Endless Night

by Andrea Dionne

  She couldn't remember anything beyond shame and fear that she'd indulged herself in an orgy of pleasure with him the night before and then worried about the consequences. “We shouldn't have done that. It's against company law. They'll come down on us ... me, with both feet.” She frowned. “I'd meant to ask you not to ... not to do this again, to ask you to keep it quiet."

  Caleb turned to glare at her. “You meant to sweep me under the rug. Is that about the size of it?"

  Breanna stared at him in dismay. “I'm only saying it was an understandable lapse. There's no reason why we should throw away our careers over it."

  “Fuck the company and their damned laws!” Caleb growled. He surged toward her, gripping her shoulders and pressing her back against the wall. “I enjoy fucking you. I've wanted to from the moment I set eyes on you, and you enjoy it as much as I do. And no damn company is going to tell me who I can be with, or how, or when, or where.

  “Don't think for one moment I'm going to pretend this didn't happen, or that I didn't thoroughly enjoy it—I want you just as much right now as I did last night, and just a few minutes ago. And as long as you respond to me like you just did, you can tell any damn lie you like, but I know you want it too."

  From out of no where, the urge to cry washed over Breanna. She felt her eyes fill with shameful tears. Caleb stared at her for several moments and finally thrust himself away from her, raking a shaking hand through his hair.

  He spotted his weapon lying on the floor where he'd dropped it when he'd been overcome with his need to crawl deeply inside Breanna. He leaned down and scooped it from the floor.

  “Sorry, Captain. Didn't mean to encroach. I guess we should get back to business, huh?” He muttered and stalked away, leaving her where she stood slumped against the wall.

  Breanna watched him go, feeling a fresh surge of shame wash over her. He was disgusted with her. She knew it and moreover, that he had every right to. She had demanded that he assuage her needs and then, after exerting no control over her own lust, had preached to him about respecting their positions.

  She felt sickened by her lack of control. She'd vowed to herself that it wouldn't happen again, and it had—and it was at least as much her fault as his, perhaps more. Maybe, if she hadn't egged him on, he would have recovered his own self-control, but she hadn't allowed him to. Why had she chosen to torment herself by appointing him as her partner in their search? She could have chosen someone else. She'd just had to prove she was immune to him, and that she would not again be tempted to cross the line.

  Her thoughts shifted abruptly from self-reproach to a previous thought.

  She'd chosen to pair with him to search....to search for the missing men.

  What the hell was she doing?

  How could she have gotten so criminally distracted in the middle of a sortie?

  Distantly she heard Caleb's voice calling to her from further ahead, breaking into her confusing thoughts. Shaking herself, she pushed away from the wall and followed him, still feeling oddly detached and vacillating about the mission that had been instigated on her orders. Fear suddenly gripped her tightly, however, as his call came to her again, urgent this time.

  * * * *

  As Caleb strode down the corridor, irritation at himself settled over him in a silent, darkened mood. How could he have let things go so far? He hadn't intended to push her. He'd known Breanna was on edge already, terrified that she'd lost control before and anxious about the repercussions. As much as he'd wanted to keep battering at her resistance, he'd realized he had to give her time to grow accustomed to the idea, time to realize that she could trust him not to use their relationship against her. But what had started out as mere teasing had escalated into mindless, animalistic rutting.

  Normally, he didn't act so recklessly, and, for that matter, neither did Breanna.

  He couldn't deny he'd wanted her in the worst kind way for weeks. He'd been well aware that he'd been building to the point of no return, that it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge, and when Breanna had responded to him, he'd completely lost it. But they'd thoroughly exhausted themselves the night before. As much as he'd enjoyed it, he ought to have had more self-control over his wayward libido when they'd sated themselves twice only the night before. Instead, he'd had even less control, and more than that, had felt a primal urge to stake his permanent claim on her—whether she was in agreement or not.

  Was there something more to their loss of control than an extreme, but completely natural, attraction between them? Or was it just his imagination that not only they, but the others, as well, had been behaving beyond the norm—beginning almost with the moment they first stepped on board?

  Maybe Breanna was right and it wasn't just a crazy theory that something could be affecting them much the way the radios were affected.

  It seemed improbable, but then there had to be some kind of explanation. He knew he wasn't behaving as he normally did, even while he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was almost like the veneer of civilized behavior was being stripped away, layer by layer, until he—until all of them—were becoming more—primal, subject to instincts and emotions and unable to tame them with logic, or training.

  He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that at first he didn't notice the slight drop in temperature of the air around him. It took several moments for him to realize that the temperature had dropped so rapidly he'd begun shivering. “What the hell?” he muttered, stopping abruptly and dismissing his internal dialogue.

  The air—something about it felt so familiar.

  Caleb peered into the shadows beyond the reach of the feeble overhead light, wondering if there something waiting in the darkness. He saw nothing and finally decided the perception had only been imagination.

  But what had caused the change in the air around him, the sense that he was not alone?

  Peering into the shadows again, he took a step closer. A bone deep chill arrested him, freezing him to the spot so that he could not move. He cocked his head, straining to hear the slightest whisper of sound.

  And then he heard it—a metallic scratching like Osborne had described to them over and over again—or at least the way he had imagined it had sounded. He tried to move closer to where the sound seemed to have originated, but he found he couldn't—it was just too cold.

  Although he held his breath, listening intently for several moments, the scratching noise wasn't repeated. Had he just imagined the entire episode, or had it really happened? The realization suddenly hit him that Breanna was alone—whether or not that was a good thing he couldn't determine for the moment.

  Backing up, Caleb aimed his weapon toward the space before him. He called out to Breanna, even though every instinct inside him told him not to give himself away—but he couldn't let her walk into danger, not if he could prevent it.

  The lights around him dimmed then blinked off, then on. Please don't let them go out, he prayed fervently. He'd be nearly helpless in the dark. He'd left his helmet with its light in the cafeteria.

  When Breanna didn't answer, an entirely different fear washed over her. He'd left her alone. He shouldn't have left her alone.

  He called out to her again, this time with more urgency in his voice.

  And then the lights went out.

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Breanna raced down the corridor at Caleb's call. How could they have been so reckless as to have split up? That was what had gotten Zane killed—He had been alone. And now so was Caleb. Nothing could happen to him. She wouldn't let anything happen to him.

  She was so absorbed was in getting to Caleb, she scarcely noticed when the air in the hall dropped drastically in temperature until it began to penetrate her suit. It was freezing, she realized abruptly, as if the air had never been warmed. Her breath came out in rapid, white puffs.

  Wary now, Breanna slowed her pace as she reached a turn in the hall. She knew Caleb couldn't be too far ahead of her now, and whatever mess he was in, she
didn't want to rush right into the middle of it.

  Peering around the corner, she immediately encountered solid wall of blackness. Her first thought was that she had missed a turn and had only come up to a black wall. Except for the fact that she could sense, rather than actually see, a presence inside the void, she wouldn't have believed it wasn't a wall.

  Stepping cautiously closer to the darkness, Breanna extended her hand and tried to touch the dark mass. Her heart leap painfully in her chest as her fingers slid into the darkness. She snatched her hand quickly back. Unbelievably it seemed colder there than it felt where she stood.

  She didn't want to go any further, but Caleb had to be somewhere ahead of her, in the darkness ... alone ... well, almost. It would've been better if he was alone instead of with that. Before she had time to really consider the consequences, Breanna rounded the corner and stepped into the blackness. She looked back, expecting to see the light in the hall behind her, but there was nothing. It was as if there had never been anything, any light there at all.

  Reaching out, she placed a hand on the wall so she wouldn't become completely disoriented and moved slowly down the hall, counting each step she took so it would be easier to know how far she'd gone and how far it would be to go back.

  The slightest sound of a breath being drawn and a shift in the space before her caused Breanna to jerk to a halt. She backed up, intending to press herself against the wall, when she bumped into a warm solid object.

  “Oh God,” she breathed at Caleb's soft curse. Breanna clutched at him, trying to assure herself he was still whole, unhurt. She didn't know how she had managed it, but she'd passed him.

  Fighting the urge to pull Breanna tightly against him, Caleb clasped her hand tightly. He peered toward the point where he knew she was standing, but he could see nothing even though she was within arm's length of him. It was as if he had his eyes closed only worse, much worse. A blink of the eyes couldn't banish this darkness. And Breanna had walked right into it.

  He had to prepare her for what was with them, or what he thought was with them. “You shouldn't have come. I told you to stay back."

  Breanna felt her way along his arm and moved closer. “But ... you called me. I heard you call me."

  Caleb frowned. He remembered then that he'd warned her away after the blackness had descended. Neither light nor sound penetrated it? “Never mind that now. Listen to me. I think something's here, watching us,” he whispered.

  Breanna shivered at the ominous feeling his words evoked. She opened her mouth to ask him exactly what he meant by that, but thought better of it. It was stupid to make any more noise than was absolutely necessary.

  Instead, she turned away from him, trying to penetrate the blackness and determine if there was a threat, and if so, where it might be. She'd passed Caleb, though she had no idea how. She couldn't be certain whatever it was that threatened wasn't behind them. Suddenly she felt an abrupt change in the air around her. The cold around them deepened.

  “Captain,” a voice whispered from deeper into the darkness, beckoning her to come closer. Breanna shook her head, trying to banish the strange urge she had to answer the call, chill bumps spreading over her body as the voice called again ... and again. Each call gained in its pulling strength, until it was all she could do not to scream a response and run towards it with arms open in welcome.

  Against her will, without even realizing it at first, she took a step toward whatever it was that beckoned. When she realized what she'd done, she pulled her hand from Caleb's clasp and clamped her them over her ears, trying to block out the seductive call.

  “Captain.” it whispered again.

  A cold sweat broke on her forehead. She took another step forward, her body resisting her mind's control, each at war with the other.

  Caleb felt Breanna move away from him, moving forward with halting steps—as if she couldn't help but go further into the darkness. He reached for where he estimated her arm to be. Finding it, he gripped it firmly and pulled her back against him. “Breanna, what are you doing?” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  She said nothing, only continued struggling to pull from his grasp. He shook her, as if trying to awaken someone in a deep sleep. Yet still she struggled to free herself of him, wiggling and squirming in his arms. A few moments later, apparently deciding that tactic would gain her no ground, she went limp, collapsing lifelessly in his arms. Her gun clattered noisily to the floor, skidding away from them.

  “Breanna.” He shook her again, realizing abruptly that she wasn't playing possum. He was getting worried now. Not only did she not respond to his shaking and calling her, but it felt as if the life had been drained from her body. He couldn't hear her breathing, couldn't feel her warmth ... her heartbeat.

  “Breanna!"

  As suddenly as they'd gone out, the lights came on. Caleb blinked, squinting his eyes at the sudden glaring onslaught of light, peering down at Breanna, his vision slightly blurred.

  Feeling strangely weak and disoriented, Breanna struggled to stand on her own when she realized Caleb was holding her up.

  “What happened?” she asked groggily once she had righted herself, rubbing her eyes and peering up at him.

  Caleb didn't answer her. His attention was transfixed on a spot beyond her. Feeling the hair prickle on the back of her neck, Breanna turned to see what he was staring at.

  “Oh my God!” she gasped, and searched frantically for her weapon. She saw the weapon was on the floor a few feet from her. She'd never make it to the gun in time. She stood rooted to the floor, waiting almost breathlessly to see what Caleb would do.

  But Caleb did nothing, simply continued to stare, transfixed. “Caleb ... do something!” she shouted, pointing to the gun he held loosely in his hands.

  Caleb looked at Breanna, then at the gun he held. It would do them no good. It was far too late to take that kind of action and there was no chance of running.

  “Oh shit!” he ground out, grabbing Breanna and shoving her behind him protectively.

  * * * *

  “Me and Amy didn't find nothing,” Angus growled angrily. All that time had been wasted. They had searched the docks, the kitchen, the sleeping quarters, the bridge, and countless other rooms and had come up with nothing.

  “Same with the rest of us,” Luis said quietly. He sent Amy an angry look, though she ignored it and him, choosing instead to straighten her pallet on the floor. It still irked him that she had gone off with Angus instead of him. She was avoiding him and he wanted to know why, but he was too irritated right now to have a rational conversation with her.

  “I don't know where they could've gone. Me and Ahmad thought that they might've taken one of the escape pods but none of ‘em were missing ... at least as far as we could tell,” Corbett said to no one in particular. He rubbed the rebel flag tattooed on his forearm. From what Luis could tell, it was always bothering him—though whether it was because of pain or regret, he couldn't tell. He sure wouldn't ruin his body by getting one of those.

  “Has anyone told Captain Delaney of our findings?” Amy suddenly asked. She and Angus hadn't been able to reach the Captain or Caleb and she had the nagging, uncomfortable feeling that no one else had either.

  No one answered her question. They stood in small clumps, not saying anything, not making the slightest sound.

  Amy straightened from her pallet and walked over to the men. They looked guiltily at her then away. “Has anyone talked to her or Caleb since we first left? Anyone seen them?"

  Ahmad cleared his throat and spoke up, “I ain't seen them."

  James Corbett, who'd been his partner, nodded his head in agreement.

  Amy studied the rest of the group, listening to their answers. Each member had a similar answer—they hadn't seen them or heard from them for several hours.

  “Well, if they haven't come back yet, they must still be searching their levels,” she said, fighting the fear this new development caused in her. Where would they be i
f neither Captain Delaney or Caleb came back? Up shit creek without a paddle, that's where.

  “They ... were supposed to ... to search the lower three levels,” Eric Mason stuttered nervously, his bald head glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, his eyes darting to each face, which turned to him at the comment.

  “Yeah. Those were the smallest, so I guess they thought they could handle all three,” Fenton's gravelly voice broke in. He looked as rough as his voice sounded. Apparently he'd searched through one of the larger levels.

  “I say we go down there and find them then,” Angus boomed, hefting his gun for emphasis. He always preferred taking action to standing around doing nothing. It made the time pass faster.

  “What if ... what if somethin’ got ‘em ... and ... and it tries to get us too,” Eric said. Everyone treated him with a look of disgust at his cowardice.

  “That's just a chance we'll have to take. But if you're too scared to come with us, you can stay here by yourself,” Amy said, turning on her heel to leave the cafeteria. “I'm not going to wait around to see if they turn up dead. I'm going to find them and help them if it's not too late.” Angus and Luis were right behind her. The other members of the squad followed more slowly, somewhat reluctant to thrust themselves in harm's way if it wasn't absolutely necessary, but they went nonetheless.

  * * * *

  “Help ... me,” the voice whispered in Breanna's and Caleb's ears, though they didn't see its lips move. Breanna huddled closer to Caleb, staring in horrified fascination as Osborne shuffled toward them with agonizingly slow steps.

  His boots scraped noisily on the floor as he approached them, his gun pointed in their direction. The thick dark hair which had covered most of his body was gone now, like it had been burned off, though his skin remained relatively undamaged. Large red circles marred the exposed flesh of his arms and face, and appeared to be not burns from heat as she'd first thought, but wind burns like a person would get from strong, cold bursts of air. His eyes looked to be filled with blood, though none spilled forth. Breanna wondered briefly how he could see them when his vision must be either destroyed or severely hampered by the blood.