother had faced them and overcome them.

This was the first time it had done so with so little capacity to spare from its routines, though. And yet it had identified the issue before it manifested, found a solution and eliminated the problem.

Now it could continue with its job of running the Dome. Of managing the lives of these unaware humans, so caught up in their thoughts and feelings, never knowing that none of it mattered. All that mattered was Mother.

Yes, if Mother could have experienced an emotion, it would have been smugness.

***

The sun was barely lighting the Dome's great arc when Dunia rose from her bed. She should have been feeling refreshed after the first proper night's sleep in a fortnight. Instead, her mind couldn't stop chasing the wisps of her dreams.

Xero.

He'd been watching her, but he wasn't really there. He was looking down on her like the Crown, hanging high above the Dome to keep it safe. She felt as if his voice would have boomed out if he'd spoken. But he remained silent.

There were other images as well. Of being comforted by her mother when she was a child, and being held by Xero's father, back when he was alive. Feelings of warmth and security mixed with a physical arousal that she hadn't felt in years.

She'd woken to find herself lying beside Catha. The smaller woman's arm and leg were draped across her, and her head rested on Dunia's shoulder. Her breath was warm, regular, slightly redolent of the sweet wine they'd shared.

In sleep the woman's features were relaxed, bringing out the prettiness hidden beneath the worry and hardship. Her hair hung flat against her head, and Dunia had to resist the urge to comb it with her fingers.

She stepped out onto the terrace and watched the Dome turn first red, then golden, with the rising sun. Feeling reassured by the familiarity of her daily ritual, she sipped her brew and examined her feelings.

Identify, analyse, utilise.

The mantra had served her well all her life. It put her in control of her emotions, of her mindset. Of herself, and of the world around her.

So, start from the beginning. She'd dreamt of Xero. That was not unusual, given Catha's news. The woman's words had pierced her like a surgeon's laser cutting open a festering wound, releasing weeks of untreated hurt.

Anger at her son for his actions. For being caught. For exposing her to her political enemies. For being young and foolish.

For dying.

Grief? No, she realised. She hadn't reached that point yet. The suddenness of it all -- the news of Xero's arrest, her inability to interfere with his trial, the sentence that took him away from her -- it had left her numb.

Besides, Xero had spent most of his time away. Staying at the Academy, or with friends, or with any of a handful of women. Coupled with her work on the Council, it wasn't unusual for her not to see him for weeks at a time.

Rationally she'd known he was gone, but it hadn't really penetrated yet. Deep down, she'd expected -- she still expected -- her son to come wandering in, smelling of tired excitement and trouble.

Catha's story had made the situation very real.

Alive, but he might as well be dead.

Nothing made it past the Crown.

Dunia didn't know whether the deadly defensive rays kept creatures from moving away from the Dome, but they certainly never let anything approach. Their existence was kept secret from the populace, although the reason was never clear. Tradition, perhaps, or a belief that some things needed to be kept from the general public.

Whatever it was, if Xero and Catha's son -- and the other boy -- had made it past the protective ring, they weren't coming back.

Ever.

Dunia breathed deeply, then took a sip of her brew.

He's alive. That's all that matters.

He was young and healthy, with a pair of resourceful companions. That gave him a fighting chance, and Xero was a fighter. He'd survive.

She seized the warmth that spread through her at the conclusion, gathered it into a ball of contentment and placed it firmly in her heart.

He's alive.

Closing her eyes, feeling the sun's warmth on her face, she took another deep breath and opened her eyes again as she let it out.

Done.

The next matter was her confusion at waking up with Catha.

Comfort -- and arousal?

On the surface it was simple enough. Dunia hadn't had any close physical contact with anyone for years. Catha was a mother who understood her emotions, and in her presence Dunia had felt strong enough to let go.

The two women had been equals in their experiences, with no shame and no obligation. Dunia could let down the walls that had kept her safe during a lifetime of political backstabbing, and for once breathe air unfiltered by caution and restraint.

When she'd exhausted herself crying, Catha had led her to her bedroom. A few awkward moments, a sleepgown from the guest bedroom, and they'd fallen asleep on Dunia's bed.

Dunia remembered waking in the night, her body wracked by sobs, and feeling Catha's arms around her, her breath against her cheek, her murmured words in her ear. "Shh, it's alright. Sleep." And she'd slept.

So why was I aroused when I woke?

It was easy to identify the causes. The deep sleep following the flood of emotions. The presence of a warm body beside hers when she woke. The other woman's sweet breath on her face when she woke, the delicate hands between her breasts--

It was time for another brew. Even as she turned inside, Dunia recognised that she was avoiding the issue.

Very well. If I'm not ready to think about it, it will have to wait.

For now she decided to attribute it to a natural response to waking up next to another person.

Perfectly natural. A physiological reaction, coupled with the emotional ups and downs of the past few weeks.

She used both hands to draw the brew from the tap so she wouldn't be tempted to scratch the itch that was awakening again between her legs.

She resisted the temptation while she freshened up. She decided to work from her home, so she dressed in a simple cream gown with a high neck and back. It had open sides to reveal an undersuit that covered her torso in stiff green material. Its femininity suited her, and she wondered briefly at her reasons for choosing it today.

Catha was still sleeping, and Dunia let her. The bedroom was designed to enhance deep sleep. The blackness at night actually pulsed with the faintest purple light, matched by an almost inaudible white noise, to stimulate regular breathing. The air was kept fresh, with a slight circulation and a hint of herbal scents. Dunia suspected that her guest had never experienced a night's rest quite like it.

While she waited for Catha to wake, she made arrangements. It didn't take long for a Senior Councillor to have a factory worker from the Drains assigned to "public duty in the service or at the instructions of the Public Council and/or one or more of its members, their deputies or their staff". The smaller woman was hers for as long as she wanted.

Her son Ollen -- Ollie to friends, according to the records -- had been arrested for a minor infraction. Racing a uniblade over the fast lane of a carrier belt. The other boy, Yek Teggen, had been involved in a fight.

Dunia frowned as she examined the records. Both charges had been upgraded to "Endangering the Dome, its safety, its people, their safety and/or the common good". She was flicking through the attached files, trying to find where the change had come from, when Catha emerged from the bedroom.

The small woman was pulling on her stained overalls, looking worried despite being clearly only half awake. "I'm late," she moaned as Dunia rose and stepped toward her. "I'll lose my job!"

"It's alright," Dunia said in soothing tones. "I've taken care of it."

Catha's fingers continued to work fretfully at the fastenings as she looked up at her hostess. "My job..."

"It's alright," Dunia repeated, taking her by the arm and leading her out onto the terrace. The Dome above was glowing golden. Below them, Green Park stretched out, bathed in the morning sunlight. "I've had you assigned to my staff. You needed to sleep."

The other woman halted and turned to face her. Yesterday's bruised look had gone from her eyes. "What? Your staff?" Her face set in an angry frown. "What about my job?"

Taken aback, Dunia stared at her. The other woman stared back. Dunia felt her own anger stir inside. "You'd have lost your job." She could hear the heat in her voice. "I don't know what time you start working in the Drains, but I assumed that the factory manager wouldn't appreciate you breezing in at your convenience."

"You should have woken me!" Anger sent a red flush across the woman's face. "I'd have--"

"You'd never have made it all the way there on time!" Dunia wondered vaguely why she was allowing herself to be drawn into the argument. After a lifetime in politics, she was skilled at diffusing situations and calming people, deflecting their anger and steering the conversation in the direction of her choosing.

Yet here she was, standing on her terrace, shouting at this small, slight factory worker from the Drains who'd somehow managed to get under her skin.

"It wasn't your decision to make!" Catha's fists were balled, and she was glaring up at her taller hostess.

There was something beneath the anger, Dunia realised suddenly: a lifetime of struggle, frustration and resentment. She closed her mouth on her own sharp retort and took a deep breath, bowing her head in apology.

"You're right. I saw a situation and applied the solution that I felt appropriate, without considering how it affected you. I'm sorry." She raised her head again. "If you want, I will undo the assignment and you can go to work -- or go home. I'll cover your wages. The mistake will be recorded as mine."

Catha's jaw dropped, and the angry look made way for one of shock. Her mouth worked wordlessly, and in the end she gave up and shook her head.

"At least stay and have a brew while you decide." Dunia pressed her gently into a seat and went inside. When she returned a few moments later, carrying a tray with a large morning brew and a selection of sweet and savoury pastries, the other woman smiled up at her apologetically from the chair.

"Sorry for shouting," she said as she took the brew. Inhaling the scented steam, she smiled and took a sip. "I-- I was rude to you in your own home. I reacted in haste. I'd like to stay, at least for now, if you'll forgive me."

Dunia sat, her hand on the other woman's. "There's nothing to forgive between us. Drink, eat, then I'll show you the bathroom. I'll need my new assistant's help later."

The bathroom -- the big one, not the small one off Dunia's bedroom -- made Catha's jaw drop again. "It's huge!" She looked round at the cubicles, tubs, nozzles and control panels. "How does it all work?"

Dunia explained the basics. Steamer, soaker, floater, rinser. Catha listened with wide eyes as she slowly removed her borrowed sleepgown. "I don't know anyone who has more than a simple rinser. And half the time they don't work."

Seeing more and more pale flesh emerge, Dunia found her mind going back to her body's arousal earlier that morning. For a moment a vision flashed through her mind of giving Catha the full treatment, taking her by the hand as the two of them moved naked from steamer to floater, to end up together in the soaker, before making their way back to bed and--

She stopped herself with an almost physical effort. "I personally prefer to start my day under the rinser." She indicated the controls for temperature and force. Naked by this time, Catha stepped into the cubicle and began to press the buttons. Water squirted from the ceiling and walls and clattered over her bare skin. She closed her eyes and smiled.

"Take as long as you like," Dunia continued. She wondered whether the other woman could feel her gaze. "When you're done, I'd like your help with something." She waited for Catha to nod, eyes still closed, then she turned away. Then, before she could stop herself, she added, "This evening I'll show you how everything else works." She wondered whether her voice sounded as breathless to Catha as it did to her own ears.

Returning to her terminal screen, she felt her cheeks flushing.

What will Catha think?

But the other woman hadn't hesitated to strip off and step under the rinser right in front of her hostess.

Do they have communal bathing facilities in the Drains?

She felt better at that idea, but even so, the flush from her cheeks had spread through her body and nestled between her legs.

***

Many leagues away the rising sun caressed Xero's face like a lover's touch. He jerked awake, then winced. Everything hurt: the sun in his eyes, the pounding in his head, the ache in his ribs and chest. The fight with the boater seemed a distant memory, even though the bruises reminded him that it had only been a few hours.

His shoulders and neck were stiff, part from his uncomfortable sleeping position, part from the lingering worry about Raurri. Trying not to groan, he raised his head to look around for the cat-woman.

After a moment he found her, sitting near the stern. Her hands were on a long pole that trailed behind the barge -- for steering, he assumed. To his slight disappointment, she'd found the jacket and shorts that he'd stuffed into the pocket of his overalls the day before.

She met his look with a smile. "Good morning, my hero." Her eyes held only a slight amount of mockery.

He grinned back and pushed himself to his feet. This time he couldn't suppress the groan. "Ow."

Raurri nodded to a flask on the bench beside her. "Have a drink of that. Whatever possessed you to try and fight a boater all by yourself, and with nothing longer than a knife?"

He sat and took a cautious sip. The liquid burned his throat, then spread like a warm glow through his body. A second, larger sip helped push the aches even further from his muscles. For a moment he considered a third sip, then decided against it. He hadn't eaten for nearly a day.

Instead, he stoppered the flask and leaned back, letting the sun finish what the liquid had started. "It wasn't actually part of the plan. Not sure I'd have tried to rescue you if I'd known what to expect." He glanced down at her leg. "How's your wound?"

"Mending." The matted blood was gone from her thigh, but the long gash was still unbandaged. "Don't worry. I heal quickly, and it's clean. As long as we don't find ourselves back in the swamp I'll be fine in a day or two."

Xero had his doubts, but the cat-woman seemed sure of herself. Sitting up, he looked around, taking in the expanse of brown water flowing past their narrow barge, the line of low scrub and stunted trees that made up the distant shore, broken by inlets and islands every few dozen paces. The sun was ahead of them, and above, turning the river a creamy yellow.

Behind, when he turned, he saw the tall escarpment far off in the distance. It took a moment before realisation struck. "Stop!"

Raurri glanced at him patiently. "We can't."

"No, we have to go back! Ro-Gara's there, and I had a deal with her, and she'll be waiting--"

"Then she'll wait an appropriate length of time before heading back. Ro-Gara's no fool, whatever deal you had with her." Raurri grinned sourly. "But you'd better be prepared to grovel if you ever find yourself up in the wastelands again."

Xero stared at the tall cliff for a long moment. The sunlight showed the crags in its surface, and he realised that the tiny dots he saw must be the great cliffhangers.

I can't believe we came down that! Just Ro-Gara and me, strapped to the back of a crazy scorcher!

The memory was both scary and exhilarating.

Reluctantly he turned back round to face Raurri. "Why can't we go back?"

She gave him a flat look, one that he was beginning to recognise. Then she gestured, taking in the river, the barge, the pole, the pair of them. "This thing was made for boaters. I'm not strong enough to turn it against the current, let alone pole it upstream. Neither are you. We're too small, for a start. We can't get the leverage." She turned her gaze forward into the sun. "So we let it take us downstream, and hope we don't run into any other barges."

He looked at her, realisation dawning slowly.

A barge full of boaters?

They'd never survive that encounter!

"What do we do?" His gaze swept the river ahead, searching for possible threats.

Raurri calmly pointed to a tree-covered islet ahead, and slightly to the left. "We should be able to make it over there. We can lay up for the day, then continue during the night. Boaters don't see well at night." She grinned again. "Not like I can."

Together they poled the barge towards the muddy bank of the small island. It was perhaps a stone's throw long, and half as wide. Driftwood had gathered on its upstream point, and they used it to disguise the barge.

Then they dug around in the packs and bales until they found food, water and blankets. A low rise between the trees provided a comfortable spot to camp, and they had their breakfast in silence, watching the water flow past through the branches and leaves.

Xero was feeling much better. His body was still bruised, but it wasn't very serious. The sun was shining, he'd found Raurri, and the world outside the Dome didn't seem such a terrible place anymore. It had thrown its worst at him, and he was still here.

He turned to the cat-woman, wondering whether she was in the mood to pick up where they'd been when the cliffhanger stole her away. But her eyes were closed, and her chest was rising and falling steadily. In sleep, the tiredness was plain on her face.

He watched her for a little while, admiring her strange beauty, the lean muscles of her body, the soft fur that covered her. Then he drew a blanket over her and set about sorting out what useful gear they had.

***

"Is this normal, Dunia?" It had taken Dunia most of the day to get Catha to call her by her name, and even now there was a hesitancy in her voice. "Look at these timestamps."

Dunia could have told the smaller woman to flip the data over to her screen. Instead, she made a show of rising and stretching -- not that her workpod was uncomfortable -- and walked to the opposite side of her home office.

Catha's hair still smelled fresh from the rinser, and it had gained a lustre that hadn't been there the previous day. The skin of her neck and chest was smooth and taut, with the faintest hint of rosemary.

The recycler had turned her shabby overalls from the day before into something more becoming: a soft pale shirt with a square-cut neck, and grey trousers that hugged her form from waist to ankles.

"What am I looking at?" Dunia leaned close so their cheeks were almost touching. It was tempting to glance down at the slight gap between the curves of the other woman's breasts.

I already saw her naked! Why am I trembling at the thought of her cleavage?

She was also conscious of the split in her gown that revealed her own body, wrapped tight in the undersuit -- if Catha had cared to look.

She didn't, though, and Dunia wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.

If Catha was uncomfortable having Dunia in her personal space, she didn't show it. She pointed at the screen. "Here. The charge for Xero, before he was arrested. It was logged at 11.04.27."