Not FanFic -- WIP, new Alkyone
2c - Shiver
Electric blue sparked across his field of vision, blasting him back into his chair and sending his body into a hideous moment of uncontrollable twitching. He came to in absolute blackness, limp limbed and sitting in a puddle of piss.
“Rais! My God!”
Lights blinked on, orange and dim. A face was peering at him, cropped dark hair, fathomless eyes; her hand reached out and stroked his forehead, swept down and pressed lightly on his jugular.
His lips began to move, finishing a sentence that he didn’t remember starting, “…power up th’ main control bank.” He blinked. “Or not.”
“What the hell happened?” Her eyes searched his. She nodded when she saw that he was able to focus and turned, not waiting for his reply.
Her fingers dancing unconcernedly over the switches and keyboard on the control board in front of him, giving him time to look around. He was in a small, windowless room, Control Room, his hazy memory supplied. She was … memory flashed, ricocheted across his brain just out of reach, and he gasped at the intensity of feeling that followed after, more powerful than the convulsions that had wracked his limbs.
She was Velia Leon, aggravating, competent, sexy, complex, his boss, too strong for her own good and way out of his league. They were friends. They were …
“Tucker! Can you hear me? What’s going on down there?”
A voice came over the speaker. “GODDAMNMOTHERFUCK!”
Her chin dropped down to her chest and she sighed in relief. “Copy that." She lifted a hand and pressed her fingertips into her forehead. "Chaput’s alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re both good. But, Vel, the goddamned door went down.”
“Tucker,” she pounded her fist on her thigh, “safety procedures are there for a reason.” There was a guilty silence from the comm.
He sucked his teeth. With the power down, the door to the blister would only open by the hand crank from the outside. Velia reached out and pressed the comm again. “Alverez? Alverez, do you read?” There was only the crackle of white noise. “Tucker, can you reach Alverez?”
He rubbed both hands over his face, listening numbly as Tucker called for the missing Alverez … who was … in the other blister … they were … installing the coolant fins … The orderly would be here soon. No. That was … he reached into his lap and groped his wet crotch. He couldn't remember ... he was … he was ... Damn.
He was at Base Seven, on the floor of the Arctic Ocean, installing the cooling fins on the number three power plant, not strapped down, not waiting for… His muscles quivered and he thrust the thought away. Something had gone wrong. There was an explosion. Someone was ... someone was…
“Alverez! Do you read?”
Alverez was dead. He knew it as if he had seen the corpse. He had seen the corpse … but that was ... didn’t matter. Not now. Now was a time to get … Tucker. Tucker needed out.
He threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged. Pull it together.
“Monitor,” he muttered. He didn’t know where the words came from, but they felt right on his tongue.
“Right!” Velia slapped the keyboard and a monitor lit, showing an image of a passageway that was slowly filling with water. “Damnit!” She poked at the keyboard and another image flicked into place, a different angle of the same scene, water flooding from an open door. A body was wedged into the doorway, bobbing gently against the torrent. With a strangled curse, Velia whirled around and kicked the empty chair next to his clear across the room.
She spun away and then back, eyes finding his. He didn’t know what she found there, but whatever it was caused her to take a deep breath through her nose and blow it out slowly past her lips. He felt his lips press into a grim line and she nodded. Yes, this is bad.
He ticked off it off his fingers, slowly. “Dead crewman, hull breach, trapped crewmen … air supply?”
Velia swallowed. “Tucker and Chaput are sealed in. They’ve got … half an hour?”
He looked up at the ceiling. “And we’re not due for pickup for…?”
She checked her watch. “Two hours.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “How are you feeling?”
He rolled his head on his shoulders, stretched his arms out over his head, brought them out, wide and, in quick succession, touched his nose with one fingertip and then the other. “Right as rain.”
“Well,” she looked away, studying the control panel.
“It’s a brute force job,” he said reasonably. “And I’m physically stronger than you.”
“I know.”
“Velia, I won’t screw it up.”
She stilled and then turned to face him, leaning back and bracing her arms on the console. “I don’t think that you’ll screw it up.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “Tick, tick, tick,” he murmured.
“Get a toolbelt together. I’ll get you a comm.”
Strapping on the belt, he squinted, picturing the layout of the facility. Everything was under construction, full of loose material and hanging wire. There were three doors in the control room: one that lead to an outer hatch, one that lead to the containment area and one that lead to the flooded service passage. The containment area also had a door that lead to the service passage.
She handed him the comm and he tucked it into his ear and adjusted the jaw mike. “Test?”
She adjusted her own comm and nodded. “Good.” Her eyes went to the containment door. “Containment has about three times as much volume as the passageway. But it’ll fill up quick.”
“Yep.”
Her eyes met his and she frowned. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
She flipped up the cover plate to the manual door crank and rolled it open. “Go.”
He stepped through the door and turned to watch her as it closed behind him. Her frown was thunderous. I hate this. Being left out, being left to watch, and not being in control. He shot her a grin, Sucks to be you!
The door closed and he heard her dry chuckle in his ear. "Asshole."
He nodded, “Ayup,” and walked over to the containment door. He’d have to crank it up.
As his hand reached out to lift the cover to the crank, he could see very clearly some other hand pasted over his hand, some other hand reaching out for some other door. He closed his eyes hard. He knew that what had happened to him was not normal, and pushed the thought aside. This had happened before, would happen again. Maybe it’d come back to him, who he was and what on God’s Green Earth was going on, but today was not a day for epiphanies. Today was a day for trying to keep his remaining crew alive.
With a grimace, he plucked at his crotch. That today was also a day to be pissing out psychoactive medications and convulsing erratically through time and space was acknowledged and set aside.
He considered the door for another breath and pressed himself against the wall, laying his cheek against its smoothness. There was nothing to hang onto. As he spun the crank, water burst out from the door seam with cutting force, from a blade, to a wedge, to a wall that collapsed inward and rebounded off the far wall, knocking him to his knees.
Something heavy crashed into the small of his back and he lost his balance, falling forward, arms outstretched, his face hitting the water and going under. Cold. He almost gasped with the shock, found his knees, pushed himself up and then did gasp, flinging wet hair out of his eyes. He had to force himself to breathe, force himself to move, to think, the water so cold that it burned. He pushed his hands against his face, warming his eyeballs and then blinked, turning blindly on his knees toward the door.
And came face to face with Alverez. Well, face to half a face. One dead eye stared up, sleepily half opened.
“Fuck!” He surged to his feet, turning away as Alverez bumped lazily against his hip.
“Rais! Rais. Are you alright?” The shout in his comm echoed around his head.
“Fucking Alverez always fucking dies!”
There was a pause. “Focus. The breach is in the blister that Alverez was working in. You’ve got to get that door down first.”
He waded out the door, not looking back. “Copy.”
The passageway was almost completely dark, lit only by the emergency lighting coming from the containment chamber. Something brushed his face, a hanging whip of romex, and he pushed it away. The water was above his waist, pushing against him. He reached his arms out into the blackness, thighs straining. His feet were numb with the cold.
“How’s it going?”
“Alright. Can’t feel my feet.” Pipes leaned against a wall. “Almost there.”
There had been a big stack of pipes in the passageway… His foot tangled and he lurched sideways. One hand slapped the wall, groping, and his numb feet skittered across the uneven floor. “Shit!”
He lost his footing and splashed backwards, the water current sweeping up the legs of his trousers, up his nose, sweeping him back the way he came. With utter certainty, he tasted blood.
Alverez.
Velia was shouting in his ear. His hands windmilled out from his body and caught something solid. It was the romex, hanging from the ceiling like a lifeline. He seized on it frantically, pulling himself against the current. The other hand grabbed higher up, and he gathered his legs underneath himself and stood, weaving and gagging.
“Alright,” he gasped into the comm. “Just … just s-s-slipped.”
Velia blew out a heavy breath. “Right.”
The water was against his ribs, now. He pushed himself forward, sliding his feet along the floor. He couldn’t feel them, but he could feel the shock run up his leg when they hit the pipes again, and could maneuver them up and over, finding level floor again. He kept one hand on the wall and realized that, if he stretched out, he could brace his other hand on the other wall.
He reached out, fingering the edge of the doorway. The current pushed against him and he stretched, fingertips curling. Another step and he could grab on to the frame. “G-g-got it,” he muttered. A long piece of pipe was wedged in the opening, holding the door up. “Gotta pull the safety m-m-measure free.”
Velia snorted. “The righteous guy ends up dead.”
“Yeah, w-w-well, that’s Alverez for you.”
Taking a firm grip on the pipe, he braced his feet on the either side of the door frame and yanked with all of his might. He flew backwards, hitting the passageway wall with a sodden thump, the pipe clutched to his chest. The door slid down as it was supposed to, sealing off the blister.
Frigid ocean water sloshed in the passageway and settled. “Got it.” He turned toward the other blister, clutching the pipe, using it like a walking staff. “I g-g-ot it.”
“Say again?”
A shiver worked its way across his shoulders and chest. “ ‘S c-c-cold.” He could see the door to the other blister. “T-t-tell T-T-T,” he pressed his lips together and tried again. “Tucker. Get. Back. Away. Door.”
“Shit. Hold on, Rais. You’re almost there. Don’t ...” He could hear her pounding on something.
“Yer so f-f-f-phyisical,” he muttered.
“Don’t you fucking die!”
“Not. Plannin’. On. It.” He realized that he was standing outside of Tucker’s door. He lifted a hand to the cover of the manual crank. Shit. He’d let his hand fall into the water as he walked and now his fingers wouldn’t move. Slowly, without thinking, he brought his up and laid it on the back of his neck. Holy Christ! A spasm ran from his neck down his spine, almost knocking him to his knees. He brought his hand to the front of his neck, tucking his fingers under his chin. Slowly, he worked them into a fist - close, open, close.
“Rais?”
“Yer a-a-always buggin’ me. Y’ d-d-don’t t’ink I c’n do shit, d-d-do you?”
“I can see your right shoulder. Are you at the door? You,” he could hear her swallow, “you’ve done very well. I … Rais … I wouldn’t have made it.”
She was being nice, placating him, and it made him smile. Ooh, that must’a hurt… He bunched his fingers again, and opened them. “M-m-m’ f-f-fingers c-c-cold. Good n-n-now.” A part of his mind noted that things were going hazy. But he’d made it. His hand was lifting the cover; his fingers were grasping the crank and turning it…
Water rushed into the sealed room, and he was swept off his feet and sucked through the door, his arms and legs tangling with someone else, both of them smacking against the wall.
“Fuck! Is he dead? Shap, grab him! He’s goin’ under.”
“Christ! He’s blue! We’ve gotta get him out of this water! Wait, Tucker, bend down, yeah, grab his arms. There! Ya got him? I’ll go under and get the door the rest of the way up.”
“T-t-t-t…uk..”
Tucker hitched him up, grabbing his thighs in a piggy-back carry so that his chin rested on the man’s shoulder. “Shit, Rais,” Tucker looked out the corner of his eye at him, “you’re like a friggin’ popsicle.”
“G-g-good t’ s-s-see you t-too.” He burrowed into the other man’s back. “Yer w-w-warm.”
“Hey!” Tucker’s shoulder blades twitched. “Don’t go all homoerotic on me!”
“Y-y-you w-w-wish.”
The door went smoothly up, Chaput on the other side, dripping and shivering. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Word.”
It was a short slog to the containment chamber. “W-w-wait. Wait.” He lifted his fist and let it fall on Tucker’s shoulder. “Alverez is in there. He’s d-d-dead. He’s really, really d-d-dead.”
Tucker and Chaput paused. “Yeah,” Chaput said, and forged ahead.
“Glad you made it, T-t-tuck.” His mind was wandering and some inner voice was beginning to fret. “Danger, W-w-will Robinson,” he slurred into Tucker’s shoulder. “Riders on t’ S-s-storm are c-c-coming.” Tucker waded into the containment chamber.
Velia spoke into his ear, “He’s hypothermic; get him in here, Tucker.”
“Where were you, Velia?” He shook his head. “You l-l-left me. You left me, little b-b-bits of you all over the f-f-fuckin’ place. We c-c-couldn’t even find your f-f-fuckin’ ID…”
Tucker came to a sudden stop. “What?”
“You left me, and they took me b-b-back.” He was weeping now. “They gave m-m-me shock, Velia.”
“Tucker! Move! Get him in here!”
Tucker turned his head slowly, eyes wide. “Gunny?”
He beamed through his tears. “Well, f-f-fuck me sideways!” he giggled. “You r-r-remembered!”
Tucker dropped him into the icy water and scrambled away. He pulled himself up and stood swaying. Velia was screaming in the comm, so he tore it off and threw it away. Tucker backed into Alverez, looked down and jumped sideways. In two strides, Tucker was pounding on the control room door. “Open up! Velia, open the fuck up!”
He began to count, one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand… Tucker went still and turned to look at him. That didn’t take long. He smiled at the younger man. “She’s telling you to calm down, hey?” He couldn’t help himself; another giggle trickled out from between his lips. “She’s telling you to get a grip?” He leaned forward earnestly. “Don’t trust her, Tucker. She’ll leave you to them.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Gu..” He swallowed. “Rais. The water’s so cold, it’s makin’ you crazy. Makin’ us both crazy. We’ve gotta get you inside.”
“Oh,” he nodded at Tucker. “She’s g-g-good, isn’t she?”
“She’s right.” He waded through the water and grabbed the sleeve of Alverez’s shirt. “We’ve gotta pump this out so she can open the door.” He pushed Alverez out into the passageway and began to crank down the door.
Chaput opened up another panel and began to flip switches.
“Velia?”
Tucker flicked a look over his shoulder. “She says ‘what’.”
“T-t-tell h-her tha’ I’m s-s-sorry.”
“She says you can tell her yourself while she’s beating the fuck out of you.”
“S-s-so f-f-physical.”
The pump was clearing the chamber. As the water swirled around his ankles, he sat down with a spine-jarring splat. “Get in here, Velia!” he called. “R-r-riders on the Storm are coming!”
The door to the control room rolled open. He let himself fall onto his back.
“Rais.” She shoved her arm under his head and lifted him so that he sprawled across her lap, his head on her breast. “Don’t you dare die on me.”
“Fuck you. It’s m-m-my turn.”
“It’s never your turn.”
He blinked up at her. “That’s just n-n-not fair.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, well.”
“Do you r-r-remember, Velia?”
“Of course.” Her eyes searched his. “Remember, remember, remember.”
He nodded. “Remember.” She laid a palm on his forehead and he glared up at her. “I’m still p-p-pissed about the shock.”
“Yeah.” Her hand moved and patted his cheek. “But surely I made up for it with the horse race?”
A roar, a noise that was not noise filled his ears. He couldn’t see, couldn’t feel the cold, the wet, her arms. “Velia! Where are you?”
“Shhh.” Her voice whispered against the not-noise. “I’m already there.”
Ppfftt.