They turned off the relatively short entry corridor after about ten meters, entering another that ran toward the aft of the submarine. Numerous doors lined the corridor on either side, some of them standing open to reveal knocked over furniture, scattered objects, trash, and more bodies. Theo knew Kane could tell her how many people had been on board when the slaughter occurred, could tell her where all their remains were located, could show her surveillance holos of the entire incident, but she had no interest in learning more.
She didn’t need to see what had happened, didn’t want to see; the evidence spoke for itself.
Theo couldn’t imagine the fear the people aboard this vessel had felt in their final moments — trapped under so much water that they’d be crushed if they left the sub without specialized equipment, facing down human-octopus hybrids their own scientists had created. Human-octopus hybrids who were pissed off because of the way the IDC had treated them. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret what the IDC had done.
It was because of their actions that Vasil was here now. With her.
The path led ever deeper into the sub; they passed through the control room, where a body that must’ve belonged to the vessel’s former captain still sat in the command chair, though the skull had fallen away and now rested at the base of a nearby console.
After that room, things took on a surreal feel to Theo — just like the Facility, this place could easily have been mistaken for a space cruiser based on the appearance of its interior, but the immense sense of stillness here didn’t seem to belong in a living, breathing world.
After a couple more turns, they finally arrived at the maintenance access floor-hatch. Despite a groan of protest, it opened itself smoothly when she tugged the lever.
Vasil leaned forward to peer into the opening. “Seems tight.”
“They usually are,” Theo said. “The people who design these things cram as much into the maintenance tunnels as they can so most of the vital systems can be accessed through them. It’s just like in a space ship.”
The corners of his lips dipped as he lowered his torso to place the container on the floor near the opening. “I will go first. Pass me the container once I am down.”
“You don’t need to go.” Theo handed him her mask and removed her backpack, setting it on the floor. Turning her body, she grasped the handholds on the hatch lid and lowered her feet onto the uppermost ladder rungs. “Just hand me my tools when I get down and wait here. It shouldn’t take me too long to get the valve.”
Vasil’s brows fell low. “I will not leave you alone.”
She climbed down the ladder until she could comfortably grip the top rung. “Vasil, no one’s here but us. I’ll be fine.”
“Anything can go wrong, and if I am not there to—”
“This is what I do. What I’ve been trained to do.” She smiled and ran her fingers over his nearest tentacle. “Believe in my abilities.”
The tentacle flexed beneath her fingers as the tip curled back to brush over her knuckles.
“Call for me if anything goes wrong.” He twisted away from her, opened the container, and removed her toolbox.
Once she’d gone down the last few rungs and had her feet on the floor of the lower level, Vasil leaned forward and passed her toolbox to her.
He met her gaze and held it. “Be safe, Theodora.”
Theo blew him a kiss and grinned. “I will. Besides, you promised me sex later.”
Vasil grinned in response; his pointed teeth sent a thrill along her spine.
Stepping away from the ladder, Theo studied her surroundings. The tunnel was far more cramped than the corridors above, and many of the pipes, conduits, and ducts were fully exposed along the walls and ceiling. Even more were visible through the metal grating of the floor. The air was also noticeably warmer, pulsing with the familiar hum of machinery.
Kane’s path led her a few meters toward the front of the sub and into a narrow passage; she had to swing her toolbox behind her and twist her shoulders sideways to fit through. It opened on a room — not that she could truly call it a room, it was more just a space — filled with various machines and electronic components, including an air filtration and reclamation system similar to the unit in the Facility. The steady machine hum was more pronounced here, strong enough that she could almost feel it on her skin.
Her retinal display pinpointed the valve. Theo stopped in front of its location and set her toolbox on the floor nearby. She studied the plans, noting what she’d have to remove to reach the part, and crouched to open the toolbox.
“How long will the air last once I take this out?” she asked.
“Given the size of the vessel and the number of people currently aboard, I would estimate several hours of clean air,” Kane replied.
She dug through the tools to find what she needed. “Plenty of time. Could you tell Larkin and Dracchus to start removing the bodies now so we’re out of here as quickly as possible after I’m done? Guide her to the locations as efficiently as possible.”
“Yes. They will likely require some assistance in clearing the remains. They are rather…scattered.”
Theo plucked out her all-wrench, rose, and set to the bolts securing the unit’s cover plate. They gave a bit of resistance, but she hadn’t met a bolt yet that could hold out against Malcolm’s sturdy old all-wrench. It used a small energy field to clamp down on whatever needed to be fastened or unfastened, molding perfectly to every groove and crack.
Theo smiled to herself as she removed the final bolt; Malcolm used to say the all-wrench latched on to every damned atom.
Shifting her hold on the tool, she grasped the cover plate as it came loose and lowered it to the floor, leaning it against the base of the unit. The sound of whirring machinery was immediately louder. Kane provided readouts on every part within her field of view, but she paid no further attention to the information; if nothing else, she’d always had a firm grasp of what the parts of most machines did, and her few glimpses of the plans had been more than enough to decipher these.
“All right, Kane. Shut her down.”
The filtration system stalled abruptly. It released a prolonged hiss — layered over a deep groan — and went silent, leaving only that old hum to fill the void.
She reached into the opening, flicked the valve’s manual release switch, and watched the fill-level indicator for the tank above it. Once it showed empty, she crouched to retrieve another tool and set about removing the valve. Even with her advanced tools and their supposedly atomic-level grip and amped-up torque, she had to throw all her strength against both connectors for several seconds to get them to loosen. She froze the instant they moved, her heart thumping and breath suddenly ragged; the enormity of what she was doing crashed down upon her in that instant.
This wasn’t about swapping a part, it was about saving the place Vasil’s people called home. Too much pressure either while removing or installing the part could cause enough damage to prevent a good seal, which would hasten the deterioration of the system and render all this effort pointless.
This is what I do. Even on that ship, my job was keeping people safe — half the parts I touched could’ve affected critical systems. This is no different.
“Good news is I don’t think that would’ve ever come apart on its own,” she muttered.
“It is a vital component if you want living humans aboard,” Kane said. “The IDC standards have always been high for such systems, even hundreds of years ago.”
“Living humans? Don’t you think that’s a bit insensitive to our hosts, Kane?”
Theo gently loosened the connectors the rest of the way. Once they were unfastened, the individual pieces shifted freely. She put her tools away and pushed the connectors down, creating enough leeway to lift the valve out of place. The sensor array built into its side, though no larger than her thumb, was the difference between life and death for the people living in the Facility.
Bending down, she opened
the small case built into her toolbox’s top tray and laid the valve on the foam padding within. Once the case was closed, she picked up the all-wrench, turned back to the air unit, and replaced the cover plate — she knew there was no reason for it, but it was a habit she’d likely never shake.
“There is one more thing,” Kane said.
Theo furrowed her brow as she closed her toolbox. “What? I thought this was all we needed.”
An indicator in her retinal display turned her attention back toward the front of the sub. The overlay indicated another room ten meters away, this one filled primarily with electronic components.
“What do we need in there?” she asked.
“It’s not something we need, but… I am compelled to mention it due to IDC coding.” He highlighted a part inside the other room and expanded its image.
Theo’s heart skipped a beat when she scanned the part’s readout. “No way.”
“Yes way,” Kane replied. “That’s a class A transmitter, capable of sending deep-space communications. It just needs an antenna.”
“And we could totally build one. We just need the material.”
“Which seems to be laying around this world in abundance.”
Theo picked up her toolbox and returned to the maintenance tunnel, following it until she reached the entrance to the electronics room. She removed the transmitter with the same care she’d taken with the valve, though it was a bit more difficult — she had to stand on her toolbox to reach it, and it was a bit larger and heavier. She carefully rearranged her tools and settled the transmitter amongst them on the toolbox’s top tray.
Before she closed the toolbox, she paused and looked at the part. While she was removing it, she hadn’t even paused to think of the ramifications it could have, hadn’t considered what she could lose if she built an antenna and managed to transmit a message. Her working mind had taken over — the part of her that recognized a challenge and was eager to tackle it. The inability to communicate with the IDC had been the first major problem she’d faced upon waking on Halora, and the thought of finally solving it had swept everything else away.
She’d not allowed her heart to weigh in on the matter. Frowning, she closed and latched the toolbox’s lid.
Just in case, she thought.
When she returned to the open hatch, she looked up to find Vasil there, his eyes fixing on her immediately.
“Got it,” she said, smiling and lifting the toolbox up to him.
The box seemed even heavier than the two parts she’d taken should’ve made it — the weight of her guilt, perhaps. None of the kraken would know what the transmitter was, what it was used for, but Theo knew. That felt like a betrayal of both Vasil and his people.
He took the toolbox and turned away, clearing the hatch for a moment before reappearing with his hands free. He watched intently as she climbed the ladder, offering a hand as she neared the top. Once she cleared the opening, he pulled her into his arms, coiling a tentacle around her leg.
“You’d think you missed me or something,” she said, burying her face against his chest.
“Only a little,” he said, his smile evident in his tone. His hold on her tightened. “I do not like the feel of this place.”
Theo gently pulled away from him and met his gaze. “Yeah, it doesn’t have the best vibes, does it?” She scooped her pack off the floor and slung it over her shoulders. “We’re operating on borrowed time now, so we’d best help Larkin and Dracchus gather the remains and take them out to sea.”
The concept wasn’t as strange to her as it might once have been; for a long time, the IDC had held to the tradition of burying the dead in space; they’d launch the fallen into the stars to drift forever. It was kind of…peaceful.
Vasil nodded, picked up the toolbox, and placed it inside the waterproof container. A twinge of guilt shot through Theo’s chest; he wouldn’t think twice about the difference in the toolbox’s weight, but she knew.
He sealed the container and lifted into his arms, extending a tentacle to pass Theo her diving mask. “I will follow your lead.”
Though he was only talking about following her out of this place, she sensed deeper meaning to his words — they were rich with trust.
And she couldn’t help but wonder if she was breaking it.
Chapter 18
Theo replaced the air filtration unit’s cover plate and fastened its bolts. “Done!”
“They’re going to love you at The Watch,” Larkin said. She stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest and red hair hanging over her shoulder in a single braid. Her blue jumpsuit and thick belt — upon which were clipped a pistol and a knife — spoke of a woman ready to handle business.
Over the past few days, Theo had grown close to Larkin — it hadn’t been hard to do. There were only so many places to go in the Facility, and the place was quiet and lonely when the males were out hunting, as they were now. Though Larkin usually went with the others to hunt, she’d chosen to stay behind and keep Theo company. She’d even proven to be a reliable and competent assistant, helping Theo manually seal the lines and ducts leading into the flooded portions of the Facility to prevent the possibility of further leakage into the air system. It had been two days of hard work — much of it under water — but the sense of accomplishment now that it was all done was worth the effort.
“It’ll be nice to have a place,” Theo said, returning her tools to the toolbox and shutting the lid.
Larkin had explained that everyone in the Watch had a job, a purpose, and they performed those jobs to keep their community afloat. Theo’s jaw had nearly hit the floor when she realized there was no currency there — hell, Larkin hadn’t even known the word money until Theo told her about it. The universe Theo knew revolved around the spending and accumulation of money.
The way Halora worked was more alien to Theo than the kraken. The idea that hard work and cooperation were enough to guarantee a place to live, food, clothing, all the necessities, might’ve been laughed at anywhere else. But here…so long as you did your part, so long as you supported your neighbors, you didn’t have to worry about the dwindling credits in your account or whether your landlord would evict you for not paying rent.
“You have a place,” came a familiar voice from the doorway, sending pleasurable chills down her spine. “Your place is with me, female.”
A wide smile stretched across Theo’s lips as she turned to find Vasil, skin glistening with seawater, in the doorway. “You’re back!”
Vasil moved into the room and swept Theo into an embrace that lifted her off her feet. She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. His fingers flexed against her backside as he held her close, deepening the kiss. Though he’d only been gone since early that morning — perhaps eight hours — she’d missed his closeness, his warmth, his touch, and the heat in his eyes when he looked at her. Even now, though her clothing was wet from the water clinging to his body, she burned inside and craved more of him.
Only after Vasil set her back down did she notice Dracchus had accompanied him; the big kraken had Larkin pressed up against the wall, locked in a kiss as passionate as the one Vasil and Theo had just shared.
“I guess you kraken males are always happy to see your mates, huh?” Theo asked, tilting her head back to grin up at Vasil.
Larkin laughed, giving Dracchus a playful shove away. “You have no idea.”
Dracchus growled, dropped his hands to her hips, and attempted to draw her closer, but she flattened her palms on his chest and locked her elbows.
“Behave. Wait until we’re in our room,” Larkin said. “Then you can have me all to yourself.”
He grunted and lowered his hands, but the fiery gleam in his eyes did not diminish.
Vasil cupped Theo’s face and lowered his head to press his forehead against hers. “You have given me something worth coming home to.”
A warm, tingling sensation spread outward from Theo’s chest. She sm
iled, cupped the back of his head, and closed her eyes. Home. She hadn’t realized just how much weight, how much meaning, that word could hold until Vasil became part of her life. Old Earth had never been her home, nor had the ships she’d lived on for so many years. Her home was with Vasil. He was where she belonged.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered, opening her eyes.
His nostrils flared with a slow, deep inhalation, and he simply held her for several seconds. “How are your repairs progressing?”
“All done for now,” she said.
“The air cleaner is fixed?” Dracchus asked. “Our people are safe?”
“Yep. Good as new. Well, as good as it can get. But…it’s not gonna forever. You know that, right?”
“We have always known. Our people will adapt as necessary. But you have made our home safe for a little longer, and for that I am grateful.”
“You have done well,” Vasil said, calling Theo’s attention back to him. He leaned closer to her again, simultaneously drawing her pelvis against his. “And now I wish to have my mate all to myself. Come, female.”
“Don’t bother saying it. I’ll deactivate myself, thank you,” Kane muttered in her mind.
Theo chuckled, shaking gently against Vasil.
Vasil groaned, tightening his hold on her and pressing the hard bump of his slit against her belly. “I will not wait any longer.”
Before she could respond, he lifted Theo off the floor and settled her over his shoulder, clamping his arm around the back of her thighs with one hand on her ass as he ducked through the doorway.
“Vasil!” she half-screeched, half-laughed, her palms flat against his back.
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