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?”