Fluency (18 page)

This room, like many in the storage hold, was vast. There was another door that opened into the room about 40 feet on the other side of Tom, closer to the deck transport. She wanted to kick he
rself. If only she’d dragged him that 40 feet farther or noticed the door sooner.

Old doubts prickled at her. She forced herself to ignore them and pounded back up to the group. “I’ve got a plan!”

“Oh, yeah?” Walsh called. “Let’s hear it!”

She looked down. A creature lashed its tail at her, way too close for comfort. She jumped back just in time, then bludgeoned the animal. Unless she got the angle just right, brute clubbing was far more effective at taking a nepatrox out than the pistol was.

“We’re going through this door. Ajaya, you’ll get there first, so you’ll have your hand on the door control and shut that door the second the last man is through. That’s your job.”

Ajaya nodded crisply. “Affirmative.”

“Ron, you’re the fastest runner. Once you’re through, I need you to head straight for the other door that opens to the corridor.” She gestured behind her with the pistol, toward Tom and the deck transport beyond him. “Don’t look back. Just get there and open it. I want you to lay down cover fire from there.”

Gibbs met her eyes and bobbed his head. “Understood.”

“Walsh, Alan, your task is to kill anything that gets through that door before it closes.”

“And what is your part in this plan, Holloway?” Walsh ho
llered.

“I’m going for Tom.”

Alan was shaking his head. “Jane—”

She cut him off with an order, “Spread out. You’re too bunched up. Give yourself room to move. Start moving toward the door.”

She clubbed a small one, then grit her teeth and fired at one that was getting too close to Alan. Her aim was true. It fell over on its side.

Alan jumped. “Jesus Christ, Jane.”

She ignored him and fired at one scuttling down the corridor, but all she got was a hollow clicking noise. She made an angry, frustrated sound. “I’m reloading! Someone shoot the one that’s going for Tom!” She fumbled with the release until the spent cartridge clattered to the floor.

There was hissing and magenta and orange flapping at her knee.
Dammit!
She hopped back and raised the canister a fraction of a second too late. The creature’s tail was quicker. It slashed at her leg. She grunted in disbelief before smashing the animal to bits.

“Jane, are you hit?”

“No! Stop looking at me and concentrate on what you’re doing!” She leveled a few more nepatrox before she could get a glimpse at her leg. She felt a small amount of pain in that leg that seemed to be growing. The fabric of her pants’ leg was torn, but she couldn’t see skin.

She stomped her foot as she moved a step closer to the group. She felt that. That was reassuring. She pushed down fear and i
gnored the pain. She’d be safe soon enough.

Over the din, Ajaya enunciated, “On a count of three, step back, Jane, and reload. I’m going to try something.”

Jane sent her a terse nod. Ajaya counted. Jane readied herself to slip the harness over her arm, go for a clip, and back out of range—in a single, time-saving motion.

Ajaya called out, “Three!”

Jane leapt back. As she slipped the new magazine into place, she looked up to see Ajaya executing some kind of ninja-worthy move.

With her tank of compressed air held neatly before her, Ajaya went low to the floor and spun in a swift, forceful arc, sweeping the animals out of the way, effectively clearing a swath before her. Then, in a sprightly leap, she was one foot closer to the open door and safety.

“Move!” Jane yelled. The men were reacting sluggishly to the sudden advancement. “Do that again, Ajaya!”

Jane put two bullets down the throat of a large animal that was under the mistaken impression that it was about to face off with her and smiled as the image of Indiana Jones shooting the swordsman in Cairo spontaneously came to mind for a split second. She vaul
ted back at Ajaya’s three-count, attempting a similar move as she went, shoving them sideways and back. The creatures were flung in their wake, sliding into each other, disorienting the general mass of them for just a moment.

They were almost there. It was working. She couldn’t keep the grim smile from her lips as she kicked one in the side of the head and put another one down with a round into its yawning mouth, spattering its brains in every direction.

“Again—then inside! Everyone get ready. No mistakes. Do your part!”

She counted aloud with Ajaya, humming with excitement, primed to run. She knew they would succeed. She wouldn’t look back.

On three, she turned. She pumped her legs like pistons. She sprinted for Tom.

Then, the gravity went out.

16

Bergen was sweating profusely. It was stinging his eyes.

It was happening so fast.
Too fast, damn it.
He shouldn’t have listened to her. He should have gone with her. Why hadn’t he done that?

The next few seconds would be crucial and he’d be cut off from her. He was letting her down. What was he doing?

Jane
. He was having a hard time tearing his eyes from her. He’d never seen her like that. She was turning those animals into carcasses like a blonde Lara Croft. The woman looked invincible…like a fucking fantasy.

Where was the prissy librarian now? Goddammit, she was hot.

She should have come inside with them. Maybe the animals would have stuck around, trying to get through the door. Maybe they wouldn’t even have noticed Tom. Maybe there was no hope for Tom, anyway. He hated the thought of her risking everything if Tom was beyond help.

They were almost through the door. Jane’s plan was working. With difficulty, Alan concentrated on his assigned task as she
streaked down the corridor toward Tom. He could hear Gibbs’ boot steps pounding for the other door.

He used his tank to block an attack, took another step back,
then lunged forward, swinging the tank with vicious, deadly accuracy. All he had to do was keep these little piss-ants from getting through the door.

Unfortunately, the animals had revved things up, scrambling over each other, launching themselves at them. Perhaps they sensed they were about to be cut off from their prey. The sudden retreat probably stimulated their prey drive.

The battle armor Jane had mentioned would have been damn useful at this point. Walsh was such an ass. That little miscalculation was going to go in his next report to Houston. If there was another report to Houston.

His eyes drifted to Jane. There were a bunch of the little ba
stards hot on her heels.

Walsh was counting down. There wasn’t much time left.

Alan stood stock still, forgetting anything but Jane’s need. He fired, picking off as many of the creatures following her as he could. He felt a slash into his leg. It burned like a mother-fucker. He ignored it.

There was shouting. He ignored that too, completely focused on Jane. Finally, someone grabbed him, pulling him forcefully through the door. It shut in his face even as he lunged forward to take another shot.

He turned to take off sprinting for the other door, but something was wrong. He blinked rapidly.

At first he thought it might be the creature’s venom, that maybe he was hallucinating. It felt like his feet had lifted out from under him. His stomach lurched into his throat and his chest felt full.

He was drifting away from the door, pivoting at a strange angle. He shook his head to clear it. Quickly, the mental processes he’d developed to cope with microgravity kicked in.  

“The gravity is malfunctioning,” Ajaya yelled. She was already some distance away, floating at a point midway to the other door. She must have taken off at a dead run as soon as she’d hit the door control, just as he’d planned to do. Gibbs was nearly to the other door.

Bergen suddenly realized that in a room this large, he’d have to anchor himself before he drifted too far from anything he could grab. He pulled up his knees and rotated.

Walsh was wedged into the doorframe with his back against the door and held out a hand. Alan met Walsh’s eyes. They were grim.

Alan snapped to alert with a start. “Oh, fuck. Jane!”

“We’ll do what we can for her,” Walsh said as he pulled Be
rgen back to the door.

There was nothing to hold on to. This ship was never meant to be a microgravity environment.

“Let’s assess the situation,” Walsh continued tersely. “Open the door, Berg.”

Alan glanced over his shoulder at Ajaya. She was swimming in the air, trying to make progress toward the other door. He huffed. It’d take years to get there that way, but if anyone could, it’d be Ajaya.

He covered the door control with his hand, using as little pressure as possible so he wouldn’t be propelled back into the room.

The door slid up. There was a lot of hissing going on out there, but very little other sound. Walsh swung his tank carefully, deli
berately. He was just using enough force to knock the creatures back but not with so much momentum that he would hurl himself into their midst. Alan grabbed the back of Walsh’s flight suit, to keep him anchored.

“Holloway,” Walsh yelled. “Stop flailing around—you’re was
ting energy.”

Bergen pulled himself into the doorway. The creatures were floating around in clumps—corpses and live, pissed-off things—spinning, drifting in every direction, caroming into each other in comical slow-motion.

Jane appeared to be ok. She was whirling, arms outstretched, momentum still carrying her down the hall toward Tom. There were creatures all around her, but it didn’t look like anything was too close. She sounded bewildered as she met his eyes briefly before rotating again. “I’m stuck in the middle—I can’t—there’s nothing to push off of—”

He ventured out a little farther, clinging to the doorframe. “You can use your weapon, Jane. Do you have any rounds left?”

She looked at the gun in her hand like she was mystified. “I think so.”

“Try to make yourself aerodynamic—you’ll go farther if you reduce drag—and fire in the opposite direction you want to go. Kill a few of those things for good measure, while you’re at it, too.”

She beamed at him. “That I can do.”

She flopped around, orienting herself. She’d never completely adapted to zero-g, probably never would. He tried not to let his amusement show, not that she was looking.

Bergen glanced over his shoulder. Gibbs had made it to the other door and was tying a length of paracord around a crate. He narrowed his eyes. The crates weren’t floating—they were anchored somehow.

She got herself oriented, roughly parallel with the floor, arms outstretched in front of
herself, and fired. She was propelled quite a distance. “That,” she said with a laugh as she started to slow, “was awesome.”

Gibbs was bracing himself in the other doorway, ready to thrust himself toward Tom.

Then she fell out of the air. They all did.

17

Jane slammed into the floor with a nauseating crunch. All the air whoofed out of her with a groan. Her vision narrowed to a spiraling tunnel of light. The pain was a shock. She’d never felt anything like it. She struggled to draw breath, to cling to consciousness, as white-hot agony tore at her throat.

She had a fleeting
thought, that she should try not to scream. It might draw the creatures. Was it too late? Had she already done that? She wasn’t sure.

Blood throbbed in her ears. Her vision swam. She pushed he
rself up on her elbows to assess her situation. She saw her leg at once, curled at an unnatural angle under her. She collapsed back down, pressing her face to the cold, plastic surface of the floor, gathering strength, as hot bile stung the back of her throat.

It could be worse. She wasn’t dead yet.

The gun. Where was the gun? Her hands were empty.

“Jane!” Alan yelled. It was a hoarse, desperate warning.

She should try to reassure him, somehow, but that seemed ludicrous.

Brilliant colors filled her field of vision—like a perfect sunset, in pastel hues of tangerine and magenta. She stared at them in wonder until she realized what she was looking at. A creature. A nepatrox. It was tottering toward her, teeth exposed, regarding her warily.

A calming presence blanketed the flood of panic, before she could even react. It was Ei’Brai.
The weapon is within reach of your dominant extremity,
he soothed.

She couldn’t take her eyes off the animal. It acted almost drunk, still trying to adjust to its constantly changing circumstan
ces. But there was no doubt it was hungry. It was just a matter of time.

She slid her right hand over the floor, Ei’Brai guiding it to the pistol. She clutched it gratefully, then clamped down hard on her jaw and rolled, with considerable effort, onto her side. Why had that been so hard? She paid no heed to the racking pain in her leg and fired point blank into the thing’s head. It exploded, raining blood and disgusting chunks over her.

She coughed, swiped at her face with her sleeve, and tried to sit up. That was a mistake. She came close to passing out again.

She
laid back down, panting, and considered her options. Her compressed-air tank was a few feet away. She should go for it. Maybe she could crawl there before the nepatrox were completely recovered and alert. She could buy herself some time that way, so that someone could come get her.

With a grunt, she rolled back onto her stomach. She tried to raise herself up on her uninjured knee. It wouldn’t cooperate. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought down despondency. One leg
badly broken—that was clear—but the other was…what? Paralyzed? She searched her memory for a clue. The venom. She had felt a burning sensation earlier, but she hadn’t had time to really think about it.

Hate seethed inside her, a bright, glowing thing that eclipsed everything else. She braced herself on one elbow and fired at an
ything that moved within a few feet of her until the clip was spent. She dropped the clip, awkwardly hurled it at one of the animals, and shoved her last clip home.

Ei’Brai’s voice rumbled inside her head,
All will be well. My arrival is imminent.

She heaved with incredulous giggles, certain she’d completely lost touch with reality. How preposterous. That wasn’t even poss
ible. He couldn’t come for her. She had to be hallucinating his voice. Oh, she was really in a pickle now.

Ei’Brai,
she mused. He’d said something once about debating the existence of deities and she wished she’d had the chance to do that with him. She needed a deity now. Her grandparent’s fire and brimstone God seemed as good as any other at the moment.
Oh, God, help me survive this.

Dimly she registered that people were yelling. Weapons were firing.

Blood. Some of it was hers. The floor was slick with blood and brains and other nepatrox gore. She drug herself through it. The horror of that made her throat close up.

“Jane! Can you hear me?” It was Gibbs, coming from the dire
ction of the closest door. “I’m going to set off a flashbang. Cover your ears and close your eyes!”

She heard him. She knew what he was going to do, but it seemed so impossible that it could make a difference. The animals were hissing, closing in. There were too many of them. Doggedly, she maneuvered on her elbows toward the canister, retching and spitting when she wrenched her leg.

Boots thudded heavily on the floor at her ear. She looked up, expecting to see Alan, Ajaya, Walsh or Gibbs, thinking,
but, he hasn’t used the stun grenade yet, has he?

She was pretty sure she would have noticed that. They were supposed to be really loud, blindingly bright, weren’t they?

It was Tom.

His expression was spiritless and unblinking. There was no life behind his eyes.

The flashbang went off, and with it came a concussive force that knocked her jaw painfully into the floor.

She hadn’t been ready for it. At least she’d been looking in the opposite direction, so the searing of her retinas was short-lived. But she couldn’t hear a thing now. That would last a few seconds, she remembered.

Anticipate discomfort
, vibrated pleasantly inside her brain.

She gaped at Tom, and rolled over. “Tom? Wha—?” She couldn’t even hear herself.

Tom bent mechanically, at the hinge of his knee, and rested stolidly on his heels. His arms slid under her. He scooped her to him in a single, efficient motion and stood. She blacked out as the movement jarred her leg and came around to find him marching down the hall at an unhurried pace. Each jostling step sent pain shooting up her thigh. A few of the hardier nepatrox surged around them, lashing at his legs and chomping their jaws in frustration.

She touched Tom’s face. He didn’t respond. Not even a flinch. He didn’t turn his head to look at her, just plodded on. “Tom?” she questioned softly.

It is not your Dr. Thomas Compton that secures your health and safety, Dr. Jane Holloway.

She stared at Tom’s face in confusion. She felt so lightheaded. She must have lost a lot of blood. “Ei’Brai?”

Tell your shipmates—it is imperative that they go into the chamber.

She continued to speak aloud to Tom’s blank face, “Why?”

It is only a matter of time before this individual’s structure malfunctions. Tell them now. I cannot protect them without your assistance.

She could sense then, that this undertaking was tasking him to the reaches of his capability. He let her see his determination, his
assurance, that he was going to make amends. He was almost to the deck transport.

She wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck and lifted herself to look over his shoulder. The others were fighting fruitlessly. Alan was yelling her name, over and over.

She called to them, “Go inside and shut the door!”

“Jane! Are you ok?” His voice was so full of anguish.

She blinked hard. Her vision was blurry. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Everything was swirling out of control. She wanted to trust Ei’Brai, knew she didn’t have a choice and…they didn’t either. “Yes! I’m ok! I’ll be ok!”

That was all she could muster. She leaned her cheek on Tom’s shoulder, fighting her eyes closing, and watched dully as Gibbs and Ajaya went through the closest door and shut it.

Seconds later, she saw Walsh haul Alan through the farther door by the scruff of his flight suit. That door shut. A moment later, Tom strode into the deck transport. Another door shut between them.

A few nepatrox followed them inside. Jane couldn’t maintain consciousness as Tom’s body, forced like an automaton by Ei’Brai’s mind, kicked them into death or submission.

She roused again as Tom staggered through the outer chamber of the medical facility. He stumbled past the diagnostic platform and through one of the many doors there.

His breathing was labored. Something was terribly wrong. The calming force that had tethered her, kept her from shrieking in pain, was gone. Her vision was fuzzy around the edges. She grit her teeth and clung to him.

All will be well,
he thundered clumsily in her mind.
Do not fear.

His loss of control did not engender trust. She couldn’t comply.

This room harbored a sea of large, molded tubs, each filled with a sparkling-clear, gel-like substance. Tom lurched to the nearest tub and unceremoniously dumped her in without a word of explanation.

Her head went under and she thrashed at the shock of it, arms blindly seeking purchase. Ei’Brai gushed reassurance as she broke the surface, gasping. Tom’s body was collapsed against the side of
the tank, clearly no longer inhabited. There was no time to contemplate what that meant.

Calmly, now.
This is critical care. You are unaware of the damage you have sustained.

There was some kind of activity taking place, she realized faintly, within the goo. Bright blue lights gleamed under the su
rface, beautiful and surreal, highlighting the swirls and disturbances she’d made in the crystalline-clear gel. She watched numbly as a purple blob seemed to bloom from her leg. A tiny tube emerged from the side of the tank to suction it away.

Her horror grew as she became aware that the tank was alive with nearly invisible mechanical devices. She squirmed, grasping for a handhold to pull
herself out. Ei’Brai clamped down on her, mentally forcing a semblance of calm. She could no longer move.

She peered through the gel in a confused stupor as thread-like filaments swarmed over her body. Some of them brandished small tools at their tips. Others snaked over her skin, effectively binding her. Still more painlessly pierced her skin, slipping inside to deli
ver some form of treatment, she supposed, with dismayed detachment.

The royal blue pants’ legs of her jumpsuit were swiftly snipped to ribbons and swept away, revealing a jagged, white bone protru
ding from the torn flesh of her thigh. She closed her eyes. Even through the distortion of the gel, it was too much to see.

Warmth flooded her body and she felt her skin flush, sweat prickling her hairline. Pain dissipated to nothing but a numb, ho
llow feeling. Some combination of drugs seeped into her, promoting pain relief and relaxation. She felt her taut muscles yielding, even as a network of filamentous webs encased her and tugged her lower into the gel. Her arms grew heavy and sank into the gel of their own volition. Or had they been pulled there?

She sensed movement and opened her eyes to see Tom rise and shuffle to the next tank,
then awkwardly dump himself in, head-first. She couldn’t even react beyond a mewling sound of concern. His booted feet stuck out. As she watched, they twisted and were sucked down, disappearing from view.

She felt drowsy. Something tugged at her leg, manipulating the injured appendage. She felt pulling, a brief grinding, then a sens
ation of blessed relief. She looked down with heavy-lidded curiosity, but could no longer see anything amid the swath of fibrous filaments that enveloped her.

The gel lapped at her lips. It tasted acrid, bitter. She tried to shake her head, to sit up, to raise her chin, but she was so sleepy and the tug was strong.

You will not suffocate, Dr. Jane Holloway. The device will supply your organs directly with all that is needed. Trust.

She railed against the word. She wanted to hurl it back at him. But she couldn’t. She didn’t have the energy. She couldn’t stay above the surface much longer. She could feel the slender tentacles brushing against her face, like a lover’s gentle caress. Whisper soft, they infiltrated her nose, her mouth. She couldn’t deny them entrance.

She felt her breath and pulse slow.

Her last conscious thoughts were of Alan. Was he hurt? Was he safe? Ei’Brai had promised he would be.

If he wasn’t…when she got out of this…whatever this was…there would be hell to pay.

She went under.