Ghost station, p.31
Ghost Station, page 31
And her hands are the same.
From the tattered remains of her gloves at her wrist, tiny black flecks shine back up at them under their helmet lights, but in the sparse gaps in the black, Ophelia catches the glimmer of white, of bone, where her fingers should be.
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Pinnacle never even made it off the planet,” Ethan says, his voice hoarse. “Three of them here, at least one back at the hab. Two more somewhere.”
No, there’s one under the rover. Ophelia subtracts from the total.
“They might have gotten the lander off the ground, but…” He shakes his head, his throat audibly clicking.
Shock. He’s in shock. Which makes sense. Ophelia should be, would be, too, if she wasn’t who she is.
She straightens up, forcing a deep breath through her still aching lungs. “Ethan. Hey. We need to go. Right now.”
When he doesn’t respond, she makes herself step closer to the rover door. Trying not to look at Vivien, not to think about the team member under the rover. That’s going to be our fate, our future.
Ophelia tugs the door free of his hands and tries to close it. It stops well short, with another equally disturbing screech of the hinges. But there’s enough room for Ethan to move past it now.
She grabs his arm and pulls him toward her.
“Take them back, you assholes! Wake up and take it back!” Suresh screams over the growing noise of the wind. Another front is moving in. “We just want to get out of here!”
A clattering sound Ophelia doesn’t recognize echoes both inside and outside her helmet. “Suresh, stop! Stop!” Kate shouts. “Put them down.”
The sample vials. He must be throwing them at the tower.
Ophelia heads for Kate, Suresh, and Liana, yanking Ethan after her.
“Ethan, I need help, I can’t … Oh my God. Liana, stop! Come back!”
Ethan seems to wake up then. He twists his arm free from Ophelia’s grasp and pushes past her to bolt for the front of the tower.
She rounds the corner just after him.
The hum she was expecting earlier kicks in now. Only it’s not a hum, more of a high-pitched tone instead, like microphone feedback, increasing in intensity. Ophelia ducks, trying to cover her ears with her arms, though it does no good. She can feel the reverberation in her head, a bell that’s been rung and won’t stop. It feels like the bones of her skull are pulling apart, her brain turning to gray matter jelly.
She stumbles forward, away from the tower. She needs to get farther from the vibrations. The lure of peace and happiness is gone. Her father’s voice is silent. This is its true face.
“Liana!” Kate shouts, her voice faded and distorted beneath the tone but cracking with desperation.
Ophelia twists around to look for Kate. For them. Where are they? Why aren’t they running?
Ethan and Kate are hunched over, arms up in a useless attempt at defense, trying to stagger forward. Suresh is at the base of the tower, standing with his helmeted head tipped up as if listening to something Ophelia can’t hear.
But Liana—oh God.
Arms flung wide in a parody of crucifixion, Liana is pressed up against the towers, like something is holding her there. Her feet dangle a couple meters above the ground, toes pointed downward. Her head leans forward against the tower in an impossibly straight and rigid position.
Exactly like Ophelia envisioned herself before. Only there’s no white light, no sense of peace or becoming one.
And then the screaming starts.
30
Liana’s body stiffens, and the thin shriek, like the whistle on the old-fashioned kettle Ophelia’s grandmother insisted on for her tea, becomes a full-bodied scream.
The smooth and shiny surface of the tower … warps, shifting like a wave rolling across and up it simultaneously.
Liana’s scream cuts off into a thick gurgling across the comm channel, followed by a sharp crack. A moment later, black bits flow like foaming smoke from her helmet in a stream Ophelia can see even at this distance here. Her faceplate. It just broke through her faceplate, like the Pinnacle team member in the rover.
We need to get her down!
Ophelia’s not sure if someone said it over the comm channel or if she just thought it. It’s impossible to focus on anything with the whine in her ears. It’s like staring directly at the sun, only with sound instead of light.
Then Liana’s hands lurch upward above her head, and her suit starts to move. Irregularly shaped lump and bumps press against the boundary of her envirosuit as they skim up her torso and down her arms toward the gloved ends of her suit. Whatever is in her is trying to get out, to get back into the tower.
Oh shit.
Ethan and Kate manage to reach the base of the tower and grab for Liana’s feet, the only part of her in reach.
Gritting her teeth against the pain in her head, Ophelia slogs forward to join them. Only, just as she nears them, Suresh reaches out and presses his hand against the tower.
Motherfucker. He’s going to be next.
Ophelia leaves Liana to Kate and Ethan and charges toward Suresh. She doesn’t have a plan, she doesn’t even know what she’s going to do when she reaches him, which as it turns out, is to launch herself at him. Brute force, when all else fails.
Ophelia connects with him, her shoulder in his side, and her weight and momentum tear him away from the tower, casting them both to the ground. She lands on top of him, her abused lungs and back protesting the second jarring hit in a matter of minutes.
Ophelia straightens up as soon as she can, pushing herself back off him. “Suresh? Hey, Suresh!” She shakes his shoulders.
His gaze is fixed, unblinking, on the towers behind her. But then he shudders and his eyes cast wildly side to side until he finally sees Ophelia.
“What happened? I don’t—”
“The aliens,” she says grimly. Easier to use his terminology. “They pulled you in. We need to get you away from here.” Before that magnet-like draw starts up again. She won’t be able to stop him by herself if he decides to fight her.
“My hand! I can’t feel it … I can’t feel anything on this side,” he says, panic in his voice.
He holds up his right hand, and his gloved hand flops forward, bending in the middle in a way that should not be possible.
It’s probably better, then, that he can’t feel anything.
“Can you stand?” Ophelia asks.
“I don’t…” He shakes his head. “No. The whole right side of my body, it’s…”
As she watches, he tries to move his fingers, and a combination of that blood and black sludge suddenly trickles through to his neck, pooling there, just visible through his faceplate. It must be rolling down his arm, back into his suit. Which means it is a not-insignificant amount of blood.
Ophelia looks away immediately, trying to ignore the swooping feeling in her head and gut at the sight of blood.
Okay, Okay. I need to think. “Keep your arm up.” Above the heart. She hopes that’s right. Or is that for a potentially venomous bite? Jesus. She never thought she would actually need to use this information.
She rocks back on her heels, thoughts spinning so fast she can’t catch hold of any of them. Tourniquet. Suddenly the word and the idea pop into view. She fumbles through the pockets on her suit. Suit patches. Rations. All kinds of emergency stuff in there. And one of those things, she’s pretty sure, is …
In one of the small pockets on the leg of her suit, her fingers latch on to a cord with a tiny plastic handle. “A tourniquet.”
She loops the cord above Suresh’s elbow and twists to tighten until he screams. If they’re not yelling, it’s not tight enough. The gruff instructor from her required training course, however, had failed to mention exactly how absolutely shitty it feels to deliberately inflict pain on someone, even if it is for their own good.
Ophelia blinks back tears. “Just try to stay calm. I’ve got you.” She shifts around until she can get her hands under his armpits.
“Oh, yeah, much fucking better,” Suresh says through clenched teeth.
It takes all of her strength to drag him backward. The snow helps a little, as does the marginally lighter gravity. But even with those aids, they only make it a half dozen meters before she has to stop, panting, side aching with the exertion.
When she checks the distance between their location and the towers, it looks as though she and Suresh have barely moved at all.
We’re still too close. And—Ophelia checks her oxygen levels—I’m sucking down air like there’s a whole planet full of it.
We’re not going to make it. The realization is cold and perfectly clear. She won’t be able to get him far enough away before those things finish—it certainly seems like some form of eating, doesn’t it?—and lure Suresh forward again, possibly everyone else as well.
Not to mention, Ophelia can’t search for the hab behind her if she’s dragging him. She might end up heading in completely the wrong direction in this storm. And they’ll both die when their suits run out of juice. Assuming they even make it that far.
At the towers, Ethan and Kate are both now facing outward and pulling at Liana’s legs, as if she were a cart to be tugged behind them. But the upper half of her body is glued to the tower. For now. Ophelia bets it won’t stay that way. Not if the bodies they found in the rover are any indication. Someone tried to rescue them, but they didn’t get very far.
Ophelia’s not as quick about it as Kate, but she finds Liana’s vitals on the display in her helmet faceplate. They’re fading, but her heart is still beating.
Ugly choices. Ophelia spoke about them so cavalierly with Ethan before. Now, when she’s actually faced with them, it feels like an entirely different situation.
“Doc, what are we doing?” Suresh asks in a gasp. “I’m not … the numbness is spreading.”
I need help. And we all need to leave. “Ethan. Kate. Suresh is injured, and we need to get him back to the hab. I can’t…” She takes a breath, forcing her voice to level out. “I can’t do it by myself, and I think we only have a matter of time before they, whatever they are, try again with the rest of us. Please.”
Hot tears roll down her face. She’s condemning Liana to death. It’s the only way forward for the rest of them. And Ophe- lia is the one pushing the issue, the one who will have to live with Liana’s death, another death, on her conscience.
Kate hesitates. Ophelia sees her stop, and then Kate releases her grip on Liana.
The buzz in Ophelia’s ears grows louder, as if the entities recognize that complete victory over Liana is imminent.
“Ethan, come on,” Kate shouts. She pauses a moment, waiting for him, but he just leans forward harder.
She shakes her head and runs toward Ophelia. “Let’s go.” She takes a position at Suresh’s right side, bending down to grip under his arm.
“Wait, we need Ethan,” Ophelia says, startled.
“He’s not coming,” Kate snaps. “You’re the one who said we needed to go.”
“And you said he’s our only pilot,” Ophelia points out. Though that’s not the reason. She just can’t stomach the idea of leaving him here. Not when he could walk away.
“I’m pretty sure that’s the least of our problems right now,” Kate says. “Let’s go!”
It’s one thing to accept death when she doesn’t have another choice, when death is the only option there is. But that’s not the case here.
With a hole opening up in the pit of her stomach, Ophelia steps around Suresh and heads toward Ethan.
“Fuck,” Kate snarls. “Doctor, get back here! If Severin is incapacitated, then I’m commander. I’m in charge!”
Ethan barely glances up when Ophelia reaches him. But he’s still trying to free Liana. He’s still in there, not lost to the tower, not yet. Which means this is him, making the choice. Trying to make up for past losses.
His eyes are bright with intensity, but Ophelia can see a familiar hopelessness in them as well. This is a man who is standing on the edge.
“Listen to me,” she says, as calmly as she can, over Kate’s cursing in the background. “I know you’re blaming yourself for this right now. I understand that, better than anyone. You know that. But we need you. And if you don’t walk away, we’re all going to die.” Her throat aches, but she keeps her voice as even as she can. “I’m not leaving you here to die just because you think you should, and Kate can’t save Suresh on her own.”
A convulsion runs through Liana’s body, and the tower’s pitch changes, going lower. Their time is running out.
“Doctor, don’t make me come get you!” Kate bellows.
“You told me that I needed to stop taking blame for things I can’t change and to ask for help,” Ophelia says, backing up slowly. Step by step. “So, I did. I am. And I’m asking you to do the same thing.”
Little Bird. Where are you? Her father’s voice whispers through her mind.
“Ethan, please!” Ophelia begs.
A shout tears from deep within him. “Fuck!” He releases his hold on Liana and runs, grabbing Ophelia’s arm as he passes and dragging her along with him.
* * *
The trip back to the hab with the three of them carrying Suresh through a building storm is over in a blink of an eye compared to the endless wait for the airlock to cycle through its pointless decontamination session. The system is set to prioritize decon over anything else, including repressurizing.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, three days ago.
“Can’t you do anything?” Ethan asks, his breath fogging his faceplate. Oxygen is running low. Suit power is lower still. They might well freeze to death—or suffocate—before the inner door releases.
“Not from in here,” Kate responds, her teeth chattering. “Is Suresh going to make it?” she asks Ophelia.
“I can hear you,” he protests weakly from his position on the floor. Ethan has covered him with a cargo blanket, but she’s not sure it’s enough.
“Good,” Kate says, all briskness and business. But she looks at Ophelia, still waiting for an answer.
Which Ophelia doesn’t have. His right glove is alarmingly bloated, and he still can’t feel anything on that side. “As soon as we’re in, someone needs to get the PMU,” she says. Though she already has her doubts about what it will be able to do in this situation.
“I’m on it,” Ethan says.
Finally, finally, the airlock repressurizes, and with a final blast of air, as if they’ve been rolling around in dirt and need to be brushed off as well, there is the welcoming beep and a green light above the airlock’s inner door.
Kate releases her helmet with an audible gasp of relief, dropping it to the floor, and then charges forward to shove open the door.
Ethan and Ophelia do the same. The air smells blessedly clean and medicinal, even though Ophelia knows it won’t do a thing to help in this situation, just sting their eyes and noses.
Ophelia kneels down to take off Suresh’s helmet as well. His skin has a gray tinge, shiny with visible sweat. Blood and black spatters dot his chin and neck. Beneath the collar of his suit she can see where both have soaked into his jumpsuit beneath.
“Why?” she asks. “Why did you touch it?”
“I … I heard my mother,” he says quietly. “She was calling to me. Telling me that my aunties were waiting, that our meal was ready. It felt so real.” A tear breaks loose and rolls down his temple. “It was like I was there. My mother was pulling on my hand, tugging me closer, and then … then you were there and I was on the ground.”
“She’s alive?” Ophelia asks, on impulse.
He frowns. “What? My mother? Yes. As far as I know. Why would you—”
Ophelia shakes her head. “Never mind.”
Ethan gives her an odd look as she straightens up. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” Still trying to figure out the unfigureoutable. She hesitates. “Your mother, Suresh … you love her?”
Ethan stares at her.
“What are you talking about? She’s my mother. Of course I love her!”
Ophelia holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay.” Love and hate are both strong emotions—usually complicated ones as well.
A loud clattering comes from inside, followed by the unmistakable screech of metal on metal.
“I moved the table in the central hub closer,” Kate says, breathless on her return.
That’s a good idea. Better not to waste time hauling Suresh back to Ophelia’s office. Plus there’s a limit to how long a tourniquet can be in place before the limb is lost. She remembers that, but not exactly how long that is. Her training only covered this old-fashioned crap as a last-ditch measure. More as an oddity, like using two pieces of wood to create friction to start a fire instead of just using a fucking plasma lighter.
“Ready?” Ethan asks, crouching behind Suresh to lift his upper torso.
Ophelia nods.
“Ready,” Kate says.
With a grunt of effort, Ethan lifts Suresh, and Kate and Ophelia pull Suresh’s legs up from the ground. He is quiet. Not so much as a whimper.
The three of them—four, technically—make their way awkwardly over the threshold and into the central hub, where the table is, as promised, much closer.
Ethan steps carefully to the side of the table and swings Suresh sideways over the table, letting him down gently when Suresh’s backside connects with the table. Ophelia and Kate follow suit, placing his legs down in alignment.
“Don’t roll off,” Kate warns Suresh, as Ethan disappears down the A side corridor to grab the PMU.
“So much fuss over little old me,” Suresh murmurs, his eyelids fluttering down.
“And try to stay awake,” Ophelia adds abruptly.
Kate’s eyes go wide. “Why the fuck would he want to do that?” she demands. “He’s in pain—”
“Because I think it matters. It seems to get worse, the symptoms, when we’re not conscious.” And Suresh is not in pain, which Ophelia thinks is very much the issue. Some part of him seems to be already lost to that thing. If he goes to sleep, they might lose him entirely.
