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.
18
It was womb-like and quiet. No sound disturbed her drifting slumber. She bobbed in and out of twilight, opening her eyes for brief moments of clarity, gazing into the gloom through the glowing, colored-glaze of the gel, long enough to register that she was there and whole and mending somehow, before something like sleep swept her under again, to wander through unknown landscapes, to touch foreign stars, amidst the scores of remembrances Ei’Brai had gathered from the individuals his mind had touched.
Only the broken leg was completely immobile now. Her other limbs floated within the slackened web-matrix that anchored her, the mechanicals of the device still swarming over her like busy insects. In the hushed stillness, she was aware on some level of the filaments piercing her skin, threading her veins, flushing her body with various medicaments that made her want to move restlessly or slip back into the quiet recesses of Ei’Brai’s mind.
Her hands were limp things. She brushed them against herself absently. She felt numb and unquiet. She noted with faint surprise that her garments had been completely removed, giving the filaments greater access to her.
Ei’Brai was always there when she woke, but he was reticent. He occupied himself diligently with the incessant needs of the ship, rarely resting himself for more than moments. He was a soft reminder of life beyond the gloaming.
She dreamt of Alan…of urgent, open-mouthed kisses and swirling tongues…of heavy-lidded eyes and feverishly hot skin…of inhaling musk and tasting salt…of arms and legs restlessly twining…throbbing…aching…rolling…opening to him…her hands sliding over his broad back…kneading his flesh…rocking…her legs wrapped around him…panting for more…pulling him deeper….
She aroused to find her hips bucking against the ribbons of confinement, acquisitive fingers wending their way to seek release.
She felt dizzy.
Her body was tensed with anticipation, poised at the tipping point. With only a light touch, she was riding unending waves of bliss. It multiplied and compounded in her sleep-soaked, foggy mind, her body arching, contracting….
And choking.
Even as the last twitches of the aftershocks trembled, she fought for breath that wasn’t there. Her heart exploded in her chest. Her heels drummed against the floor of the tank. She gagged, tried to cough, tried to pull in nonexistent air, writhing against the bindings.
It was only seconds before the apparatus compensated, filling the alveoli of her lungs with a greater supply of oxygen in counterpoint to the pounding of her heart. But she’d had enough.
She thrashed—arms, head, feet—against the sides of the tank in a blind rage, desperate to get to the surface.
Ei’Brai leapt to her mind to calm her, to console her, to assure her it was not much longer now.
She didn’t care. She pushed him away, forcefully. It’d been too long. She needed to see the rest of the crew, to know they were ok.
She felt cool sedatives flow into her veins and grappled with the strands, trying to pull them out, to free herself. But even with the new strength of the additional air and a surplus of adrenaline, she couldn’t stop the flow of the drugs, couldn’t remove the latticework of strands tethering her to the device.
Her struggles gradually slowed along with the rhythm of her heart. Her muscles went lax and the fibers ceased to contract against her exertions. She could feel them resume their minute ministrations. A wracking sob rose to her throat that she was powerless to express. She closed her eyes on tears of frustration and drifted away, again.
She opened her eyes to semi-darkness. The glowing lights had been extinguished. She blinked. The drag against her eyelashes, the pressure against her corneas was gone. She inhaled sharply, and let the breath back out as a surprised laugh. She was out of the gel. How had that happened?
She heard movement and froze, every sense acutely attuned to the sound. She couldn’t tell where she was or how she’d gotten there. She felt for Ei’Brai, but he was silent, disconnected. She tried to still her frantic breathing and search for a clue to what was happening.
“Jane?” a groggy voice uttered. “Are you awake?”
“Alan?” Her voice sounded thin, child-like, and choked from disuse. She coughed a little to make it sound stronger. “Where are we?”
She could hear rustling movement, the soft, padding steps of bare feet, and the dry sound of a hand brushing the wall. Then Alan was looming uncertainly above her, shifting from foot to foot, an intense expression on his face. He was wearing some kind of oversized tunic, which frankly was a bit ridiculous. He seemed self-conscious and worried.