Down

by Ally Blue

  Because you’re important to me, said the faint flush in Armin’s cheeks and the way his body leaned into Mo’s like a sunflower toward the light.

  Something in Mo’s chest drew tight. Since he didn’t know what to say—and wasn’t sure he could answer anyway past the sudden ache in his throat—he slipped a hand around the back of Armin’s head and planted soft kisses on his eyelids. Armin’s breath hitched. He smiled, and the warmth in Mo’s gut grew.

  He drew a deep breath. Let it out. “So. If you don’t know if you’re contagious, do you have any idea how this thing might be passed on?”

  “Yes. That is, we have a working theory.” Armin clutched Mo’s hips, fingers clenching and relaxing, over and over. Nervous. “Mandala’s theory is that it might be passed on via light wave radiation when a person’s eyes begin to glow.”

  Mo ran that through his brain and came out the other side intrigued. “Huh. Interesting. You’re pretty sure?”

  “We’re not sure of anything. But that theory fits the facts, yes.”

  Mo wasn’t a scientist. But he kept up with enough journals to know the idea was unprecedented. He grinned, excited in spite of everything. “I’ll get scanned later. Let’s go check out my video first.”

  Armin’s eyes widened. “But—”

  “But nothing.” Dizziness washed over Mo like a tidal wave. His vision sparkled. He hid it by sitting down. He needed to get dressed anyway. “If I go to the med bay right now, I’m gonna end up having to stay because Youssouf’ll think I’m a danger to myself.” He shook out his shirt and pulled it over his head. “And hell, I can’t really prove I’m not, can I?”

  “True. Though I don’t believe you are.”

  Armin sounded amused. Good. That was way better than angry and defeated.

  “Thanks.” He reached for his pants, shoved his feet into them, and did his best to get them on without standing. Upright seemed like a good way to pass out right now. He swallowed bile and made himself keep talking. “So, yeah. I don’t think we can spare the time for me to hang out in the med bay right now. We need to watch the video, then show it to Youssouf and Dr. Jhut if it’s worth seeing. Then we can figure out what we need to do.”

  “Hm.” Armin sat beside Mo, slipped an arm around him, and helped him lift his hips enough to pull his pants up that last little bit. “And what about you?”

  The urge to play innocent was strong, but Mo knew better. He sighed. “Hannah has an antivenom kit in her quarters. You can use medical override to get it.”

  “I will, then.” To Mo’s surprise, Armin leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his mouth. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Mo stole another kiss, because Armin was right there and he couldn’t help himself.

  “For not being a stubborn ass. For letting me take care of you instead of fighting me.” Armin smiled. He lifted his eyes, just for a second, and Mo caught a glimpse of those drowning-dark depths.

  They didn’t glow.

  The halls between the go-cart bay and Mo’s quarters were dim and deserted, thankfully. Mo didn’t want to run into anyone. What the hell would he say?

  Inside his room, he stretched out on the bed, sipped a pouch of vitamin water, and pretended not to worry while Armin went to fetch the antivenom from Hannah’s quarters.

  Armin’s return after roughly ten minutes that felt more like ten years was a huge relief. Mo pushed off the bed, stumbled across the room, and draped his arms over Armin’s shoulders.

  Eyes averted, Armin let out a nervous little laugh. “What are you doing?”

  “Shut up.” Mo silenced the protest he knew was coming with a kiss. He cupped the back of Armin’s head in one palm to hold him still, savoring the soft, wet heat of Armin’s mouth and the slick push of his tongue. The scrape of stubble against Mo’s raw skin hurt, but he didn’t care. Armin’s kiss hadn’t changed. His touch hadn’t changed. Nothing about him had changed, in spite of the thing growing in his brain, and that gave Mo hope.

  When the kiss broke, Armin rested his forehead against Mo’s. His eyes stayed shut, but he was smiling. “Did you miss me that much?”

  “I don’t like you being away from me right now. It scares me. It feels like you’re not coming back.”

  Armin’s smile vanished. His eyes opened and focused on Mo’s chest. His unhappiness radiated through the tight muscles under Mo’s hands, but Mo didn’t regret his answer. If he demanded honesty from Armin—and he did—he had to offer the same.

  “I wish I could promise I’d always come back. But we both know I can’t do that. If I start changing . . .”

  He didn’t have to finish. Mo swallowed around the cold, bitter lump in his throat and nodded. “I know. Just promise you’ll try.”

  “I can promise that.” Armin’s dark eyes flicked upward long enough to look into his for a brief second. Just long enough for Mo to see a bottomless anguish that pierced him deep. “And I want you to promise never to sneak off like you did today. I thought you were dead.”

  Shame brought a rush of blood to Mo’s cheeks. He gritted his teeth through the intense burn, because he’d brought it on himself, and right now he thought he damn well deserved it.

  “I swear I won’t.” He raked his fingers through Armin’s hair. “I’m sorry. It was so weird. I felt like I had to. That’s not an excuse. It’s just . . . what I felt like.”

  “Well. It’s done now, and you’re back safe.” Armin took his hand, led him to the bed, and pushed him gently to the mattress. “Now sit.”

  He watched while Armin sat next to him, opened the kit, and took out the little bottle of sublingual antivenom pills. He took the two tablets Armin handed him and tucked them under his tongue. He scrunched his nose as they dissolved and the bitter taste flooded his mouth.

  Armin was already pulling on gloves and opening a bottle of clear liquid. “It’s purified water with topical pain reliever in it,” he explained in answer to Mo’s suspicious look. He spread a plastic-backed pad on Mo’s pillow. “Now lie down and shut your eyes. I’m going to wash your face with this and apply an anti-inflammatory cream.”

  “Oh, joy.” Mo didn’t look forward to it. But he did as Armin said, because the pain in his face and neck had grown so huge he wanted to run away from it. Since that was impossible, he was stuck with Armin’s method.

  Armin had a skilled, careful touch, and the stuff in the wash cooled the burn in Mo’s flesh from inferno to dying coals. Still, by the time Armin patted him dry, his head and neck felt like one giant, swollen, throbbing ache. He dug his fingers into the bed and managed not to squirm while Armin spread ointment as gently as possible over his skin.

  When it was over, Mo let out the breath he’d held for the last half a minute or so. Sweat gathered on his chest and fine tremors shook him from head to foot. He opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling. “Fuck. Let’s not ever do that again.”

  “We may have to do it again in a few hours, but hopefully it won’t be as bad the next time.” Armin rose, peeling off the gloves and tossing them in the trash. “I think you should rest for a while before we watch your video.”

  Rest. The mere idea dragged Mo’s eyelids downward like a physical pull. Apparently his impromptu adventure had drained him more than he’d realized. His whole body buzzed with exhaustion. He wanted to give in to it more than he’d ever wanted anything.

  Unfortunately, BathyTech had kind of a situation going, and if his walker vid could help fix it, then they were damn well watching it right this second. He’d hold his eyes open with his fucking fingers if he had to.

  Since he didn’t want to give Armin any more ammunition for his making Mo rest campaign, Mo merely sat up, shook his head, and smiled. “Naw, I’m fine. We need to go ahead and do this in case there’s something important on there.”

  Armin’s lowered brow and pursed lips said he knew exactly what Mo was doing, but he didn’t argue. Mo was glad. He liked to think they were on the same page about what needed to be done.

/>   He looked over at the dresser. His walker helmet sat there with Daisy’s corpse huddled like so much trash in the lower curve. The thought of touching her dead body made him sick.

  Because you killed her. You’re racked with guilt.

  But they didn’t have time for his guilt, or his tiredness, or the nausea crawling up his throat. So he stood, shuffled over to his dresser, and picked up his helmet before he could change his mind. Armin opened Daisy’s cage for him, and he slid her inside. Her body dropped to the bottom, brushing against the leaves with a dry whisper that broke his heart because it made him think of Hannah and how much Daisy’s death would upset her.

  If she survived. God.

  Armin put an arm around Mo’s shoulders. “Here. Sit down and let’s get this done.”

  “Yeah.” Mo let Armin lead him to the desk. He lowered himself into the chair and set the helmet on the sync plate. “Computer. Download walker video from today and display in 3-D, one hundred ten percent magnification.”

  “Yes, Mo.”

  There was a brief pause. Mo frowned. As short as the vid was, the download and display should’ve been instantaneous to the human eye.

  Unless your eyes aren’t entirely human anymore.

  Sweat popped out on his upper lip and trickled down his back. Jesus.

  The 3-D emerged from the desktop before he could think too hard about how much he might or might not be changing. Mo squinted at it. “Computer. Bring the room lights down to twenty percent.”

  “Yes, Mo.” The lights dimmed until the alien vista of rocks and mud revealed in the glow of his helmet lights showed up clearly enough for them to see any important details on the display.

  Armin leaned closer. His face shone with curiosity in the bluish glow from the vid. “Where is this? The location isn’t displaying.”

  “I know. I have no idea why not.” Mo sifted through his vague, scattered memories. “Richards Deep. Not where we found the rock, though. Someplace else. But I think . . .” He shook his head, as if he could rattle the missing pieces out of their hiding places and out into the open. “I don’t know why, but I feel sure the area I was in connects to the place we found the rock.”

  From the corner of Mo’s eye, he saw Armin’s gaze cut sideways toward him. Wondering. Assessing. “Why did you go there?”

  That was the hundred-million-dollar question, wasn’t it? And Armin wasn’t going to like the answer. Hell, Mo didn’t like it either. But it was the only one he had.

  “Daisy told me to.” He made his confession without looking away from the display of his lights on the previously unseen path into Richards Deep. “When she bit me, I could hear her talking in my head, and she told me I would see things there that no one else had ever seen.”

  Armin didn’t look at Daisy’s still-open cage, but Mo could feel him wanting to. “Mo, you do know that’s impossible, right?”

  “Really?” Mo shot him a sidelong glance. “Bet you’d’ve said that about people growing pointed teeth and glowing eyes a couple of weeks ago.”

  A wry half smile twisted Armin’s lips. “Touché. Still, you must admit it’s pretty odd.”

  “Yeah. But I know what I heard.” He’d hear Daisy’s thick, cracked spider-voice in his nightmares for the rest of his life, feel the truth in his marrow when her venom flowed into him. “I remember thinking that something was speaking through her.”

  Armin rubbed his chin. “It could have been some sort of unusual reaction to the venom.” He didn’t sound like he believed that any more than Mo did.

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Mo examined Armin’s profile, soft and ethereal in the cool light from the 3-D. “Daisy’s eyes were glowing, Armin. And she had the longer legs and the teeth. Well, the fangs. I know that sounds crazy, but she did.”

  Armin swallowed, his throat working. “I don’t quite know what to think of that.”

  “Yeah. I hear you.” Mo felt a faint smile curve his lips. At least Armin hadn’t dismissed what he’d said out of hand. “Maybe the vid’ll help clear things up. Anything I saw ought to show up on there.”

  Since there was no arguing with that, they both watched in silence.

  It went on for a long time. Eventually, Mo told the computer to speed it up, scanning for anomalous sounds or images. Even watching that way, they must’ve sat there for an hour and a half before something finally caught Mo’s attention.

  “Computer. Slow vid to normal.” The display went back to normal speed. The lights on the video bounced, and Mo could hear himself panting. “What the hell? Am I running?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No.”

  On the vid, Mo ran on. Safe in his quarters, he watched with a growing sense of familiarity as a weird light-but-not-light glowed black-on-black from the seabed. He grasped the chair arms hard as a feeling of impending revelation rolled over him.

  “This is it.” His voice sounded small and scared. “The thing. It’s coming.”

  Armin said nothing, but he took Mo’s hand, wound their fingers together, and held on tight. Mo clung to him, grateful for the human contact. It gave him an anchor in a universe that seemed to be drifting apart piece by piece.

  On the display, a chasm gaped like a stony mouth. A darkness deep as the ocean poured out of it. Somehow, impossibly, the blackness illuminated rocky slopes, steps, and smooth inclines leading down into the unknown. Video-Mo moved closer. Looked down. Shapes drifted lazily in the space between the obsidian walls. Deep down, beyond the swimming silhouettes, the not-light radiated from a fuzzy blue-black point that defied focus. Mo’s eye skidded off it like it wasn’t there. As Mo watched, a new shape swam upward from the depths directly toward them, its long teeth bared and its green eyes aglow with purplish-blue sparks. Video-Mo screamed, turned, and ran the other way.

  “Oh.” Armin reached his free hand toward the 3-D, as if he could touch it. “Mermaids.”

  “Mermaids.” Mo watched the helmet lights bob as he ran away. Something nagged at his mind, though he couldn’t pinpoint it. “Computer. Go back two minutes. No, five.”

  “Yes, Mo.”

  The vid jumped back in time to Mo jogging along the underwater path. When he reached the edge of the chasm, he told the computer to slow the vid to one quarter speed.

  Armin glanced at him. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’ll know when I see it.”

  He studied the vid in silent concentration. When he found what he was looking for, the slo-mo made it obvious. “Computer. Zoom in on upper right hand of screen. One hundred seventy-five percent magnification.”

  “Yes, Mo.”

  The object grew larger. Large enough to make out exactly what it was. Armin drew in a sharp breath. “Oh my God.”

  Mo nodded. “Yeah.”

  There on a ledge on the other side of the chasm lay a walker suit.

  Mo reset the video so they could watch the important part again in higher magnification. It didn’t really help, though the sight of the mind-bending void just beyond his video self’s virtual boots made his pulse race with a half-remembered terror.

  Or was it anticipation?

  “Who in the hell could it be?” Armin leaned over Mo’s shoulder, staring at the body on the screen with intense concentration. “And how in the name of all the gods and devils did they get out there without anyone knowing it? And when?”

  “Who knows? The only time the alarms were off was when I turned them off, and nobody would’ve had time to get out there without a go-cart. I don’t know if they could get to that spot even with a cart.” Mo stopped the vid and glanced sideways, admiring the graceful arch of Armin’s neck. Maybe this goddamn contagion would magically go away and leave him alone. “But there’s one way to find out who it is.”

  “Yes. Go get the body.” Armin straightened up, both hands opening and closing, opening and closing. “It couldn’t be Ashlyn.”

  He phrased it as a statement, but Mo heard the question behin
d it. He touched Armin’s back. “She couldn’t see. Even if she could find her way to the go-cart bay, she never would’ve been able to get the walker on and get outside.”

  Armin didn’t answer, and Mo knew he was thinking of the missing walker suits on the Varredura Longa. If those crew members could take walkers and vanish into the sea in spite of having no eyes, Ashlyn Timms definitely could.

  Mo hoped like hell she hadn’t.

  “Mo?” Armin’s voice was subdued, like his mind was still on the body that might be Ashlyn’s. “Why did you scream?”

  Yes, Mo. Why?

  His inner voice had started to sound as thick and cracked as Daisy’s. Which couldn’t mean anything good.

  “I’m not sure. Everything’s sort of a blur. But it’s something to do with that chasm. That blurry spot at the bottom. I think it’s connected to the mermaids, but I can’t remember how.” He thought for a second, putting himself back in that strange, surreal moment. “I think . . . I think that mermaid spoke to me.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Armin studying him with a palpable blend of curiosity and concern. “Did you happen to have the outside cam on as well? Maybe it would’ve picked up what the mermaid said, if you’re correct. I know the built-in cam isn’t configured to record sound outside the suit.”

  “No. There’s no record of an outside cam vid. But it doesn’t matter.” Mo chewed his bottom lip for a second. This was going to sound at least as nuts as Daisy talking to him. But what the hell, right? Armin had gone along for the ride so far. Which only made him more perfect in Mo’s mind. “I heard it in my head, Armin. It spoke to me telepathically.”

  Armin didn’t answer. Instead, he looped an arm around Mo’s shoulders, bent, and kissed the top of his head. For a small, painful moment, Mo was transported back to his childhood—before the blackout, before the deaths, before he’d learned to kill—to the time when his parents had kissed him like that before he went to sleep at night. His throat constricted and his eyes burned. Then Armin let him go, the moment passed, and he breathed again.