by Ally Blue
“Okay. Let’s hear it.”
Youssouf explained what they intended to do, and how. To Armin, the heartbeat of silence on the other end when she’d finished felt distinctly skeptical.
“That’s going to be exceptionally difficult up here.” The engineer didn’t sound happy. “It’ll be hard enough for you down there. But we have five times the personnel you do.”
“I know. But so far, the brain growths are the only abnormalities we’ve been able to find, other than the obvious physical changes.” Youssouf sighed. “We’re not even positive the growths will show on scan before the other changes start to show up. But it’s the only thing we can think of. At least if we find an abnormal growth on someone’s scan, we can go ahead and isolate them, and try to figure out a way to treat them.”
“I have a feeling the treatment is going to be the hardest part.” Wildcat sounded glum, not that Armin blamed her. “Okay. I’m being called back to work. Please com us if you learn anything new. We’ll do the same.”
“Will do.” Youssouf frowned. “Hey, what’s a chief engineer doing working in the med bay? Are they that low on medical personnel?”
“Yes. We’re down to one RN and Dr. Ngalo. Everyone with any medical training at all is being drafted to help cover the med bay. Especially since all beds are full and then some.” A horrific gurgling scream sounded in the background. “Shit. I have to go. We have to intubate Niro. Wildcat out.”
The link cut off. The echoes of the shouts and that awful, wet howl rang in the sudden quiet.
After a few stunned seconds, everyone started moving again. Youssouf and Jemima settled at the workstation to hammer out a scanning schedule while Armin and Mandala prepared the two stretchers for transport to medical. No one spoke, but Armin knew the same terrible thought was foremost in everyone’s mind, just as it was in his: if this thing had already begun spreading on the Peregrine, what hope did any of them have of stopping it before it got out of control? And if that happened, if the contagion took the Peregrine down and moved into the world beyond . . .
Armin rubbed his arms against the chill the idea brought with it. They’d all have to hope Dr. Ngalo, Captain Escalano, and the officers could keep enough control over their people to prevent panicked personnel from stealing a lifeboat and sneaking off to the mainland. This was no longer a simple matter of saving themselves here on BT3, or even saving those on the Peregrine they’d unwittingly involved by sending Hannah upside before they’d realized what they were dealing with. The top priority now was making sure no infected persons reached the continent. If that happened, the world as they knew it was gone.
Youssouf stopped Armin with a hand on his arm as he and Mandala reached the lab door. “Scan each other for growths once you’ve scanned the bodies.” She dropped her hand. Her face was grim and lined, making her look her age for the first time in Armin’s brief acquaintance with her. “After that, come straight back here. I don’t want either of you interacting with anyone else.”
Armin understood the subtext. If the scans showed that he and Mandala were uninfected—as far as they knew—she wanted them to remain so. Guaranteed.
It made sense. There was only one problem.
“I want to check on Mo after we’ve finished in the med bay. Please,” he added when Youssouf’s expression took on the sympathetic-yet-unyielding cast he’d seen countless times before in his career. Superiors always felt for you—or said they did—but were never willing to let you have what you needed until you persuaded them. “Hannah’s pet tarantula bit him earlier, and I know they’re not particularly venomous to humans, but I’m still worried. I’d like to make sure he’s all right.”
“He could bring him on in and scan him,” Jemima suggested. “He’ll have to be scanned at some point anyway. Might as well be now.”
Youssouf threw her hands in the air. “All right. Fine. Check on Mr. Rees. After you get the scanning done on the bodies and on each other.” She pointed at Armin. “But I want you to be very, very careful, do you understand? And I want you to bring Dr. Jhut back here to the lab first.”
Mandala looked startled. “That’s not necessary. In fact, I think I ought to go with him. It’s safer for two than for one.”
“I’m armed.” Armin patted his pocket, where he’d stuffed the gun he’d taken from Gordon. “I’ll be fine.”
“Huh. Well, I’m not crazy about some upsider running around my pod with a weapon, but I also don’t want to risk losing both of our two remaining scientists instead of just one.” Dr. Youssouf aimed a glare at Mandala that made clear why she was the director of BathyTech 3. “Understand this. I’m only letting Dr. Savage-Hall check up on Mo because I get the feeling he would do it anyway.” She held up a hand, silencing Armin’s protest. “Yes, you would. Don’t lie to me. You don’t get where I am if you can’t read people. Mandala, I guess if you really want to run off and help him I can’t stop you, since I can’t afford to put anyone in lockup for disobeying me, but I need at least one of you back here in the lab. That’s all I’m gonna say.” She pressed her thumb to the auto-port panel to unlock it. It slid open. The hall beyond was dim, the light yellowish. “Be careful, you two. Com when you get there.”
“We will.” Mandala led the way out into the hall, guiding the first stretcher in front of her. Armin followed with the second stretcher. Youssouf’s stare burned into the back of his neck.
Getting to the med bay took longer than it should have, mainly because the lights had been quite faint all the way from the beginning of their journey to the end. They sputtered and flickered in a way that should have been impossible. Yet there it was. Whole stretches of hallway had gone entirely dark. In those spots, Armin was reminded of how very far they were from the world of light and warmth over seven thousand meters above.
Thankfully, medical still had full power, though the broken doors made Armin nervous. He and Mandala had to force the one that still moved out of the way in order to get the stretchers inside. While Mandala commed Youssouf to let her know they’d arrived safely, Armin rolled a crash cart in front of the opening. Mandala laughed, but the way he saw it, the dubious early warning they’d have when a hypothetical intruder had to roll the rattly, squeaky-wheeled cart aside in order to enter was better than nothing.
Scans showed the by-now-familiar growths in the brains of both dead women. Armin was relieved. It still wasn’t definitive proof, but it helped support their working theory.
Scanning their own brains was more nerve-racking.
Mandala volunteered to go first. She stretched out on the scanning couch, as self-composed as always. “All right. I’m ready when you are.”
Armin drew a breath, blew it out, and started the scanner. It circled Mandala’s skull with a faint hum. A couple of minutes later, the scan machine let out a soft chime and retracted into the wall.
Mandala sat up, her face blank but her eyes glittering with anxiety. “Well?”
Armin studied the readout and grinned. “Nothing. You’re fine.”
She slumped forward, elbows on her knees and both hands over her face. “Oh, thank God. I was terrified.”
“Well, now you know you’re in the clear, so you can relax.”
“I won’t relax until this whole nightmare is over.” Mandala stood and crossed to the scanner controls. “Your turn. Go lie down.”
And now it was Armin’s turn to be afraid. He obediently went to the couch and settled into the cushions, doing his best not to let Mandala see how his body trembled and his heart hammered. The body-conforming technology instantly hugged him in a firm but comfortable grip that prevented any movement while making sure there were no pressure points to cause pain or lesions. Since his apprehension wouldn’t change anything, he shut his eyes and breathed and did his best to relax into the artificial embrace.
It was over more quickly than he’d expected. He jumped out of the couch the moment the chime sounded, and wiped the dew of perspiration from his upper lip. “So. What does it sho
w?”
Mandala didn’t answer.
Dread wound icy fingers into Armin’s gut. Throat tight and legs shaking, he strode over to her side to look for himself. What he saw left him clinging to Mandala’s shoulder so he wouldn’t collapse.
An ugly gray-black mass sat like a fungus in the middle of Armin’s left frontal lobe, its wormlike appendages penetrating deep into his brain.
Armin stared at the readout for endless, sickening minutes, until the vile charcoal-colored blob burned itself into his retinas, tainting everything he’d ever seen or would see again for whatever remained of his life.
You are become Death, misquoted the invader in his brain. The destroyer of your world.
Armin swallowed the insane urge to laugh. He turned away from the image of the horror inside his head and the pity in Mandala’s eyes and activated his com link. “This is Dr. Savage-Hall to Dr. Youssouf.”
She answered immediately. “Youssouf here. What’s wrong?”
Mandala gripped his shoulder. Her touch was comforting. He laid his free hand over hers. “We’ve done the scans. Karen and Tsali both had growths in their brains. Mandala’s in the clear. But . . .” His throat went tight. He forced the words out anyway. “I have the growth.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Shit. I’m sorry, Armin.”
Beside him, Mandala opened her own link to Dr. Youssouf. “I have a great many questions about this. The foremost being: when and how was Armin infected? Early on seems most likely, especially considering the size of the lesion in his brain, but if that’s the case, why hasn’t he shown any of the changes the other victims showed? Also—and to my mind more importantly—why hasn’t he developed any symptoms of a large, rapidly growing, space-occupying brain lesion? Why didn’t any of them? It might be possible that one of them would’ve had a tumor before all this started, and that it was therefore actually a slow-growing lesion, but for that to be the case with all of these people is impossible.”
Armin touched his temple as the truth of that sank in. The human brain, trapped in its unyielding bony case, had nowhere to expand. A rapidly growing lesion tended to cause swelling and irreversible damage, with unmistakable accompanying physical symptoms. Loss of motor control. Seizures. Focal symptoms, very different from the hallucinations and psychosis exhibited by the victims thus far. If this thing had only recently taken root, yet had already grown to such an enormous size, he should’ve shown those symptoms. Hell, by all rights he should be dead.
Youssouf’s voice over the com startled him out of his thoughts. “That’s true. Besides which, these growths don’t look like typical slow-growing tumors on the scans. They look closer to the high-grade malignancies. Damn it, that’s a huge problem.” She went silent for a second. “Is there any edema on Armin’s scan?”
Mandala shook her head. “No. Just the growth. The surrounding brain tissue looks completely normal. Which I believe would rule out known varieties of malignancy, yes?”
“Not definitively. We’d need a biopsy for that. But on a practical level, I’ve never seen a lesion the size of the ones we’ve found present without any accompanying brain swelling.” More thoughtful quiet from Youssouf. “Well. It’s a puzzle for later. First things first. Armin, since you haven’t shown any symptoms, you’re obviously different somehow from the others. We need to figure out how. That might be the key to not only your survival, but everyone else’s.”
A thought struck Armin. “Not only that, but Mandala’s been working closely with me the whole time and hasn’t caught it. We need to find a way to figure out whether that’s because it really is passed on when the victim’s eyes begin glowing, or because she’s somehow immune. Because I don’t believe she ever looked directly at the stone, only its projected image.”
Mandala nodded. “Correct. I don’t know if we’ll be able to do that, but we have to try.”
“I’m going to isolate myself.” Armin risked a direct glance at Mandala. She looked as calm and in control as ever, which made him feel better. “Can you come and get Mandala? She shouldn’t have to go back alone. The lights are out here and there.”
Mandala opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but Jemima cut her off. “Rashmi and Ling are back. I’ll send ’em over before they get called away again. Maybe the doc can go ahead and get their scans done, then one of them can stay with you and the other can come back with Dr. Jhut?”
Armin raised his eyebrows at Mandala. She nodded. “That sounds good. Send them on over.”
“On the way,” Youssouf said. “Hang in there, Armin. We’re going to fix this. Youssouf out.”
As soon as the connection cut, Armin headed for the isolation rooms in the main part of the med bay. He felt sick with fear and unfocused anger. He wanted to believe Youssouf was right and they could find a way to reverse what was happening to him. Realistically, though, he knew the odds were heavily against it. They would all pay lip service to curing the infected, because they must. But in their heart of hearts, they all had to know it wasn’t going to happen.
He didn’t voice any of his bleak thoughts. No need to make Mandala think he’d lost hope. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he had, even though he saw no reason to believe he’d ever leave BathyTech 3 alive.
Mandala trailed behind him. She didn’t lock the iso room door behind him. “You haven’t shown any of the signs. I don’t see any reason to make you a prisoner here.”
He smiled, keeping his gaze trained on the floor. Illogical or not, he didn’t dare look her in the eye now that he knew. “Thank you for that. Promise me that you’ll tell whoever is here after you leave to lock this door the moment I show any of the changes, though. All right?”
She didn’t hesitate, for which he was profoundly grateful. “I will. For your safety as much as everyone else’s.” She stepped forward and planted one open palm on the glass. “But Armin, your case truly is different. For some reason, you have the growth—if it really is a physical growth—but not the psychosis or the changes we’ve seen in the others. I can’t help but believe that if it hasn’t happened yet, it isn’t going to.”
“I hope you’re right.” Something else she said made him look up long enough to catch the familiar glint of scientific excitement in her eyes. “What do you mean, if it’s a physical growth? It’s clearly not anything we’re familiar with, but it’s there. We all saw it on the scans.”
“Yes, we did. But just think about it for a moment.” She dropped her hand from the glass and tapped her fingers against her chin. “Like I said before, it’s hardly possible that everyone who showed the lesions could have already had the exact same slow-growing tumor that just happens to look like a high-grade malignant tumor. So we must assume that the growths and the physical changes are related, and began concurrently. Which means the growths took root within the last week, at the outside.”
Armin got it then, and understood the enormity of the questions raised
If this was a true physical growth, I should be comatose, or dead. Ergo, it isn’t physical.
A wave of dizziness rolled over him. He stumbled to the bed, sat down, and rested his head in both hands. “If the growths aren’t real in the physical sense, then what in the hell are they?”
Mandala let out a short, sharp laugh. “I have no idea.”
The rattle of the crash cart effectively redirected the flow of Armin’s thoughts. Adrenaline shot through him. He jumped up and lunged forward, fumbling for the door handle.
Mandala shook her head, her lips curving into an amused smile. “Relax. It’s just our intrepid security team.” She raised her voice. “Hold on a moment. I’ll move that cart for you.”
Relieved, Armin slumped against the wall. Christ. He should’ve known. He walked over to the sink and peered into the plain little mirror. His reflection stared back at him, eyes big and black and full of shock.
They didn’t glow. Thank God.
Rashmi and Ling followed Mandala into the room. Ling nodded at him, her dark eyes cutting side
long toward him for the briefest of seconds. Rashmi spared him a smile and a “hey” before moving on to the other side of the bay.
Being on the wrong side of a closed isolation door felt very strange. And lonely. With all the time in the world suddenly at his disposal, worry about Mo leaped from the back of Armin’s mind to center stage. He activated his com link. “Dr. Savage-Hall for Maximo Rees.”
He waited, watching through the open door across the room while Ling stretched out on the scanner couch. Mo didn’t answer.
God. Not again.
“Mo, this is Armin. Please answer.”
Nothing.
Armin waited. Across the med bay, Mandala finished Ling’s scan and studied the readout.
Armin rubbed his eyes. “Armin Savage-Hall for Maximo Rees. Mo, damn it, please. I need to know you’re all right.”
The silence on the other end stretched on while Ling moved away and Rashmi lay down.
No one was watching. Acting on instinct, Armin opened the door, ran silently across the bay, and slipped into the hall.
All the way to Mo’s quarters, through the stretches of deserted hallway dimly lit by guttering yellow lights, Armin questioned his spur-of-the-moment decision to sneak away from the med bay. Mandala’s theory about the contagion—whatever it might be, exactly—being passed on through the glow in the eyes was the best one they had thus far. He told himself it was fine for him to do this, that he wouldn’t pose any danger to Mo or anyone else since his eyes didn’t glow. But they had no way to prove or disprove that theory. If Mo hadn’t been infected, was Armin about to hand him a death sentence?
You’ve slept with him. Been intimate with him. And he’s shown no sign of the changes.
The memory of Mo staring blankly at the frozen 3-D display, bleeding from a spider bite, prodded Armin like knives. Was that the first sign? Had there been signs before that? Signs he should’ve seen, but hadn’t?
