Down

by Ally Blue

  “What can I say? I’m a softy.”

  “I think it’s lovely.” Moved by a sudden surge of desire, Armin slid over to make room and patted the mattress. “Come here.”

  The way Mo’s lips curved told Armin their minds were on the same track. Mo rose, crossed the room in a few strides and lowered himself to the bed.

  Armin woke an undetermined time later in the dim glow of the light Mo liked to keep on even while sleeping. At first he couldn’t figure out what had woken him. Then the sound came again—a solid thud, thud, thud on the door.

  He sat up. Mo stood beside the bed, pulling on the trousers he’d discarded when they’d undressed earlier. “Mo? What’s going on? Who could be out there?”

  “Don’t know. I’m gonna find out.” Mo sidled up the door. “Auto-port.”

  “Yes, Mo?”

  “Identify the person outside the door.”

  “Checking.” The light blinked once. Twice. Three times. “Unable to identify. I am sorry, Mo. Shall I activate the camera?”

  Mo glanced wide-eyed at Armin. “Yes.”

  “Very well. Activating.”

  The auto-port visual screen came on. At first, Armin only saw a silhouette. The light in the hall was dimmer than it ought to be, even on the night shift. Then the figure leaned closer to the port’s outside screen, and Armin let out a surprised oh. Mo jumped back with a curse.

  On the monitor, Ryal Nataki’s eyes glowed purple-black in a dead gray face. The dull light glinted off a grin full of long, pointed teeth.

  Mo stared, shocked. “Armin? Does he look . . . different? To you?”

  “Different as in glowing eyes and pointed teeth?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In that case, yes.” Relief shone through his words bright as the sun Mo barely remembered anymore. Armin stood, still naked, moved to Mo’s side, and took his hand in a cold, hard grip. “The fact that we’re both seeing it could be a good thing, or a bad thing, you know.”

  Mo snorted. “The way I figure, it could be a bad thing, or a worse thing, but I get what you’re saying.”

  Before Mo could stop him, Armin thumbed the manual intercom activation. “Ryal. This is Armin Savage-Hall. You’re very ill. You really ought to go back to the medical bay.”

  Ryal chortled. The low, gurgling sound raised gooseflesh all over Mo’s body. “Oh, I don’t think so, Doctor. Way too much fun-fun-fun to be had out here in the candy factory.” He peered sideways with one glittering purple-black eye, like he was trying to look through a peephole. “You there, Mo? I know you are.” He licked the auto-port screen. His tongue was long and thin, too thin, deep midnight blue like an exotic sea slug. “Mmmmm. I can tassssste you.”

  Mo shuddered all over. Fighting the brew of revulsion and sadness burning his throat, he edged closer to the port. “Ryal, listen to me. Armin’s right. You’re sick. You’ve caught some kind of infection. You need to get back to the med bay and let Doc Palto help you.”

  The disturbingly non-Ryal-like chuckle came again. “Help? Why would I want any help, even if anyone in this ridiculous tin can had any to give?” Ryal lifted his hands, flexed fingers grown too skinny, bending in all the wrong ways—just like Hannah’s—and stared directly into the camera as if he could see straight through to the men on the other side. “I don’t need help. I’m becoming so much more than I’d ever dreamed possible.” He leaned so close all Mo could see was one eye empty as space, with a purple spark in the middle forming into a shape he almost recognized. “Don’t worry, friends. You’ll find out.”

  He pushed away from the door so fast Mo saw nothing but a blur of speed. But the shape Ryal’s body imprinted on Mo’s brain as he sprinted down the corridor was as wrong as his face.

  Mo plopped onto the bed, mind and heart both careening out of control. “What the hell just happened?”

  “Obviously Ryal has gotten out of isolation somehow.” Armin crossed the room and bent to dig through the pile of clothes on the floor.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know. We can discuss the implications in a moment. Right now we need to contact the medical bay.”

  “They probably already know he’s—” Then Mo understood. He shut up and lunged for his dresser.

  While he pulled on the first shirt he put his hands on, Armin finally found his com in the mound of discarded clothes, strapped it onto his wrist, and activated it. “Dr. Savage-Hall calling any personnel in the medical bay. Urgent.”

  No answer. Mo and Armin exchanged an apprehensive glance. “Any personnel in the medical bay,” Armin repeated, pulling on his pants as he talked. “Please come in. This is an extremely urgent medical matter.”

  The silence from the bay stretched on. Armin and Mo were both dressed in a matter of seconds, but that was more than enough to convince Mo that Ryal hadn’t gotten away using the power of words.

  They left Mo’s quarters and headed for the med bay without discussing it. Mo wasn’t exactly sure what they could do, but he wasn’t telling Armin that. He didn’t think he could stand to sit in his room twiddling his thumbs while something bad was probably happening in the med bay.

  “Dr. Savage-Hall calling Dr. Palto.” Armin kept his voice low and his gaze moving, like he was afraid of attracting attention. Not that Mo blamed him, under the circumstances. “Come in. This is extremely urgent.”

  Nothing.

  Scared now, Mo broke into a jog, Armin hot on his heels.

  They’d almost reached the med bay when Armin’s com came to life. “Armin, this is Gerald Palto. Sorry, I was in the middle of an emergency call. What’s going on?”

  Relief turned Mo’s legs to rubber. He sagged against the wall, laughing.

  Armin rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Damn it, Palto, you scared me.”

  “Uh. Sorry?” The doctor sounded confused.

  Armin shook his head. “Listen. Ryal Nataki got out of isolation. He’s on the loose.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. He came to Mo’s quarters and spoke to us through the auto-port. He’s . . .” Armin stared down the hallway, as if he were looking for the right words at the end of it. “I believe he may be very dangerous.”

  “Goddamn it. Hang on.” From the other end of the connection, Mo heard Palto calling instructions to someone. “Please tell me you’re still in Mo’s room.”

  Armin shot a guilty look at Mo, who rolled his eyes. “Not exactly, no.”

  “We’re just outside the med bay,” Mo broke in. “Armin called in there first thing, but no one answered.”

  “Someone might be hurt.” Armin cast Mo a stern glare. “We’re going in.”

  Palto sighed. “Can I talk you out of it?”

  “No.”

  Mo opened his com link. “Someone should start looking for Ryal. I’ll com Gordon.”

  Armin shot him a questioning look. “Our part-time security guy,” Mo explained. “We don’t need a full-time staff or anything. Or, well, we never did before. Gordon’s sort of on call just in case. His main job is communications.”

  “Do that. We need to find Ryal as soon as possible.” A woman said something in the background of wherever Dr. Palto was. He answered her with what sounded like a drug name and dosage. “Tell Gordon to treat him as a patient, not a criminal, all right? Now I need to get back to my own patient. Speaking of, please call me back ASAP and let me know if the med bay is safe or not. I need to get—ah, this patient there as soon as humanly possible. He’s stable, but I need him in the bay to keep him that way.”

  Something about the way Palto stumbled tripped Mo’s alarms. He glanced at Armin. Dread gathered in every line and shadow of his face.

  “Gerald.” Armin’s voice was low and measured. “Who is your patient?”

  A heartbeat of quiet followed, and Mo knew the answer wasn’t anything they’d want to hear. Armin shut his eyes.

  “I’ll tell you later.” Dr. Palto’s gentle answer wasn’t reassuring. Mo laid a hand on Armin’s shoulde
r. “Please be careful.”

  Mo answered when Armin didn’t. “We will. Out.”

  Armin opened his eyes. His jaw took on the stubborn set Mo had already learned meant don’t fuck with me. “Call your security person, Mo. I’m going in.”

  Mo snagged his wrist before he could move. “Me first.”

  Armin’s dark eyes flashed. He shook loose of Mo’s grip. “Why?”

  “Because you’re the doctor. I’m just the muscle.” Mo answered Armin’s stunned stare with his most disarming smile. “Besides, I’m a damn good fighter. And I’m armed.” Reaching into the side pocket of his pants, he pulled out the switchblade he absolutely, positively was not supposed to have. “Face it, Doc. We don’t know who or what’s in there. We both have a better chance of not getting hurt if me and my weapon go in first.”

  Shaking his head, Armin lifted the wrist with his com link. “Dr. Savage-Hall to security. Urgent.”

  A short silence followed before Gordon picked up. “This is Gordon. You got a security issue? For real?”

  “Yes.” Armin shot Mo a wide-eyed glance. “Ryal Nataki was in medical isolation, but he’s broken out. Mr. Rees and I are about to enter the med bay. We need you to find Mr. Nataki.” Armin’s eyebrows drew together. “He may be dangerous, so please be cautious, but he is also a patient in need of help. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Gordon paused. “Maybe I ought to come over there to the med bay first and go in with you and Mo. Make sure it’s safe in there.”

  “Thank you, but I believe it’s far more urgent to find Mr. Nataki.”

  “Okay, then. I’m on it. Out.”

  “Thank you. Out.” Armin lifted his determined gaze to Mo. “Are you ready?”

  Mo’s lips curled into a grim smile. “Let’s go.” He pressed his thumb to the access panel at the bottom of the auto-port screen. The med bay door opened.

  Armin hung back when Mo gestured to him to wait. Mo eased into the bay, his back to the wall and his knife in the loose fighting grip his oldest sister had taught him ages ago. Sometimes, during the fire-lit Dubai nights when they’d thought the lights would never come back on, they’d needed the silence of a weapon that wasn’t a gun.

  He saw Tomás’s face first. Bluish. One eyelid at half-mast, the other closed, his mouth open.

  Mo knelt to check for a pulse, though he knew he wouldn’t find one. He’d seen enough corpses to recognize the slackness unique to the faces of the newly dead.

  Sure enough, the man had no heartbeat and no breathing. He hadn’t been dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in, but his face was chalky, and when Mo leaned down to look, lividity had begun to stretch the length of his neck.

  The parts that weren’t bruised purple and black, that was. The bruises wrapped around his throat, ringing the spot where his trachea seemed abnormally flat.

  Christ. He’d been strangled. Recently, by someone strong enough to crush incredibly tough rings of cartilage like it was easy.

  Normally, that would in no way describe Ryal Nataki. Or anyone else here, for that matter. But since break-ins didn’t happen at seven thousand meters, it had to be someone in this pod. Which was pretty fucking terrifying, for lots of reasons.

  Rising to his feet, Mo glanced around. The bay was empty other than the dead medic. He went back to the door. “C’mon in, Doc. I don’t think we can do much here except try to figure out what happened.”

  Armin glanced at the dead man, then back up to Mo, a question in his eyes.

  Mo shook his head. “No pulse, no breathing. But it’s been too long to try reviving him.”

  “You’re right.” Armin eyed the man’s crushed throat. “I hate to believe that Ryal killed him, but it seems likely. I think we have to consider him a danger to everyone on this pod.”

  Sorrow for his friend coiled tight in Mo’s chest. Ryal had always been such a warm, happy, generous person. He’d give his last penny to a stranger in need. How could he possibly become this dangerous—even deadly—reverse image of himself?

  Overcome by a sudden surge of fear, Mo moved closer to Armin. “What the hell’s happening here? How did everything get so crazy?”

  Compassion and concern filled Armin’s black eyes. He cupped Mo’s face in his hands. “I wish I knew. But we’re going to do our best to stop it. All right? And if there’s any way at all to help Ryal, we’re going to do it. Him and Hannah. I don’t want—”

  He stopped, teeth snapping together with an audible clack. But Mo heard what he hadn’t said.

  “I know, Doc.” He smoothed Armin’s hair away from his face. Kissed his brow, where the worry lines gathered. “I don’t want anyone else to die either.”

  A faint half smile tilted one corner of Armin’s mouth. “Exactly.”

  They stood there for a few seconds that felt like lifetimes to Mo, hands on one another’s faces, gazing into each other’s eyes. Mo felt like he was falling. Like he’d found the secrets to life itself and couldn’t look away.

  This is how it is when someone understands you. He traced his thumb around the shell of Armin’s ear.

  Armin blinked, visibly pulled himself out of his thoughts, dropped his hands from Mo’s face, and stepped back. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to check on Ashlyn. She should be safe, but she must be terrified.”

  Mo nodded, shoving his hands in his back pockets to hide how they shook. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Armin crossed the bay to the iso room in the far corner. The inside curtain was drawn shut. He rapped on the GlasSteel wall beside the door. “Ashlyn? It’s me, Armin. Are you all right?”

  No answer. Armin frowned over his shoulder at Mo, who strode up to stand beside him. “Ashlyn?” Armin called, louder this time. “Are you all right?” He knocked on the door. It swung open.

  Armin sucked in a startled breath. Before he could move a muscle, Mo pushed him aside and went through the door.

  The little room was empty.

  Alarm and intrigue pushed Mo’s pulse into a gallop. He let Armin in, and they stared at each other. “How in the hell did she get anywhere?” Mo wondered. “Do you think Ryal . . .?”

  He couldn’t finish the sentence, as if saying it out loud would make it true. Armin sighed. “A few hours ago, I would’ve said there was no way in the world Ryal would harm anyone. Now? I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”

  Mo didn’t answer. What could he say? He was as adrift as Armin—more—when it came to figuring out what the hell was happening here.

  In his heart of hearts, he found the whole business exciting. Which was wrong, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. The mystery lured him. Whispered to the dark part of him that longed for new experiences, sights no one else had seen, secrets previously unrevealed.

  That wasn’t such a bad thing, he mused, rubbing his chin and gazing into the empty room. His desire for information could help them learn about whatever had taken hold of BathyTech 3. That could only be good.

  Right?

  “Armin, are you there?”

  Palto’s voice through Armin’s communicator made them both jump. Armin blew out a breath and lifted his wrist. “I’m here. The med bay is safe. Ryal and Ashlyn are both missing, though, and Tomás is dead. At this time, Ryal is considered to be dangerous. So please be careful.”

  “Jesus H.” Palto said something to someone on his end. “We’ll be there in about ten seconds. Everybody stay out of our way. This patient is no longer stable, and we’re going to need to get to the crash cart.”

  Armin and Mo looked at one another. They both ran out of the iso room at the same time. Armin made sure the crash cart was accessible while Mo opened the third iso room. Maybe they needed it and maybe they didn’t, but there was no harm in having it ready.

  The med bay doors opened. Dr. Palto and Misha burst in at a run, both in full iso gear, a hover stretcher floating between them. Palto held an IV bag dripping into their patient’s arm, while Misha squeezed a blue plastic bag at
tached to a stiff tube sticking out of the man’s mouth. Mo knew just enough about emergency medicine to know the other end of the tube was in the man’s trachea, and Misha was squeezing air into his lungs to breathe for him.

  The man looked so unlike himself, it took Mo a few seconds to recognize Neil Douglas.

  Armin saw at the same time Mo did. “Oh my God.” He rushed over and followed the stretcher into the isolation room. Mo followed, pushing the crash cart. “What happened?”

  “As far as I can tell, he’s had a stroke.” Dr. Palto connected the stretcher to the bed in the iso room. The stretcher’s transfer function lifted Dr. Douglas gently onto the bed. Palto connected the breathing tube to the built-in ventilator and began inputting the settings. “Misha, start the scans and the necessary blood tests.” While Misha began inputting settings into the room’s computer terminal, Palto glanced at Mo and Armin. “Each room has basic scanning ability. We need to know if we’re dealing with an ischemic or hemorrhagic event so we’ll know how to treat it.”

  Armin nodded. “Of course. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not here, no.” Palto shot him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll update you when we know something, though.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Armin’s forehead furrowed. “I think I should find Mandala and the two of us should get back to work immediately on the object from Richards Deep. Whatever’s happening here, I believe it may be related to that thing, so the faster we can work out what exactly it is, where it comes from, and what—if any—life-forms it harbors, the better.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Palto studied the readouts on the panel above Dr. Douglas’s head. “I’m going to get back to the autopsies once Neil’s stabilized. Misha can look after him.”

  “All right. Thank you.” Armin turned his gaze to Mo. “Well. I’ll call you when I’m ready to go back to your quarters, all right?”

  “Sure, Doc. Good luck.” Mo waved and grinned as Armin left, though he wasn’t feeling it. He didn’t much want to be left out, and he wanted Armin out of his sight even less. Worry twisted cold and tight in his stomach.

  An idea hit him as the door shut behind Armin, and he jumped on it. He thumbed on his communicator. “Maximo Rees to Chaz Gordon.”