Down

by Ally Blue

  For the first time, Armin wondered if he’d gotten the contagion from Mo.

  The worst part of that particular scenario was the illogical but unshakable idea that he’d failed to protect Mo from a danger he never should have had to face.

  An abnormal gloom shaded the corridor outside Mo’s door for several meters in either direction. Armin steeled his nerves and ignored it. He hammered his fist on the door, like Jemima had done before. “Mo? It’s Armin. Open the door. Please.”

  No answer.

  Armin didn’t wait. “Auto-port. This is Dr. Armin Savage-Hall here to see Mr. Rees. Maximum urgency.”

  The auto-port answered in its usual bland electronic voice. “Mo is not in his quarters. Would you like to leave a message, Dr. Armin Savage-Hall?”

  Not in his quarters. Christ.

  Armin rested his forehead against the cool metal of the door. His stomach churned. “Where is he?”

  “Mo has not informed this auto-port of his current destination or the time of his anticipated return. Would you like to leave a message, Dr. Armin Savage-Hall?”

  Panic sparked at the edge of Armin’s vision. He fought it back. “Yes. Message: Mo, this is Armin. If you come back before I find you or speak to you, please com me immediately. It’s extremely urgent. Thank you. End message.”

  The auto-port chimed. “Message received. Thank you.”

  Armin turned and leaned on the wall, feeling at a loss. What now? Should he wait here? Go back to the med bay? Mandala would be furious with him. With good reason, yes. But that didn’t make him more eager to face her.

  No. He hadn’t crept away like a thief only to slink back in defeat at the first sign of trouble. He’d broken every rule of safety and good sense because his gut told him Mo needed help. Needed him. He couldn’t give up.

  Digging deep for his determination, Armin shoved himself away from the wall and started walking. He had no particular destination in mind. He kept Mo front and center in his thoughts and let his feet carry him where they would.

  Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to end up at the aquarium.

  As he pushed open the door, pictures flashed through his brain in vivid, super-saturated colors—bright blood on the white floor, Ashlyn’s empty eye sockets, the sun glittering on the ocean’s surface, Mo’s face twisted in pleasure.

  Mo’s dark eyes gone blue-black, sparking purplish. Mo’s fingers long and flexible; Mo’s teeth sharp, thin, wrong.

  Changed.

  No. Please, no.

  Then Armin was inside. The aquarium was empty.

  His knees went weak. He sat down hard on the floor. “Thank God,” he whispered. He wanted to find Mo. But not like that. Not changed.

  Of course he still had to find Mo at all, and he wouldn’t accomplish his goal by lingering in the places where Mo wasn’t.

  He rose to leave. A swift movement from beyond the dome caught his eye.

  Only a fish, he told himself, even as he spun to see.

  Technically, he was right. But mermaids weren’t your average fish. And this one’s milky eyes stared directly into his as if it could see inside his head.

  In Armin’s memory, Mo pounded hard and hot inside him, the cold floor dug into his elbows and knees, while a different mermaid watched him from the other side of the aquarium’s GlasSteel wall.

  Who do you think we are, Doctor?

  He crossed the room and pressed both palms to the transparent barrier separating him from the creature. “What are you, really?” The thing outside stopped and bared its nightmare teeth as if it had heard his question. He wondered if it had. He leaned forward, staring directly into the mermaid’s hazy-green gaze. “Can you understand me?”

  The mermaid, predictably, didn’t answer. But Armin thought he caught a faint purple-blue glint in the depths of its bulging eyes. Fear trickled like ice down his spine.

  Something went thud to his right. Startled, he jumped backward, stumbled and fell, landing badly on his left hip with his left arm twisted underneath him. He ignored the sharp pain and glanced in the direction of the unexpected sound.

  Another mermaid—bigger, heftier, wide eyes most definitely glowing like black lights—slammed into the dome as he watched.

  Thud.

  A noise like a shot followed. Little cracks webbed out from the point of contact.

  Armin gaped, horrified. Outside, the big mermaid grinned at him.

  Grinned. The light from the aquarium glinted off its long, curved teeth and the silvery scales on its tail.

  No. Wait.

  The light was coming from two different directions. Not only from the aquarium but from behind the mermaid also. From deep in the sea where there was no light.

  He looked, saw two bright spots beyond the mermaid, and realized what they were.

  Headlights. Moving toward the pod.

  Oh, Christ. Mo.

  Armin whirled and left the aquarium at a dead run.

  He was halfway to the go-cart bay before he realized that the crack in the dome hadn't obscured his view of the go-cart. It had vanished like it had never been there. Maybe it hadn’t.

  Considering what it meant could happen later. Right now, he had more important things to think about.

  He burst into the go-cart bay just in time to watch a cart approach the wide-open receptacle beyond the closed inner airlock doors. The outside doors had been left open.

  The cart had blundered into the lock, churning up foam and waves, before Armin recognized the silence around him for what it was.

  No alarms. The outer airlock doors gaping open should’ve had klaxons blaring throughout the pod, yet no one had heard a thing.

  Armin couldn’t help admiring Mo’s ingenuity, even though he wanted to shake him and scream at him and make him understand how wrong he’d been to run away like that.

  In Armin’s head, Klaudia Longenesse drifted off into the dark to an unknown fate. He’d seen it a thousand times in his nightmares. Thank God Mo had been sensible enough not to go that route. Armin didn’t think he could’ve handled it.

  The inside airlock hissed open. Angry, terrified, and relieved, Armin rushed forward and threw his arms around Mo barely in time to catch him when he collapsed.

  Come back. Come back to me. Mo. Mo. Wake. Up. Come back. Come. Baaaack . . .

  A stinging smack landed on Mo’s sore, swollen cheek. “Mo! Damn it, wake up. Please. Answer me.”

  The badly disguised panic in the familiar voice forced Mo’s eyes open more surely than the slap to the face. Not that he appreciated being hit, but as tired and scared as he was right now? He could’ve ignored it.

  He couldn’t ignore Armin’s fear, though. Especially when that fear centered on him. His safety.

  “’M okay.” Blinking against the painfully bright lights, he squinted up at the person-shaped silhouette hovering over him. If someone had to come meet him, he was glad it was Armin, for a hundred reasons he wasn’t sure he wanted to unpack right now. “Armin. I know. I saw.”

  Shocked silence. Not a surprise, but still an annoyance. Mo shoved Armin aside and tried to get up.

  Only Armin’s strong, sure grip kept him from falling to the floor again.

  Goddamn it.

  “They grow. In the dark.” Mo nuzzled into Armin’s neck. Inhaled his scent, sweat and musk and man. God, he wanted to curl up against Armin’s chest and sleep for a year, but this was urgent. “They’re coming for us. We have to go upside.”

  Armin’s back tensed under his hands. “I need to take you to the med bay. Where is Daisy?”

  Mo tried to remember. No matter how hard he thought about it, his mind wouldn’t go back further than the thing that had sent him racing back here in a blazing panic.

  “I don’t know. She was in my helmet, but . . .” The implications of Armin’s question finally sank in, and Mo frowned. “Wait. How’d you know Daisy was with me?”

  “You’ve been bitten again. More than once.” Armin brushed his fingertips over Mo’s cheek—
the one he hadn’t slapped. The touch burned. “Also, you have a severe rash all over your face and neck. I’m no expert, but it looks very much like one caused by urticating hairs.”

  The memory of Daisy scrabbling around his helmet, hissing and scraping against him, flashed through Mo’s mind. She’d panicked and brushed her abdominal bristles onto him when he’d started the flow of Mist.

  He didn’t remember being bitten, though. Had it happened later? After whatever it was he couldn’t remember? The mysterious event that made him believe beyond the slightest doubt that the world as he knew it was over? That BT3 would become another Varredura Longa unless they all went to the surface right fucking now?

  Christ. Forget Daisy, forget the bites and the rash—hell, forget his pounding head and roiling stomach—he had to convince Armin they had to leave, right now. All of them. Everyone on the pod. Had to. Nothing else mattered.

  He let Armin manhandle him to his feet, since he couldn’t do it himself. Why was he so fucking weak? But he protested when Armin dragged him to the bench beside the airlock and made him sit. “No. We have to go. Armin, please.”

  “We will. As soon as it’s safe.” Armin started working open the seals on Mo’s walker suit. He didn’t look at Mo’s face, but kept all his attention on what he was doing. “Where are your clothes?”

  “In the cart.” Mo held up his arms and let Armin peel the walker off of them, since he didn’t have the strength to fight. “Damn it, we’re running out of time.”

  “We’ll spare the time.”

  “But—”

  Armin’s strong fingers grasping his chin shocked Mo into silence. He gaped at Armin and did his best not to gasp in pain. A tiny sound escaped him in spite of himself, and Armin gentled his grip with a sympathetic flinch. “I don’t know what happened to you out there. But whatever it was, it sent you back here confused, weak, and physically ill. Your entire face is inflamed from Daisy’s hairs. The worst part is, you put her in your helmet on purpose.” He dropped his hand and leaned closer, his black eyes full of horrified disbelief and still firmly fixed somewhere south of Mo’s face. “A tarantula, Mo. In your helmet. You did that. Yourself.”

  Mo laughed. He sounded like someone had run his vocal cords through a cheese grater. Felt like it too. “Well. When you put it like that, it sounds kind of crazy.”

  The look on Armin’s face said he was not amused. “I’m getting you out of that walker and examining you for any further self-inflicted injuries. Then I’m getting you dressed and taking you to the med bay. After that, you can tell me what exactly happened and what you saw.” He pointed at Mo. “Stay put while I fetch your clothes from the cart.”

  Armin had never sounded so grim. Mo’s heart sank. He knew Armin well enough by now to know they weren’t leaving BT3 until Armin was damn good and ready.

  Mo lifted his hips off the bench so Armin could ease the walker suit over his rear and down his thighs. “What about Daisy?”

  Armin glanced up at him. “I’ll look for her. But I’ll be honest. She might not have survived.”

  Another image exploded behind Mo’s eyes—his helmet falling to the go-cart floor in slow motion; Daisy curled up inside, unmoving.

  Fuck. He wiped away the sweat beading on his upper lip and stinging his raw skin. Hannah loved Daisy like most people loved a fucking kitten. He’d never forgive himself if he’d gotten her killed.

  He sat there with his bare ass on the cold bench while Armin went inside the cart. Watching Armin disappear into the dimness made Mo’s heart race and his stomach churn. It felt bad. Dangerous. Like Armin might not come back.

  Mo’s lungs seemed to shrink, like he couldn’t get enough air. He gripped the edge of the bench until the metal dug into his fingers, but it didn’t help. The smothering feeling wouldn’t let him go. Like he was seeing a preview of a future he could only prevent by walking an invisible tightrope without faltering. He hunched forward and fought back nausea.

  A thousand years later, Armin emerged carrying Mo’s clothes and helmet, and Mo breathed again. Mustering every ounce of strength in his body, he pushed off the bench, stumbled over to Armin, and wrapped both arms around him, clinging to him with a shaking grip.

  Armin’s breath hitched in Mo’s ear. He slipped an arm around his waist. Kissed the side of his head. “It’s all right, Mo. I’m right here. I’m not going to leave you.”

  A tight, sweet warmth closed around Mo’s chest like a fist. No one had ever been able to see inside his head the way Armin did. He’d already become addicted to that connection. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t really sure what he was apologizing for. Running off? Breaking the rules like he always had? Scaring Armin?

  Yeah. Maybe that. He’d never cared that much about what other people thought, before. Armin was different. He was learning he’d do a lot of shit differently to keep from hurting Armin.

  “Never mind that.” Armin smiled at him and gently touched his sore face. “Come sit down. You can barely stand up.”

  Mo didn’t argue, since Armin had the facts on his side. He let Armin help him back to the bench. “Did you find Daisy?”

  In answer, Armin set the helmet on the floor. Poor Daisy lay on her back, her legs curled inward. She seemed smaller than before. Wilted.

  Guilt and a surprisingly strong grief swelled in Mo’s chest. “Shit. I killed her. What’ll Hannah say?”

  Armin didn’t answer. The peculiar, heavy quality of his silence caught Mo’s attention. He stared at Armin, who refused to meet his gaze. “I’m sure she’ll understand.” Armin lifted Mo’s right foot and ran his hand up the back of Mo’s calf. “Are you hurting anywhere? Other than your face, of course.”

  “No.” Mo watched Armin examine his other leg. They hadn’t known each other long, and Armin had his blank expression on, but Mo had studied his features constantly over the past few days, waking and sleeping, when he was aware of it and when he wasn’t. His face had no more mysteries for Mo. “What happened?”

  Armin was smart enough not to pretend he didn’t know what Mo was talking about. “Hannah’s worse. They had to sedate her because she became violent.” He rose, pulled Mo gently forward, and leaned over to study his back. It must’ve looked all right because Armin didn’t mention it. He settled onto the bench beside Mo and took his hand. “She’s changing, the way Ryal did. The way they all did.” He lifted his head but stopped short of meeting Mo’s gaze. “They’re doing all they can for her, of course. But it’s up to us. We have to find a way to stop this.”

  “Jesus. Poor Hannah.” Mo rubbed a hand over his chest. He ached all over, and he didn’t know whether to blame spider venom or the triple blow of Daisy’s death at his hands, Hannah’s worsening sickness, and the thing he couldn’t quite remember. The thing Daisy had died to show him.

  Armin stood and started to reach for the pile of clothes on the bench. The strange, dull pain pooling in the frown lines around his mouth made Mo grasp his hand. Armin stopped and stood still, blinking at the floor.

  Mo studied Armin with narrowed eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Armin squeezed Mo’s hand hard and said nothing.

  Fuck that.

  Using Armin’s grip as leverage, Mo pulled himself to his feet and examined Armin’s stubbornly downcast eyes. His lashes cast long, thin shadows on his cheeks, and Mo’s heart constricted. He wished he could wrap Armin around his soul like a blanket. Drown in him. Keep him forever.

  He traced the line of Armin’s jaw with his fingertips. “Don’t keep me in the dark. That doesn’t help.”

  “I know, but . . .” Armin swallowed. Licked his lips. Opened his mouth and shut it again.

  A terrible dread oozed through Mo’s veins like poison. “Armin. Look at me.”

  “I can’t.”

  Oh no. “Why?”

  “Because I have the growth in my brain. I’m infected.”

  The words felt like a gut-punch. Numb with shock, his throat too tight to speak, Mo wrapped Armin in
his arms and held him close. Armin’s heart thudded too fast against Mo’s chest. After a second, Armin returned the embrace. His shoulders were tense, his fingers shaking where they dug into Mo’s bare back.

  “We can stop this.” Mo stroked Armin’s back, trying to ease away the fear knotting his muscles tight. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  Armin laughed—a jagged, hopeless sound that hurt to hear. “I never would’ve pegged you for an optimist. I like it, though. I’m having trouble mustering any positive thoughts of my own right now.” He nuzzled the side of Mo’s neck, making his pulse run faster. “What makes you so certain?”

  Mo thought about it. He still couldn’t remember exactly what had happened, yet he’d come back from his adventure knowing in his bones that they held the key to their own salvation. All they had to do was see it for what it was.

  “I don’t know. But we can find out.” He drew back and nodded at the helmet on the floor. “Everything that happened out there is recorded in my helmet cam. We can watch it in my quarters.”

  Armin nodded. Thoughtful, hopeful, the fear and sorrow edging back in the face of his scientific curiosity. “We really should get you scanned first.”

  Mo frowned. “Huh?”

  “We’re scanning all personnel for growths. It’s cumbersome, but it’s really the best way we have right now of knowing who’s infected and who isn’t.” The corners of Armin’s mouth tipped upward. “That’s how I found out. Obviously, I haven’t shown any physical or psychological changes. It’s a bit of a conundrum.”

  “How do you know you’re contagious?”

  “I don’t.” Armin laid a finger over Mo’s lips. “But I’m not taking any chances.”

  Mo raised his eyebrows. “Hate to point out the obvious, Doc, but you’re here instead of in isolation, so . . .”

  “Yes, well. You weren’t answering your com. I had to see for myself that you were all right.” Armin let out a laugh like broken glass. “You destroy my good sense, Mo. But I’d do the same thing again.”