by Ally Blue
Despair closed its icy fist around Armin’s chest. He rested his forehead in one hand. “What could have happened to her?”
“Well, she has to be someplace.” Mo hesitated a second. “Gordon checked the vidfeeds from the moon pool and from outside the pod. He didn’t see her on those. I know there aren’t many places left to look, but we might still find her. In any case, we know she hasn’t left the pod. So that’s something, right?”
“Definitely.” It was huge, in fact. Armin hadn’t realized until now how worried he’d been that Ashlyn had gone off into the deep like Carlo. Like Klaudia Longenesse. “Com me when you’re finished, all right? I don’t want you walking the halls alone. Either wait for me in the med bay or have someone else walk with you back to your quarters.”
Mo laughed. “You can’t be serious.”
“Yes, I am. It’s quite likely there are people here who’ve been infected but haven’t been isolated. If those people develop psychosis, they’ll be dangerous.”
“Don’t worry about me, Doc. I can take care of myself.”
The cold certainty in Mo’s voice reminded Armin how little he knew about the man with whom he currently shared a bed. He rubbed at the sharp pain boring into his temple. “Humor me. Please.”
“Jesus Christ.” Low conversation came over the com, along with female laughter. “Okay, look, I’ll com you when we’re done with our sweep, but I’m not waiting around the med bay, and I’m sure as shit not getting anyone else to walk me to my own fucking room.”
Irritation and worry churned up a toxic brew in Armin’s stomach. He swiveled his chair to avoid Mandala’s curious look. “Mo—”
“I’ll meet you at The Beach, all right?” The cutting edge had melted from Mo’s tone. Armin could almost see the soft, pleading light in his eyes. “I know everybody’s confined to quarters, but Gordon and Tsali will be heading there to talk about what’s going on and form a plan for dealing with it. I’m sure they’ll want to bring in some other ad hoc security people. So there’ll be other people there. Uninfected people. I’ll tag along and wait for you there. I won’t get too close, in case Ryal or Hannah exposed me. I can even put on iso gear if you think I should.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper that dragged along Armin’s senses like a physical touch. “I don’t want to be alone, Doc. I’ll fucking lose it if I have to be alone in my quarters right now.”
What could he say? Armin let his lips brush the com link on his wrist, remembering the last time he kissed the sex-sweat from the curve of Mo’s back. “All right. Let me know when you’re going, and I’ll meet you there. And, Mo, I’m sorry. About Ryal.”
On the other side of the com link, Mo drew a faint, hitching breath. “Thanks. Out.”
The link cut. Armin felt Mandala’s stare on the back of his head. Don’t ask, he thought at her. She’d never been one to intrude into anyone’s personal life, but she wouldn’t hesitate if she thought it affected the work. And Armin couldn’t honestly say his desire to protect Mo wasn’t affecting his work.
He was saved from whatever Mandala might have said by the chime of the ChemScan announcing the end of its second run. He turned his attention back to the sample. “Computer. Display scan results on 3-D.”
“Anything you say, Doctor.”
Armin swallowed the shock clawing its way up his throat. The lab computer didn’t say such things. Especially not in a suggestive growl of a voice. He’d changed the settings himself because he preferred machines that did as they were told without talking about it. The stress of the last day or so must be getting to him.
But could he truly blame stress for what he’d just heard, knowing what he knew?
On the other hand, he didn’t believe he’d shown any real signs of psychosis. Mandala would march him straight off to isolation the moment he did. Nor had he developed the physical changes Hannah and Ryal had. So where did that leave him?
Frightened. Confused. Wondering.
He rubbed the back of his neck, where tension had knotted the muscles tight. If only they’d thought to ask Ryal, Hannah, and Ashlyn if they’d experienced visual or auditory hallucinations prior to the manifestation of their other symptoms. Of course, Armin suspected they wouldn’t have gotten a straight answer out of any of them.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Armin. What did you do?”
Startled, Armin swiveled to face Mandala. Her expression reflected the irritation in her voice. Armin frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Take a look at the readout.” Mandala crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and pinned him with an I’m waiting stare.
He looked, and his mouth fell open. If he hadn’t been sitting right next to the ChemScan this whole time, he would’ve sworn the sample inside had been switched out, because everything was different.
“I didn’t do anything. I programmed it to scan again using the same parameters as the last time.” Armin stood, his knees shaking, and circled the holo. “I don’t understand. How is this possible?”
“Well, clearly it isn’t possible for the sample to change its entire chemical makeup between one scan and the next. So, it has to be a malfunction in the machine.” Mandala rose and crossed the lab to stand beside Armin. She studied the display with a steady, penetrating stare for a while. “It’s interesting that the carbon and silicon are still there in almost the same percentages as before, and that nitrogen and oxygen are still present, but in larger amounts.”
“The other trace elements have nearly been swallowed up in the unknown substances.” Armin shook his head, as if he could physically shake the scattered puzzle pieces into place. “It doesn’t make any sense. My equations didn’t predict this.”
“I know.” Mandala planted both hands on her lower back and stretched. “That being the case, I think we ought to rule out equipment malfunction before we take the testing any further.”
Armin nodded. “Agreed.”
“I’ll run the diagnostics. You go on to The Beach and talk to Mo.”
“It won’t take that long. I can help, and—”
“Armin. Stop.” She brushed her fingers across his arm. “I appreciate it, but you know as well as I do that troubleshooting a ChemScan is a one-person job. I use this type of equipment every day. I’m much better qualified for this than you are. Also, he’s going to be comming you soon, so you might as well go now.”
He’d worked with her long enough to know when she was keeping something to herself. Usually he wouldn’t stand for it. In this case, however, he rather appreciated not having to hear how she didn’t fully trust the things he saw and heard. Particularly since he no longer trusted himself.
Maybe she’d figure out how to fix this disaster while he was at the bar with Mo.
He forced a smile. “You’re right, of course. I’ll go. Com me if you need me, all right?”
“Of course.” She grasped his hand. Her grip was strong and sure, and it made him feel better. “We’ll figure this out.”
He wasn’t so sure, but he nodded anyway. She let go and went back to the equipment. Armin headed out into the hall.
He activated his com link as he turned the corner. “Dr. Savage-Hall calling Maximo Rees.”
Mo answered after a few long seconds of silence. “Mo here. What’s up, Doc?”
Armin laughed, remembering the classic cartoon with the wisecracking rabbit. “We’ve had some problems with the lab equipment. Mandala kicked me out while she’s running diagnostics, so I’m on my way to The Beach right now. I should be there when you arrive.”
“Oh. Okay, good. We’re almost done, so it won’t be long.” Mo paused. “We haven’t found Dr. Timms yet.”
Fear and worry dug harder into Armin’s insides. He’d never felt so helpless. “Well. We can only keep trying. Like you said, she has to be here somewhere.”
“Yeah.” Another pause. “Is someone walking with you to The Beach?”
Uh-oh. Armin sucked on his bottom lip. “Well—”
Another voice on Mo’
s end interrupted him. “Hang on a sec, Doc.”
Muted conversation drifted through the com, while Armin’s shoulders sagged in relief. He didn’t want to lie to Mo, but he didn’t much want to tell the truth either. He walked faster. The quicker he could reach the bar, the better.
He was nearly there when Mo came back on. “Sorry about that. There was a report of noises in the visitor’s lounge, but it wasn’t her.” He let out a derisive snort. “Some asshole was raiding the bar there for liquor, can you believe it?”
“I’ll believe almost anything people do.”
“Point.”
A door opened to Armin’s right as he passed. A young woman strode out, squealed in surprise when she almost ran into him, and edged past. It wasn’t Ashlyn. Since she seemed fine other than being startled, he swallowed his heart back down and ignored her. “Any signs of psychosis?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t there. But it didn’t sound like it.” Mo’s voice dropped low. “Did something happen? You sound a little shaky.”
“No. I’m fine. Just thinking about what Mandala and I have found so far in the lab. It’s very strange.” He tried to think of a way to describe it over the com link and couldn’t. “I’ll tell you about it when you get to the bar.”
“Okay.” Mo’s worry and doubt came through quite clearly in those two syllables. “I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“I’ll be waiting. Out.”
He cut the link and hurried on. The sense of some alien presence breathing down his neck had him walking as fast as he could without running.
It couldn’t have taken him more than three or four minutes to reach the bar, but it felt like hours. Tension, he told himself. With all that had happened here in such a short time, it was no wonder every minute seemed stretched and twisted. He pushed open the old-fashioned swinging doors with relief.
And stopped just inside, flummoxed. He’d expected to find the place either empty, or occupied by only a few people discussing the current situation over coffee or perhaps a beer at one of the big tables in the middle of the floor. He’d expected the lights to be on and the music off.
He hadn’t for one second thought he’d find the bar in near-complete darkness broken only by a ball of soft-colored lights overhead, flashing a dim rainbow over the wall-to-wall crush of people dancing. Though the way they moved looked more like simulated sex. Men and women in various stages of undress writhed to the primal rhythm pounding through the room like a pulse. Armin’s heartbeat quickened, his breath coming faster in spite of himself. He wished Mo would get here.
As if summoned by his thought, Mo emerged from the throng, shirtless, chest and face gleaming with perspiration. His lips curved into a wicked smile. He stretched out a hand. Armin took it and let Mo pull him close.
He wanted to ask how Mo had gotten here first. He wanted to ask what all these people were doing here, why they were dancing as though this was an upside city sex club instead of a makeshift bar seven thousand meters down, on a mineral mining rig where everything was falling apart bit by bit. But Mo’s hands were warm on his back through the fabric of his shirt, Mo’s cheek rough with stubble against his, and the words caught in his throat. Mo started to move, his body undulating to the drumbeat, the sexual roll of his hips pushing his erection into Armin’s groin, and Armin’s fears melted like snow in a fire.
The thump and throb of the music carried them into the pulsing heart of the crowd. The air was hot and damp, musky with sweat and sex. Sighs and moans created a drifting, sensual counterpart to the relentless beat that Armin felt right down to his bones. The vibration urged him into motion, and he swayed, Mo’s palms cupping his ass and Mo’s breath warm on his neck. Mo’s body molded to his was a gravitational force, tugging his hips side to side in an achingly slow grind.
When Mo shifted position to kiss him, hard and deep and hungry, Armin thought he might come in his pants like a virgin boy. He let the sensation flow through him without sticking. It was surprisingly easy. The whole thing felt surreal. Dreamlike. The scientist in him—the part that never switched off—wondered how much of it was real, and how much was mental candy floss spun by the usurper he’d begun to suspect had taken up residence in his brain.
The idea was enough to pull him away from Mo’s kiss so he could look into those drowning-dark eyes. “Mo. We need to get out of this room.”
Mo didn’t ask questions. Didn’t say a word, in fact, which did nothing to dispel Armin’s unease. Instead he flashed the same sinful smile as before, took Armin’s hand, and led him through the crush of people to the exit.
The hallway was silent and empty. The flickering lights threw bizarre shadows on the walls. Impossible shapes wriggled at the edge of Armin’s vision and vanished around the corners before he could catch them.
I see you, he told the invader lurking in his synapses. I know what you’re doing. I know this isn’t real. You won’t catch me that way. And I won’t let you have anyone else.
If it heard him, it showed no sign. Armin couldn’t tell whether that meant he’d won or lost. In any case, he had no choice but to soldier on as best he could. He lifted his chin, kept his face forward, and followed Mo through the haunted house BathyTech 3 had become.
He was relieved when Mo brought him to the aquarium. The quiet here was normal. Peaceful. The monochrome dimness eased Armin’s anxiety. He could think clearly here. Let his guard down, if only for a moment. This time, he was the one who drew Mo into his arms and kissed him.
Mo opened for him, both arms snaking around his waist to hold him close. The only sounds were their quick, harsh breaths and the wet slide of their mouths together. God, it felt good. Armin shut his eyes and let the taste of Mo’s tongue erase everything else.
When Mo took him to the ground, Armin went eagerly. He knew they had things they needed to talk about, but his mind skimmed over the memory’s surface and veered away. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Didn’t want to think about the things that had happened, or might happen. Right now, all he wanted was Mo inside him, pounding away the grief and horror and sickening, paralyzing fear.
Undressing happened in watercolor flashes, blurry disconnected moments of fumbling hands and swift, hard kisses, ending with the two of them tangled naked on the cool polycrete floor. Armin wound a leg around Mo’s hips, bit his neck, and arched up against him, into his solid human heat. Mo moaned, and Armin worked the flesh between his teeth with his tongue to draw out more of those low, sweet noises that made Mo’s throat vibrate against his lips.
Mo tore away, leaving red marks on his skin where Armin’s teeth had been. He stared at Armin with a dark fire in his eyes. “Turn over.”
Armin rolled onto his belly. His heart galloped and his head swam, and he couldn’t decide whether the tightness making his breath come short was desire or apprehension.
Mo had lifted Armin’s hips and pushed his knees apart before he realized Mo’s growled order was the first time he’d spoken since they’d met in the bar. But he didn’t have a chance to wonder about that, or about the unusually raspy tone of Mo’s voice, because Mo was holding him open and pushing relentlessly inside, his cock slicked by something thin and not enough. Saliva, most likely. Armin had used it before, and it got the job done, but it wasn’t comfortable.
Armin curled his fingers on the cold floor and breathed through the pain because it would ease into intense pleasure any . . . moment . . . now . . .
The third slow, measured thrust did it. Armin’s body, trained by years of exactly such encounters, relaxed to allow the intrusion. Gooseflesh broke out all over his skin. Unable to speak, he rocked backward in a silent bid for more. Mo leaned over him, planting one hand on the floor beside his elbow and reaching beneath him with the other to grasp his erection in a confident, practiced grip. Armin shuddered. Sighed. The sound echoed along the dome and came back to him, heavy with his need.
Mo nipped Armin’s shoulder, so quickly the small pain was gone before he’d properly fel
t it. He bent his neck sideways so Mo could reach the spot just below his ear that sent sharp, hot shocks arcing along his skin when Mo sucked on it.
Outside the dome, something large, white, and wrong hovered, milky-green eyes watching them with a strange hunger. Armin stared. What are you? Why are you here?
The mermaid held his gaze. Knowing, but not answering.
Taunting.
It grinned a glass-shard smile and waved long, pale hands through the inky water.
Wait. Hands?
Yes. Who do you think we are, Doctor?
“Just a mermaid.” Mo’s breath was warm against his ear. “Let it look.” The fingers around Armin’s cock moved faster, stroking him just this side of too hard. Mo plunged into him in short, brutal jabs that froze his breath and short-circuited his thoughts. “Come, Doc. Let it watch you come.”
The weird, voyeuristic thrill of the animal beyond the GlasSteel staring at him while Mo fucked him, shoved him headlong into a bone-rattling climax. He came with a cry that anyone wandering past surely would’ve heard. His semen hit the floor with a thick splat-splat-splat. Behind him, Mo shifted, grasped his hips, and slammed into him hard and fast. It hurt, and orgasm made it both better and worse. Finally, Mo let out a low, tortured noise and buried himself to the root in Armin’s body. He pumped his groin against Armin’s rear in a slow, gentle roll like the sea.
Through the white haze of pain and sexual release, Armin registered the way Mo’s fingers shook where they grasped his hipbones. He wondered if the whole experience felt as bizarre to Mo as it did to him.
Mo pulled out of him. He hissed at the sting. He and Mo dressed in silence, not looking at one another. Armin scrunched his face when he was forced to put on his clothes over the fluids oozing out of him and gelling on his skin, but at the moment he had no choice. He could clean up later.
When he sat down to pull on his shoes, the events of the past day hit Armin like a tsunami. Dizzy, his eyelids heavy as stone, he leaned against the dome and yawned until he thought his jaw might unhinge. He waved away Mo’s concerned look. “I’m fine. Just need to rest a moment.”