Down

by Ally Blue

  “I don’t know if we can or not. It’s like I told Jem, we have to try it this way or give up.” Mo narrowed his eyes. His gaze focused somewhere in the middle distance. “But I was thinking, if the mermaids are really involved in any of this shit deliberately, maybe they’ll approach us if we’re out there in person. Maybe they’ll want to get close. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”

  “That’s actually a very good idea.” Impressed, Armin touched Mo’s arm as the two of them entered the moon pool bay. “You’re a natural scientist.”

  “Computer, seal and pressurize bay.” Mo crossed the room, stripping off his shirt as he went. “What makes you say that?”

  “You have an affinity for this work. You think like a scientist.” Armin skirted the pool to where the walkers hung in their protective niches and kicked off his shoes. “I think it’s my favorite thing about you. I’m sorry that . . .” His throat constricted, holding the words inside.

  Naturally, Mo heard what he hadn’t said. The half smile on Mo’s lips vanished. He threw his shirt into the open locker, closed the distance between them, and planted a gentle kiss on Armin’s lips. “This wasn’t your fault, Armin. Not any of it. Especially not the things growing in our heads, or anyone else’s.”

  Armin slid his fingers into the thick, dark hair at the nape of Mo’s neck and leaned their foreheads together. Keeping him close while they were both still themselves. “I wish I could believe that.”

  “Why can’t you?” Mo slipped an arm around Armin’s waist. The other hand mapped the contours of his face as if memorizing him. “What could you possibly have done different?”

  Armin turned his face into Mo’s comforting touch. “What’s happening here is directly related to what happened in Antarctica. The video from Klaudia’s helmet proved it. If only I’d left immediately and gone straight down there when she called—”

  “Then you’d probably be dead or missing along with everybody else on the Varredura Longa.” Mo moved the arm around Armin, laid both hands on his cheeks, and stared into his eyes with an intensity that glued him in place. “You couldn’t have stopped this, Armin. I’m glad you didn’t go to Antarctica any earlier, because then I’d never have met you. And I’m happy I met you, no matter what else happens.”

  The certainly in Mo’s voice brought a telltale sting to Armin’s eyes. He blinked it away, smiling in spite of everything because the sense of belonging welling up inside him melted the icy dread for the first time in what seemed like forever.

  “I’m glad too.” Armin tilted his head to kiss Mo. I wish this could last longer, he said with the press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue. I wish we could see the sun together, one day.

  They both knew it wouldn’t happen. But he could wish.

  Mo drew back with a small, wry smile. “Guess we better get busy. We still need to catch a mermaid.”

  Feeling melancholy, Armin finished undressing and began the process of getting into the walker. He watched without shame as Mo did the same beside him. God, but the man had a beautiful body. Almost as glorious as his mind. Armin wondered if it was wrong that what angered him most about this whole mess was that he and Mo would never have the chance for a future.

  They’d only walked together twice before, but they already made a smooth, seamless team. They were ready to go in a matter of minutes. Mo informed Jemima, the computer uncovered the moon pool, and they plunged into the sea.

  Armin carried the tagger and trackers, since of the two of them only he had actual experience in hand-tagging. At Mo’s suggestion, they kept their helmet and wrist lights on the lowest setting that still allowed them to see. With the go-cart dark and their walkers nearly so, they hoped to lure the mermaids close enough to tag.

  Close enough to touch.

  If only he truly could. But flesh-to-flesh contact with a mermaid at depth would mean a crushing, icy death. He’d take what he could get and be content.

  He and Mo walked out to where the latest failed attempt at auto-tagging hung in the water. Armin had always thought the trackers resembled tiny electronic shrimp. When he’d first started using these new trackers several years ago, he’d foreseen losing a lot of them to sea creatures feeding, but that fear had proved groundless. Probably because the things didn’t smell or taste like food, regardless of how they looked.

  He closed his hand carefully around the curved little bit of hardware. “This one’s already programmed. Might as well use it, if we can.”

  Mo took a slow step forward. “Heads up, Armin. I think you’re about to get your chance.” He pointed into the dark.

  Armin peered along Mo’s outstretched arm. A shape moved in the blackness. It grew more distinct, and Armin saw that it was swimming.

  Fast. Toward them.

  He made out the faint gleam of milky-green eyes a second later, and his heart jumped into his throat.

  In his years as a marine geologist and biologist, he’d gone on hundreds of dives in all the world’s oceans, and tagged more marine animals than he could count in a long Antarctic night. But none of those experiences had been anything like this one—a first, something historic, something no one else had ever done.

  Also, the animals he tagged had never rushed at him this way, toothy mouths agape and eyes glittering with unfriendly purpose. It put him a bit off-kilter.

  Mo hissed a sharp breath in his ear through the helmet’s audio. “Doc . . .”

  His tense whisper prodded Armin into action. He mounted the tracking device on the tagger without looking away from the creature swimming toward him.

  It was slowing now, as if sensing his intentions. Its body language broadcast suspicion like a living radio.

  In another time and place, Armin would have wondered how he picked up such a thing from a fish, no matter how bizarrely human it looked. But right now, the lives of everyone left on BathyTech 3—not to mention himself, Mo, and Jemima—might well depend on him placing a tracker on the creature approaching with more caution every second. So he shoved his curiosity to the back of his mind and followed the instinct telling him to concentrate on his fear.

  He didn’t like to call it that. He’d never been afraid of the ocean, or anything in it. Even the horrors he’d seen on the Varredura Longa had fallen squarely in the realm of man-made.

  Then they’d found that damned rock that wasn’t a rock here in Richards Deep. Reality had begun to crumble around him, and fear had spread through his soul like a stain. He wondered if he’d ever be rid of it.

  For the first time in what seemed ages, he loosened his grip on the cold, sick dread inside him and let it rise to the surface. Let it raise his pulse and quicken his breath. Let it shine on his face.

  The mermaid grinned, all sharp teeth and glowing eyes the color of rot. Its tail whipped. It swam forward with lazy grace. No hurry, it seemed to say. You’re not going anywhere, now, are you?

  He wasn’t, though not for the reasons his target believed.

  Armin laughed, because here he stood in the muck on the ocean floor, attributing deliberate, villainous strategy to a damned fish.

  Mo cast him an appalled glance. “Not a good time to lose your shit, Doc.”

  “I know.” Armin let the tracking delivery spear fall to the seabed and palmed the tagger portion with the tracker already loaded. The only way this was going to happen was if he could get close enough to do it with his own hands. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

  He could tell Mo didn’t believe him. But Mo stopped talking and didn’t interfere, so it hardly mattered what he believed.

  Armin paced forward, one slow step at a time. He focused on his terror, his worry, his growing belief that none of them were going to make it out of this alive. The more the mermaid thought him defeated, the more likely it would come to him unsuspecting of his true motives.

  He tried not to consider the implications of this animal having any inkling of his thoughts or motivations in the first place. That was a mental road to wa
lk somewhere other than here, where nothing but his suit separated him from the pitiless sea.

  He stopped roughly three meters from the creature. It kept coming, propelled by languid waves of its tail, until it floated close enough for him to see the imperfections in each tiny, flat scale on its too-human face. Its wide mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, like a filter feeder.

  Armin wasn’t fooled. This thing was a carnivore. A predator. Teeth like that were made for tearing flesh.

  Looking into its eyes felt like drowning. But Armin did it anyway. He held the greenish gaze trying to invade him like a disease, let it have his fear and revulsion while he slipped his hand up, over, around, and attached the tracker to the base of the mermaid’s dorsal fin.

  With a screech he heard through his helmet, it jerked away from him, yanking him off-balance. He felt himself toppling.

  Everything happened in slow motion. He saw the mermaid shoot forward, but couldn’t move fast enough to stop it from sinking its movie-monster teeth into his right hand.

  At first, Mo wasn’t sure what had happened. Then Armin shouted, his voice full of surprise and pain, and Mo leaped forward to stop whatever the hell had made him sound like that.

  Seeing the mermaid’s teeth imbedded in Armin’s hand stopped Mo in his tracks. “Shit.” He fumbled for his stun stick. “Armin, hold still!”

  “No!” The stubborn scientific determination Mo admired and hated gleamed in Armin’s wide, terrified eyes. “Don’t stun it! It’s tagged! We don’t know what the stunner will do to it.”

  Damn it. Mo lowered the stunner, but kept it in his hand. He wasn’t about to risk Armin’s life. Not for anything. Not even the lives of every other person on BathyTech. Hell, if it weren’t for the self-seal suit fabric, the ocean would’ve already rushed in to stop Armin’s heart with its cold. Mo would kill the mermaid in a heartbeat if that’s what it took to keep Armin alive.

  Mo knew what that said about him, but he didn’t care. One thing he’d learned in Dubai was, when it came right down to it, people were no better than animals. You had to look after yourself and your people, because nobody else was going to. Armin was his now. His to protect. He’d keep Armin and himself alive first, and worry about the rest later.

  The mermaid shook Armin’s hand like a shark ripping its prey in half. Armin screamed, and Mo was done with being careful. He flung himself at the animal and shoved the butt end of his weapon into the nearest gill slit.

  The creature let go of Armin with a high-pitched shriek that hurt Mo’s ears, even through his helmet. It backed away. Blood drifted from its bared teeth in little red rivers. Its eyes glowed green and white and murderous.

  Mo didn’t dare look away. “Armin?”

  “I’m all right.” He sounded anything but, his voice weak and shaking. “The suit’s already sealed itself. Not enough water got in to hurt me.”

  “What the fuck’s going on out there?” Jem sounded scared and royally pissed off. “Rees! Report, goddamn it.”

  “Later.” The mermaid tensed like a cat about to spring, and Mo did the only thing he could think of aside from stunning it. “Jem, lights, hit the lights! Now!”

  Never in his life had he been so grateful for a strong, trusting working relationship. Jem didn’t argue, or ask questions, or pull rank. She turned on the go-cart’s outside lights, because she knew him well enough to know he had a reason for wanting them on.

  Just like he’d hoped, the mermaid whipped around and hightailed it away from the brightness. Mo’s knees sagged. “Thanks, Mama.”

  “No problem. You gonna tell me why I just did that?”

  “Yeah, soon as I get the Doc back on board.”

  “Roger that. I’ll get the first aid kit ready. What happened?”

  “No, don’t.” Armin grasped Mo’s wrist with his uninjured hand. In the white glow of the cart’s lights, his face was pasty and lined with pain. “Jemima, I’ve just tagged that mermaid. It bit me, but I’m fine. I need you to keep an eye on the readout, and inform Dr. Jhut that we’ve completed the mission so that she can start tracking it. Will you do that?”

  Jem’s brief pause announced her disapproval as loudly as if she’d shouted it. “Whatever you say, Doctor. Out.”

  Mo slipped an arm around Armin’s waist. Armin leaned against his side, nearly a deadweight in the water, and Mo tightened his grip. “Stay with me, Doc. We’re going back to the cart.” He picked up his pace, striding as fast as he could with Armin’s feet dragging in the mud. “Hey. You awake?”

  “Yes.” Armin’s voice was faint, but aware, and Mo could’ve cried with relief. “I . . . I feel ill. We should get back quickly.” He breathed for a few seconds. In and out, too fast. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop it. Hang on to me and save your strength.”

  Clutching Armin tight to his side, he made for the moon pool as fast as he could go.

  He didn’t relax until he’d heaved Armin over the edge into the bay, levered himself inside, and the computer had shut the pool’s cover behind them. That done, he ripped off his helmet and gloves, tossed them aside, and crawled to where Armin lay motionless on the floor beside the pool.

  Forcing himself to move slowly, calmly, carefully, he unsealed Armin’s helmet and took it off. “Armin? Hey, talk to me.”

  Armin gave him a weak smile. His lips shaped Mo’s name. Mo’s throat clamped shut. His vision blurred. He bent and kissed Armin’s cold, damp forehead.

  He drew back, blinking against the sting in his eyes. “Let’s get that glove off and see what we’re dealing with.”

  Armin’s chest shook. For a second Mo thought he was crying, and the world stood still. What would he do? What could he possibly say to make it better? The truth was he couldn’t, and that fact destroyed him.

  Then he looked into Armin’s face and realized he was laughing.

  Laughing.

  Damn that fucker anyway.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” He shot a swift glare at Armin, then turned his attention to the man’s mangled, bloodied glove. “Shit. I’m gonna have to cut this thing off.”

  “Sorry,” Armin whispered as Mo rose to fetch the first aid kit from the locker beside the door. “It was just . . . Incredible. So incredible.”

  “What? Getting your hand almost torn off?”

  Mo hated his own scornful tone. He thought he knew what Armin meant. How many other people had ever touched a mermaid with their own hands? How many scientists would gladly suffer the same injury for that chance? Why was he being like this?

  He turned back to Armin, the first aid kit in hand. Armin gazed at him with a shiny-eyed fondness that made him feel warm inside. “You know. You’d do the same, given the chance.”

  What could he say? Mo crossed to the pool and knelt at Armin’s side. “You’re right. I would.” He laid both hands on Armin’s cheeks and leaned forward, staring into his eyes. “But I still hate that you did it, because I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I’m fucking scared to death of what this might do to you.” He bent to kiss Armin’s lips. A chaste but firm kiss, meant not to seduce, but to remind Armin that he was important to someone. When they drew apart, Mo thought Armin looked more like the man he had come to know. “Now hold still. This is probably not going to feel too good.”

  Armin sighed. “I don’t expect it will. Do what you must.”

  He lay back on the floor, eyes closed. Mo opened the kit and prepared to go to work.

  By the time the go-cart returned to BT3, Mo had Armin’s wound cleaned and dressed as well as he could manage, and had bullied Armin into taking one of the broad-spectrum antibiotic shots included in the first aid kit.

  Nothing he said could convince the stubborn bastard to take any of the pain meds, though.

  “I need to keep a clear head.” Armin spoke through clenched teeth, his upper lip beaded with pain-sweat. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Since when does ‘fine’ mean you can’t even stand up ’cause you’re hurt
ing so bad?” Jem wondered as she and Mo carried Armin into the med bay.

  Armin pinned her with the same death glare he’d been using on Mo the whole way from Richards Deep to BathyTech. “Narcotics impede proper brain function. That is a known fact. Therefore, I will not be taking any. Why is that so damned difficult for you people to understand?”

  Jem stared back, completely cool and unfazed. “Not all pain meds are narcotics, Doctor. If you think they are, then obviously the pain is fucking with your brain. Which is a known phenomenon, by the way. In case you didn’t know that.”

  Armin rolled his eyes toward the sky more than seven thousand meters above. Mo swallowed laughter. He grinned at Jem, who winked at him.

  They’d barely rounded the corner approaching the med bay when Youssouf came storming out. “How in the almighty fuck did you manage to get bitten by a damned mermaid?”

  “I was tagging it by hand. It was the only way. They were wary of the auto-tagger.” Armin nodded at his hand, draped over Jem’s shoulder. “Mo washed it out and dressed it in the go-cart, and gave me an antibiotic shot, but they’ve informed me that I’m not allowed into the lab to watch the tracker until I let you have a look.”

  “And make him take something for the pain, would you?” Mo ignored Armin’s scowl as he helped him through the door into the med bay. “It’s hurting him really bad, but he won’t take anything because he doesn’t want it to make him fuzzy.”

  “Perhaps you missed the part where we are actually tracking a mermaid for the first time in history.” Armin shoved free of Mo’s grip and stood swaying in the middle of the floor, his black eyes blazing. “I need to be a part of this. I will not be pushed aside because of a simple injury.”

  “Fine. I’ll give you something nondrowsy so you can concentrate without the pain distracting you.” Youssouf went to the storage cabinet and started gathering supplies. “Anything else? You got any other problems with being treated for this bite?”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Mo grasped Armin’s elbow again. “C’mon, Armin. You’re gonna sit your stubborn ass down and let the nice doctor fix up your hand so you can go play with the other scientists. Okay?”