by Ally Blue
“Yeah. Out.” The connection cut. Youssouf rested her forehead against the wall. “Damn it. God-fucking-damn it. I hate lying to people.”
No one said a word. Mo and Armin clung to each other as if their physical closeness would save them.
It wouldn’t. Armin had begun to wonder if anything would. But Mo’s warmth, strength, and vitality reminded him that they were both still alive. It gave him hope. And that was worth more than all the theories, ideas, and half-formed plans in the world.
Youssouf lifted her head. Her chin jutted out. Stubborn. Unrelenting. It made Armin feel marginally better.
“All right. Let’s plan out our next steps.” She shuffled over to the desk and fell into the chair. “Personnel with growths in their brains are isolated from those without. With the rather glaring exception of you two.” She shot a cutting look at Armin and Mo. “We’re gonna have to make plans for getting everybody off this pod safely, as soon as reasonably possible. Or at least getting the uninfected upside.”
Armin was about to ask when she thought that might be, when Jemima burst into the office. It was so unexpected, every eye in the place turned to look at her.
“Boss, we got a problem.” She clutched the door frame, her whole body radiating tension. It was so unlike her, Armin’s heartbeat rose into the uncomfortable zone. “Some of the people in the lockup got out. According to the infected who stayed put, the ones who escaped attacked one of the others so the guards would have to open the door. They’re loose in the pod.”
Mandala’s eyes widened. “How many?”
“Five.”
Five too many. Armin felt sick.
Youssouf rubbed her eyes. “How long ago?”
“Not sure.” Jemima looked at the floor. “They killed the guards. Neither of them had time to sound an alarm. Last time I was there was half an hour ago. It could’ve been any time between then and now.”
Armin’s heart sank. With changed people running free in the pod, how many more would they infect? Worse, would they do it deliberately?
Before Dr. Youssouf could give Jemima any direction one way or another, a low rumble shook the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Close behind it came an ear-splitting klaxon.
Armin gripped Mo’s hand with all his strength as the floor vibrated under his feet. “What’s happening?”
“No idea. But I’ll find out.” Rubbing her neck with her free hand, Youssouf paced the tight space between the desk and the wall. “Ling. This is Youssouf. Come in.”
Several seconds of silence followed. Jemima cursed under her breath.
“Ling here,” the woman answered finally. “We’re investigating the explosion.”
Rashmi broke in, his voice terse and clipped. “Youssouf, looks like the explosion came from the aquarium. We’re compromised.”
“Shit.” Youssouf sat on the edge of the desk, her face grim. “Did that section seal off?”
“Yeah. But, boss, Hawk commed me and said someone broke into the explosives storage. What if—”
The answer to his unspoken question came in a horrifying boom, closer this time, sending dust rattling down from the ceiling.
Jemima lunged over to a panel on the wall and stabbed at a couple of buttons. A readout popped up, and she swore. “It’s the go-cart airlock. Goddamn it.”
The other side of the pod. Someone was deliberately, methodically destroying BathyTech 3. Armin swallowed bile.
Mandala stood and aimed a grim stare at Youssouf. “All right. We need to do our best to get everyone off this pod before whoever has the explosives destroys the whole thing. How long do you think we have?”
Youssouf shook her head. “I have no idea. It depends on how many explosives they’ve set. We didn’t store a lot here, but there’s only six sections to the pod, and they’ve already blown holes in two of ’em. Those two are closed off now.” She peered at the rest of the group, solemn and fearful. “If they close off the section with the sub bay, we’re fucked.”
“Then we’re out of time. We need to leave, right now.” Mo stood, his hand still wrapped firmly around Armin’s as if he never intended to let go. “I say we take whoever’s not changed and any of the changed people we can get without going out of our way, and head for the Peregrine.”
Armin stared at him like he’d never seen him before. “How can we do that? We’d be dooming the rest of the changed to certain death.”
“They’ll die anyway if we can’t fix them. Maybe it’s kinder this way.” Mo’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “It’s not good, Doc. I know that. But what choice do we have?”
“He’s right.” Youssouf rose just as another rumble shook the walls. She cursed. “Rashmi! You still there?”
“Yeah, boss.” His voice was fainter this time, backed by shouting. “It was the cafeteria this time. I’m gathering survivors and making for the sub bay. Ling’s getting the folks from the med bay isolation and the rest of the security team’s gathering the rest of the lockup. Tell me y’all are coming.”
“Yeah. We’ll be there in a few. Out.” Youssouf rose. “Well. I guess that’s it. Let’s move out. We’ll pick up anybody we meet on the way.”
Mandala headed for the vault where they’d stored the object that had started all this. “We can’t leave it.” She dug the special box, goggles, and isolation suit out of the cabinet while she talked. “We must continue to study this thing if we’re to find the solution to this problem.”
“Fine. But the sub’s not waiting for you. I got a whole pod full of people to think about.” Youssouf turned toward Jemima. “Jem, get your ass to the sub. You’re in charge of making sure everybody’s loaded in an orderly fashion.”
“On it.” Jemima shot an indecipherable look at Mo and Armin on her way out the door.
Youssouf pointed at Mo. “Rees, you go help get the infected but unchanged onto the sub. Have ’em keep their eyes down, just in case. Get shirts, sheets, whatever you can find to cover their eyes once they’re loaded. Armin, you’re with him.”
“Right.” Armin followed Mo to the door.
Mo stopped at the doorway, patting the pocket containing his switchblade. “And the changed?”
She sighed as though the weight of the universe rested on her back. He supposed it felt that way to her. “If they leave you alone, leave them alone. Bring them if they’re willing to come along restrained. If not, if they try to stop you, shoot to kill.”
Armin stared at her, horrified. “Wait, you can’t just—”
“We don’t have time to argue,” Mandala interrupted. She strode forward with the isolation box hovering behind her, the filter goggles shoved up onto her forehead and her suit still on. “Even if everyone who’s changed shows up at the sub without us having to go find them, it’s too dangerous to take them all with us. Maybe we can find a way to isolate some of them, but certainly not all. They could infect everyone on board.” She squeezed his arm. “Let’s go.”
They went.
Armin and Mo got the unchanged infected to the sub without incident, while Youssouf’s evacuation announcement went out overhead. They were a silent and subdued group, obedient as well-trained puppies. Grateful not to be left behind, most likely. Armin couldn’t blame them.
None of the changed showed up. Nor did they see any on their way to the sub. Armin couldn’t help but feel that was deliberate on the part of the changed. If they were truly becoming mermaids, what did it matter to them? They would live happily underwater.
He hoped for their sakes he was right.
Jemima was counting in another group when they got to the sub bay. She waved a hand toward a bin to her left. “Towels. Everybody take one and put it over your head. I know it feels stupid, but until the docs know exactly what’s what with this freaky-ass infection, this’ll keep folks with brain growths from spreading ’em by accident.”
Armin snagged two towels from the pile, draped one over his head, and handed the other one to Mo. “We never found Ashlyn. Not even a sign of her.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Mo donned his towel, took Armin’s uninjured hand and laced their fingers together. “I just can’t figure what could’ve happened to her. Especially with . . . well, you know.”
Grief and guilt closed Armin’s throat. Oh yes, he knew. Ashlyn’s empty, bloody eye sockets would stalk his nightmares as long as he drew breath.
Youssouf came striding through the bay, herding a few stragglers ahead of her. “All right, people. This is it. We’re all here. Get your butts on board and let’s move.”
Mo and Armin filed into the sub behind the last few personnel. Youssouf and Jemima followed. Armin heard the sub door clang shut behind him as he settled into the padded bench beside Mo, in the section assigned to the infected. It wasn't possible to divide the single space into separate areas to keep infected and uninfected away from each other, but at least they could try to keep the two groups from mingling.
He listened to Amara and Jemima go through the emergency evacuation process and felt truly calm for the first time since Ashlyn had scooped out her own eyes, then vanished. Their course for the immediate future had been set. They had to follow it, for better or worse.
Armin found a certain serenity in having no other choice.
Still, the clock was ticking, and everyone on board knew it. The atmosphere was thick with tension. It eased a bit when the sub sank through the pool into the open ocean and began rising.
Armin rolled up his towel enough to see what was going on in the sub. Beside him, Mo did the same. What else were they to do during the long trip to the surface? Both of them knew better than to look anyone in the eye.
Youssouf stood beside the hatch and scanned the crowd of frightened refugees. “It takes about four hours to reach the surface. Plus we’ll have another couple of hours to get to the Peregrine. I suggest everybody try to get some sleep. They’re short-staffed and pretty much running under emergency operations upside, so I don’t know who all might be ordered into service as medical or security personnel once we arrive.”
On the other side of the sub, Mandala leaned forward in her seat. “You’ll need help here. I can—”
“You can get some rest, like I said.” Youssouf aimed a wry smile at her. “Don’t worry too much, this sub mostly drives itself. I’m gonna com the ship and let ’em know what happened, then all I have to do is keep an eye on our course.”
Mandala didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she subsided.
Armin wasn’t fooled. He’d seen her go three or four days on nothing but caffeine and catnaps during projects she considered important, and she had that gleam in her eye right now. Though what she found immediately intriguing about this sub, he had no clue. Personally, he intended to follow orders and sleep. At least he felt relatively safe here, in spite of the handful of infected persons—aside from himself and Mo—on board. None had shown the slightest symptoms.
Worn out mentally and physically, he rested his head on the cushioned seat back, shut his eyes, and let his mind drift. The last thing he heard before spiraling into sleep was Dr. Youssouf on the com. “Youssouf to Peregrine. Come in, Peregrine . . . Youssouf to Peregrine . . . Youssouf to Peregrine . . . Come in . . .”
Some time later, Mo woke from a dream of darkness, cold, and exhilaration with a cramp in his neck, his towel wadded on his lap, and his left hand asleep. He eased his hand out from under his thigh, wondering how he’d managed to sit on it.
He was shaking out the painful prickling when Youssouf spoke from the other side of the sub. She sounded aggravated and more than a little suspicious. Since Mo knew better than to interrupt, he kept quiet and listened.
Youssouf was talking to someone on her com. “She was sleeping last time I commed. That was more than five hours ago. This is a goddamn emergency, and I have yet to speak to the captain of your ship. Wake her up.”
A pause followed. Mo would’ve sympathized with the anonymous Peregrine crew member, under different circumstances. Youssouf was scary when she was mad, even over a com. As it was, he was on Youssouf’s side.
“I’m sorry,” answered a male voice after a couple of seconds. “But the captain said—”
“I don’t care what she said. You go and wake. Her. Up. Now.” Youssouf jabbed her finger into the air with each word, as if the poor underling were actually there.
The guy didn’t pause this time. “I can’t do that, ma’am. I’m sorry. Dr. Ngalo’s orders.”
Youssouf’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“We’ve lost the first mate and all the other officers, ma’am. Dr. Ngalo is acting second in command. She said Captain Escalano was to get as much sleep as she needed now, while she could. And the doctor is coordinating everything for your arrival. She said you’re all welcome here for as long as you need to stay. Dr. Ngalo says to tell you she has everyone who’s showing symptoms securely quarantined, and everyone else is confined to quarters. She thinks we’ve turned the corner and she’s getting control of it now, thanks to your information.”
Youssouf’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Glad to help out.”
“You really have. The doctor said she’s sorry she can’t talk to you herself right now, but she’s in the middle of something.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll speak to her when we get there. Youssouf out.” She cut the com link, sat back, and frowned at the ceiling.
Mo watched her, feeling as uneasy as she looked. “What’s going on up there?”
She started. “Shit, Rees. Didn’t notice you were awake.” Yawning, she leaned forward again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
She didn't seem concerned about his lack of towel, so he decided not to mention it. “You didn't. I was already awake.” Beside Mo, Armin shifted in his sleep with a soft, lost sound. Mo eased an arm around his shoulders, and he settled against Mo’s chest. “Something’s wrong up there, isn’t it?”
“You mean other than all the officers being sick, or dead?” Youssouf sighed. Deep worry lines bracketed her mouth and dug between her eyes. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve known Rita Escalano for thirty years. There’s no way she would go take a fucking nap during a crisis like the one happening on the Peregrine right now. Something’s way, way off.”
Mo didn’t like anything about what she was suggesting. “You think the guy you were talking to . . .”
“Jankow. Security.”
“You think he was lying?”
She nodded. “I have no idea if he’s acting on his own behalf, or someone else’s, but yeah. I think he was lying, at least about why he wouldn’t let me talk to the captain. In fact, there’s no reason why they should have me talking to a security guy in the first place.”
Shit. Mo glanced around the sub at the handful of survivors sleeping on benches or curled on the floor, some peacefully, some not so much. They’d all thought they’d be safe on the Peregrine. Ngalo would have had them believe she had everything under control. But Mo knew enough about how ships worked to realize Youssouf was right. No captain would sleep while her ship was in danger, even if it meant using drugs to stay awake for days on end. Which meant Captain Escalano must not be physically able to talk to them.
Mo couldn’t think of any possibilities that weren’t damned bad.
“Why would anybody lie about that?” Armin twitched and moaned in Mo’s embrace, and Mo rubbed his thumb in circles on Armin’s upper arm, as much to soothe his own unquiet thoughts as to ease Armin’s restless sleep. “I mean, even if Captain Escalano’s incapacitated, I can’t think of any good reason for Jankow or Ngalo or anyone else not to just tell you.”
“Neither can I.” Youssouf peered at him with a hard, grim expression. “That’s what makes me nervous about it.”
Mo didn’t have an answer for that. He and Youssouf gazed at each other across the cramped sub, and Mo saw his own fears reflected in her face.
When they reached the Peregrine about an hour later, the sub bay was open to the sea, which was weird all by itself. Even stranger was t
he fact that no one had come to meet them.
“I don’t like it.” Armin hadn’t moved from Mo’s side, his body still pressed against Mo’s as if he felt safer there, with Mo’s arm around him and his hand on Mo’s thigh. He’d discarded the stupid, useless towel as well. “Someone should have been here.”
“I suppose if they’re short of personnel, that’s to be expected.” Dr. Jhut sounded doubtful, as if she didn’t believe her own words.
Mo shook his head. “Do you really think they’d let a sub full of people who could make their problem worse dock without an armed escort?” Fingers exploring the contours of the muscles in Armin’s shoulder, Mo glanced at Youssouf, who was trying to stare a hole in the hatch and hadn’t said a word yet. “Boss? What do you think?”
“I think if Rita Escalano was still in command of this ship, she would’ve had guns down here even if she had come herself and she was the only one.” Youssouf turned, planted her hands on her hips, and studied what was left of the BathyTech 3 crew. She looked older than Mo could ever remember. Old, tired, and afraid. But no less determined for any of that, which made Mo glad for the umpteenth time that she was BathyTech 3’s leader. “All right. Here’s what I’m doing. Rita has a security-coded personal com link. If I can remember the code, I’m gonna try to raise her. If I can talk to her, fine. We’ll find out what’s happening on this tub. If not, it’s my opinion that we’ll have to act as though this ship is under hostile control.”
The rest of the group sat in breathless silence while she tried to raise the captain. It took her several tries to get the code right. After that, she tried at least a dozen times to get Captain Escalano to answer.
After twenty minutes or so she gave up, her face gray. “She’s not answering.”
Given the conversation with Jankow and what Youssouf already suspected, Mo knew that couldn’t mean anything good. He clutched Armin closer, nuzzling his hair.
Armin turned his head enough to kiss Mo’s lips. His wide black eyes and the tight clasp of his hand around Mo’s spoke as clearly as if he’d shouted. I’m here. We’re together. It’ll be all right.