Fluency

7

Jane was afraid to believe Ei’Brai, afraid to trust him—and she was afraid not to. She was in pain. There was an absurd amount of information unfurling inside her head. She felt panicked and unsure, but she couldn’t let any of that show.

Walsh and Bergen were in desperate need—Ei’Brai seemed to be quite correct about that—and, given the nature of their predicament, it was extremely unlikely they were capable of self-rescue.

Walsh and Bergen…Alan…they could be suffocating even now.

That brought up so many uncomfortable thoughts and memories. She wanted to suppress them, but the images kept bubbling to the surface:

It had been a weekend day, with a bright blue sky and rushing clouds. She chatted up the tourists, soaking up the sun on the small boat, as Dad sought just the right spot. Then she was watching their eyes light up with wonder as she pointed out brightly colored fish and mesmerizing underwater creatures to them. The storm was unexpected, blew up quickly. The sea, suddenly turbulent, tossed them painfully into the coral. The day’s vacationers were weak swimmers, were drifting too far away. She tried to help. She had helped. But it hadn’t been enough.

No. Focus.

At least Ajaya had enough sense to observe Jane, rather than restrain or sedate her. Fortunately, Ajaya seemed to be sufficiently convinced by Jane’s self-possession and certitude, as well as by Walsh and Bergen’s strange behavior, to comply with her terse directions. That didn’t stop her from asking a lot of questions, but Jane couldn’t spare the time to explain. The best proof, for both herself and the others, was going to be a demonstration of this…collaboration—with a favorable outcome. There was no other option.

“Jane? What’s this about slugs?” Ajaya gasped from behind her.

Jane was racing for the nearest entry point to the room where Bergen and Walsh were trapped. A large green canister of compressed air was slung on her back; the tubing that connected it to the face mask slapped against her neck and chest with each step.

She had to get there in time. In a dangerous situation, even a moment of indecision could cost a life. Even a strong swimmer, they’d said.

Too many minutes had been lost trying to get the other door open. She would have liked to have sent Gibbs and Compton to try yet another door, but it would have taken too long to explain how to get there.

She ignored Ajaya’s question. Pulling off her mask briefly, she instead supplied a vital one of her own, “Ajaya, how many minutes of air are in the small canisters they took?”

“Typically, 40 minutes—”

“The same if they’re sharing it?” She spared Ajaya a fearful glance over her shoulder. They had no idea how long they’d been sharing that canister. There might not be much time left.

“The rate of flow should be the same….” Ajaya trailed off. Even Ajaya wasn’t sure.

One, two, three rows more, according to the layout that unfolded in her mind. She didn’t slow down much, just slammed into the wall, her hand outstretched to the symbol. The door opened and she darted inside. It was dark. She fumbled in her pack for a flashlight. Had she taken too long? Would she find them, pale and blue, the way they’d found her father, trapped in the reef?

She pulled off the mask and grabbed for her radio. “Bergen, I’m here. Turn on the strobe so I can see where you are.”

She replaced the mask and strained her eyes and ears to pick up any sign of him. He didn’t answer. She could faintly hear the beeping of their oxygen monitors, but the sound was repeated in the cavernous room and was hard to pinpoint.

“Oh, my goodness. He wasn’t kidding. Slugs, indeed,” Ajaya panted.

Jane found herself saying, “They’re a pest. Like rats on the sailing ships of the 18th century. They’re commonly found on interstellar ships.” She shut her mouth. That hadn’t come 100 percent from her. The information Ei’Brai had put in her head was integrating with native thought and memory.

Ajaya just looked at her with a bewildered expression. Jane felt a light buzz as she turned to scan the room again. She wanted nothing more than to take off now. She had a general sense of where they must be, but running willy-nilly through the aisles wouldn’t be efficient. Ei’Brai had promised to help and she had to concentrate to hear his whispers.

“Jane—” Ajaya began.

Jane shook her head to silence her and closed her eyes.

From this point, 17 units left, 43 direct, will take you to them….

She sprinted, staying mentally disciplined, counting each tank as she passed it. The beeping from the oxygen monitors was getting louder. As she drew close, she pulled the bulky mask down and called out, “Bergen? Alan? Can you hear me?”

“Jane? Jane! We’re over here!” His voice sounded desperate. Finally, she could see him, probably 30 feet or more in the air, cradling Walsh in his arms. “Jane! Sorry, I couldn’t manage the strobe. I dropped the flashlight trying to turn it on. Where are Compton and Gibbs? We’re going to need help to get Walsh down!”

Jane hooked the flashlight to her flight suit, slung the two extra canisters over her shoulder, and started climbing. She pulled down her mask as she heaved her body up the next rung, the canisters and masks clanged together and slipped down her arm. Each canister, made from a lightweight fiberglass material, weighed less than ten pounds, but three of them were awkward to manage. She struggled to keep them from getting entangled with the ladder with each step. “Is he unconscious?”

“Yes! I can’t hold him much longer—the pack is tearing. I’m sorry, Jane. Beautiful Jane.”

“Do you have any air left?”

“Not much. Put yours back on, you nutcase!”

She did as she was told. She was already feeling dizzy. She didn’t know how he could have kept his head so long.

When she reached him, he started babbling about everything he’d been through thus far. She passed him one of the canisters and helped while he laboriously slipped the harness over his shoulders and clipped it around his waist, then together they got the other one affixed to Walsh.

Once he had the mask over his face, Bergen went quiet, and Jane studied the situation. He had a pack slung over Walsh’s shoulders, attached with a carabiner clip to a rung. That was supporting most of Walsh’s weight and Bergen was keeping him in place. One of the shoulder straps was tearing away from the pack, though. She immediately moved to support his weight.

Walsh was passed out, but she could see he was still breathing and when she felt his pulse, it was strong. She relayed that information to Ajaya.

How were they going to get Walsh down? She considered a few different options, but they all sounded dangerous to her.

A thought occurred to her. She closed her eyes to concentrate on a single thought, Please, if you can, turn off the gravity in this room.

Nothing happened. It didn’t work that way, apparently. Either he couldn’t hear her thoughts or he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do that for some reason. She let out a curse as she gave up on the idea.

She opened her eyes to find Alan watching her with narrowed eyes.

She pulled down her mask and pretended she hadn’t just been trying to communicate telepathically with an alien. “Alan? Feeling any better?”

He nodded.

“How do we get him down? I have rope in my pack. Can we make a harness and lower him?”

His eyes lit up and he seemed to consider the possibilities.

Ajaya shined a couple of flashlights on them from below and called out, “Jane? Shall I climb up there too? Do you need another pair of hands?”

“No room. Get on the radio and give Compton and Gibbs directions to this location, ok?” Jane carefully wedged her pack between herself and Walsh. If it took insanely long periods of time to do something in microgravity, it took even longer to accomplish anything whilst clinging to a ladder trying to keep an unconscious person from falling in the dark. She pulled out a bundle of paracord and passed it to Bergen. “Do you have any idea how to make a sling?”

He slipped his mask aside and grinned roguishly. “I can do one better. I’ve done some rock climbing. I’ll improvise a harness and then we’ll use the carabiner as a simple, moveable pulley. That will nearly halve the amount of force we’ll need to use to lower him.”

Jane smiled at his enthusiasm and reached over to push his face mask back in place, because he was already busying himself with the paracord. He methodically looped the cording around Walsh’s shoulders and legs, crisscrossing it around his back and groin.

As she watched him work, helping when she could, she noticed his hand was discolored, captured it in one of her own, and shone the flashlight directly on it. She gasped with dismay. “Alan—what happened to your hand?” It was red and splotchy, swollen, with some blistering in spots.

He pulled his hand from her grasp and kept working. “I’m feeling it now, but at least my hands are cooperating.” He jerked his head toward the storage tank. He must have touched one of the creatures or the slime trails they left behind.

“What have you done to treat it? Anything?”

“I cut open my water pouch and stuck my hand inside for a good five minutes. It’s fine. Ajaya will put some cream on it and I’ll be good as new.”

She knew it wasn’t fine. He had to be in incredible pain.

He connected the carabiner to the newly fashioned harness and cut the paracord with a multitool he fished out of a pocket. He securely knotted one end of the remaining paracord to the ladder, slipped the other end through the carabiner, and made another knot to tether Walsh temporarily.

He pulled his mask down. “I’m guessing Walsh is about 170 or 180. By using a movable pulley, it’ll feel like 90 to 100 pounds, roughly, ok? Between us, that should be a piece of cake. Let’s get a good hold on him and I’ll get him loose.” He put his mask back into place and got to work moving Walsh into position.

Alan got the carabiner loose of the torn pack. Walsh jerked in their arms. Jane cried out involuntarily as she was wrenched against the ladder. Bergen muttered what she guessed were some choice words, smothered by the mask. He wrapped the slack around one arm and slowly untied the tether.

Jane steadied herself by letting Walsh’s weight pull her forward into the rung that crossed her chest and reached out with her right hand to take the rope from Bergen.

His eyebrows drew together. His words were muffled by the mask, but she got the gist.

“Alan—your hand is badly injured. I can do this. You—you just back me up, ok? I can do it.” She tried to sound firmer than she felt. She should be able to do it. She had to do it. With his right hand in such a state, she had to bear the brunt of the weight or he would injure himself further and Walsh might literally slip through their fingers.

He reluctantly nodded assent.

She let go of Walsh’s makeshift harness and got a firm grip on the rope that would lower him by wrapping it around both fists. “Ok. You let him go and take the tail of the rope. Get ready, Ajaya! We’re going to let Walsh down!”

Bergen’s eyes were on her, not Walsh, as he slowly let go. The rope went taut and she grit her teeth. It wasn’t too bad. She was holding him on her own. She felt beads of sweat break out on her scalp and upper lip as she was pressed painfully into the rungs of the ladder.

She was just getting used to the idea, when Bergen barked at her, “Jane—you have to let him down, hand over hand.”

“Ok, ok. I know.” She let loose of one hand. The rope bucked and Walsh banged into the ladder. She flinched. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, Walsh,” she murmured as she took a hold of the slack to repeat the process, hopefully a little more gently this time.

“You’re doing great, Jane,” Bergen said in her ear. He was close against her, ready to grab the rope if necessary, she supposed.

Her biceps burned. All those workouts in the capsule were actually paying off. She’d mentally cursed through every session, but she was saying a prayer of gratitude for them now. Foot by foot, she lowered him. She didn’t want to think of failing, but her arms trembled and the rope cut into her hands.

“Steady, Jane.” Alan’s muffled voice sounded in her ear.

Walsh slipped a few feet and bounced around. Jane yelped in dismay and pain. There were only a few feet left to go before he reached Ajaya, Compton and Gibbs’ outstretched arms. She couldn’t drop him now. Alan grabbed the rope between her two hands and slowed it down.

Finally, Ajaya was reaching up to take the weight. The rope went slack. Jane pressed her forehead to the ladder in relief. Her arms felt like rubber and all she wanted to do was go limp. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

Alan was smiling at her. “Bet you’ll never look at those resistance bands the same way again, huh?”

She reached out and covered up that smug smile with his mask. “Keep your mask on. Let’s go. We need to get Walsh out of here. You first.”

He huffed in amusement but didn’t argue. By the time they got to the bottom, Gibbs and Compton were getting Walsh into a carrying hold. There were a lot of looks being exchanged, but there seemed to be an unspoken consensus that the first order of business should be getting Walsh to safety. She took point, leading them out into the corridor and back toward the capsule.

They hadn’t gotten far when she felt the unmistakable buzzing sensation again. She stumbled and could feel the others’ eyes on her. She drug her feet a few steps, reluctant to fall unconscious under their direct scrutiny. She couldn’t tell if this was another brief message or if he would call her away again and she wasn’t sure she wanted either to happen. It continued, grew stronger, until she heaved a heavy sigh, stopped walking, and closed her eyes to concentrate—instinctively honing in on the feeling, to give him easier access to her thoughts. As soon as she did that, the rumbling ceased and she felt the lightest tendrils of thought easing into her mind.

The ship’s air quality sensors indicate the corridor’s atmosphere is safe for your occupancy, Dr. Jane Holloway. If the injuries your party has sustained are more severe than your resources can accommodate, Speroancora has a medical facility that is at your disposal. There are no air quality issues on any of the common routes or within those chambers.

The hum ceased and Jane straightened, pulling her mask over her head. It was time to face them, if not yet time to explain, perhaps. “It’s safe to take off our masks now,” she said, unclipping the harness, slipping the apparatus from her shoulders, and turning off the air flow. “How is Walsh, Ajaya?”

Ajaya kept a leery eye on Jane as she drew her stethoscope and a small flashlight from her pack, then turned her attention to examining Walsh. Compton and Gibbs held Walsh with their arms linked in a chair hold. Walsh’s head and torso sagged against Gibbs’ shoulder.

Gibbs slipped his mask aside. “Jane, what’s going on? How do you know it’s safe now? How did you know all this stuff was happening?” He turned to Bergen. “Wasn’t the radio signal getting through, before, when we split up?”

Bergen looked like he wasn’t sure about any of it and slowly pulled down his own mask.

Ajaya redirected their attention. “Much as I would like to know the answers to these questions, my own questions are more pressing at the moment. How long has Walsh been out and what were you two breathing in there? Do you know?”

Bergen seemed to consider that. “He’s been out a good twenty minutes or more. He had a much tougher time clearing the gas, even with the oxygen. I believe it’s xenon gas.”

Ajaya furrowed her brow. “I’m aware of the properties of xenon. It’s occasionally used in pulmonology. That explains your symptoms.”

Bergen frowned and nodded once.

Ajaya turned back to Walsh. “But why isn’t he clearing the gas?”

Bergen rubbed his neck, thoughtfully. “He did say something about having bruised ribs from Gibbs falling on him yesterday. At the time, I thought he was joking.”

That seemed to alarm Ajaya. “Oh, dear. That’s a problem. He may have developed inflammation of the intercostal muscles and may not be capable of taking a deep breath, just now. The gas may have settled in his lungs and is simply sitting there. This has all sorts of implications. He may be at risk for pneumonia as well.”

Bergen grabbed Walsh’s dangling legs and shoved them over one shoulder. “Let’s turn him upside down. If we change his position, that should displace it.”

Ajaya was nodding. “Yes—good idea. That should work.”

Gibbs and Compton slowly eased Walsh’s head toward the floor. They suspended him like that until Walsh coughed and came around. They got him upright and Ajaya moved in to examine him again. “Commander, we have very strict guidelines for reporting injuries,” she said primly.

Walsh looked confused. “What the…?”

“Welcome back, Commander. Take some deep breaths, please.” Ajaya resumed her patient, clinical air as she unceremoniously unzipped the front of Walsh’s flight suit and pulled up his t-shirt to palpate his ribs.

Walsh shook off the arms of the men holding him and slipped to his feet. He complied with Ajaya’s instructions, but was unable to hide painful winces with each deep breath.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Commander?”

Clearly discomfited, he glared at Bergen. “Climbing a ladder. Why aren’t you all wearing masks?”

Gibbs said, “Jane says it’s safe out here.”

“Since when is Holloway an expert on air quality? What the hell is going on? Why isn’t someone stationed in the capsule?”

They all turned to look at Jane. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She felt her face go hot. “I…we know we aren’t alone here. There is one…person…on board. This ship is called the Speroancora and has a single occupant, aside from us. His name is Ei’Brai.”

Compton touched her elbow lightly. “How can you know this, Jane?”

She lifted her chin. “I’ve been in contact with him. He told me what was happening, helped me find Walsh and Bergen. Without his help, we never would have found them before they both suffocated.”

A single word, edged with disbelief and contempt, came from Walsh, “How?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t know, but he gets into my head somehow. He says he’s been in all of our heads, that he’s capable of seeing our thoughts and memories, but I’m the only one he can actually talk to….”

They openly stared at her—as though she were the alien.

Her hands balled up into fists. “I know it sounds insane. All this time I thought I’d be documenting the first alien language—but even if this mission becomes public knowledge, who’s going to believe me when I say I communicated with an alien telepathically? Goddamn it!” Tears sprang to her eyes. She spun away from her colleagues and tipped her face up to blink the tears back before they spilled over.

Compton came around to face her, looking earnestly concerned. “When did this start?”

Her throat felt painfully thick. She choked out, “Yesterday. When I passed out. That’s when he first made contact with me. Right after I deciphered the symbols in the hallway.”

Compton squeezed her arm and moved away. She could hear Walsh speaking in undertones. Gibbs and Bergen stayed silent, but Compton murmured words in support of Jane, encouraging Walsh to hear her out more fully.

She glanced back at them when Ajaya spoke up in a level voice, an incredulous look on her face, “For what it’s worth, I’m inclined to believe her, Commander. Remember, I was with her the entire morning. She’s been operating with an impossible amount of knowledge of your situation, your exact whereabouts, and the ship’s layout. I could barely keep up with her. There were several instances where I honestly did wonder if she was communicating with someone silently, because I just couldn’t explain her actions any other way.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Varma?” Walsh said sarcastically.

“With all due respect, Commander, you weren’t there.” Ajaya replied.

“Then let’s hear the details, Holloway. Start at the beginning.”

Ajaya protested, “We need to prioritize. I need to treat your injury, Commander.”

He waved her off dismissively and gestured at Jane. “It can wait. The details. Now, Holloway.”

Jane solemnly came forward and carefully described the unusual sensations going on inside her head each time Ei’Brai had been trying to make contact the day before. She explained how the symbols in the hall had opened up to her, and how Ei’Brai had said that in that moment he knew that he’d be able to communicate with her. She recounted their conversation. Then she skipped to that morning, how it had happened again, and how events had unfolded. Ajaya added to Jane’s narrative with observations and the timing from her point of view. When she finished, Walsh regarded her with a grim expression, but didn’t say anything right away.

Ajaya glanced from Walsh to Jane and back again. “We need to begin treatment on your injury, Commander. Your condition could quickly become serious. The first rule of thoracic bruising is to control the pain so the patient can breathe properly, or secondary problems can develop. Believe me, you do not want to go there.”

Jane felt uncomfortable under Walsh’s intense scrutiny. She gestured toward Alan. “Dr. Bergen’s hand is injured. It’s a chemical burn.”

Jane snuck a look at her own hands. The paracord had cut her palms raw, but the others’ injuries were worse. She’d wait until they’d been tended to before pulling Ajaya aside.

Ajaya was already examining Bergen’s hand. “You’ve got a nasty second-degree burn, Alan. I dearly wish I could stick this hand under running water for twenty minutes to make sure you’re well-rid of the chemical that caused this.”

That got Jane’s attention. She probed clumsily at the newly implanted data in her mind, searching for particulars about the medical facility Ei’Brai had mentioned. “Can you treat them, Ajaya? Do you have what you need to treat Bergen and Walsh in the capsule?”

“I’ll manage. I don’t have all the comforts of home, obviously. I’d like to get some ice on Walsh’s injury, but that’s not possible, of course.” Ajaya sent Jane an intrigued look. “Why?”

“This ship has a medical facility and it’s not far. There’s potable running water there. I might manage to find some ice too. There are medical scanning devices. We’ve been invited by our host to use all of it, as needed.”

Walsh eyed her skeptically. “You’re saying you could take us there? Where is it, from here?”

“It’s three decks up via the deck-to-deck transport and 300 or 400 feet down a corridor.” Jane slid a glance at Bergen. He was rubbing the back of his neck with his uninjured hand, watching Walsh with a serious expression on his face.

“No. We fall back to the capsule. It’s a defensible position,” Walsh said tersely.

Ajaya shook her head. “With all due respect, Commander, going back into microgravity right now would be a mistake—the fluid shift could be dangerous for you. In fact, I don’t think it’s wise for any of us to keep going back and forth for extended periods. The effects on electrolyte balance and blood pressure alone, well, there’s no predicting the long-term effects of repeated rapid cycling through extreme environments like these. We’re here to explore this ship. The ship has gravity. We need to make camp somewhere inside it. An infirmary is as good a place as any.”

Walsh glowered at her. “We can make camp in the corridor outside the capsule then. Stay close to our supplies.”

Gibbs ventured sheepishly, “With the kind of resources we’re documenting here, the supply of water this ship is carrying has to be massive, meant for hundreds of people, maybe thousands. Do you think they have showers, Jane? I could really use a shower.”

Jane smiled at him ruefully, “Yes, Ron. I believe there’s a shower in the infirmary. I was thinking about that, too.”

Walsh shot Gibbs a dirty look and then turned to Compton and Bergen. “Well?”

Bergen spoke up immediately, “I think it’s a good idea to see something besides cargo. If Jane can deliver, we should investigate it.”

Jane focused on Bergen sharply, but his expression was inscrutable.

“No surprise there. Compton?”

“I’m concerned about Jane. I want to know more about what happened to her.”

Walsh sighed heavily and then grimaced at the pain that must have caused. “Noted. Agreed. Your opinion?”

“I agree with Ajaya. If we have to make camp here for medical reasons, that sounds like a good solution. I have doubts about our ability to use their equipment right away, but it’s worth looking.”

Walsh surveyed the group like they’d all completely taken leave of their senses. “Fine. Take Varma and Gibbs and get the supplies we’ll need for twenty-four hours, then lock it up. We’ll see what this is all about.”