Fluency

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 herself 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 circumstances. 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 anything 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 possible. 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 direction 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 surface, 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 deliver 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 protruding 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, hollow 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 sensation 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.