Jess and Tony were curled up in her small bed.
“You trying to kill me?” asked Tony with an evil smile. His face was shiny with sweat.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” she replied, her head on his chest listening to his heart pounding.
“That your medical opinion?”
She laughed and moved up, propping herself on an elbow. “Hey, can I talk shop a minute?”
“After what you just did to me, you can talk about whatever you want,” he said with a smile.
“Seriously. I’m worried about the skipper.”
Tony wiped his face with his hands. “What’s up?” he asked.
“This is confidential. Like, I mean totally confidential.”
“Okay—shoot.”
“I’m serious. I could get in so much trouble. I could lose my medical license for sharing patient information . . .”
“Jesus—just tell me already.”
“Jim’s nitrogen levels are elevated, but so are everyone else’s. The ship’s at one bar now. We can’t stay down here at one bar indefinitely. Either we lower the pressure and the ship can take it, or we have to abort before the scheduled mission end date. But there’s no way Jim can stay at this pressure for weeks and weeks. He’s starting to lose it, Tony.”
“Why? Because he yelled at Theresa and Mike? Those two were careless and scared the living shit out of us. We thought we had a hull breach!”
“No! Not because of that. He came to see me. I think he’s hallucinating.”
Tony’s face went serious. As a submariner and navy diver, he was familiar with narcosis, the bends, and other problems associated with being under pressure. Exhaustion could easily cause narcosis issues. “Why do you say that?”
“He said Ian looked at him and said ‘help me’ while Jim was looking at him through the camera.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it? Don’t you think that’s enough? Ian’s dead. Jim’s seeing things and having nightmares. It’s either narcosis or post-traumatic stress disorder from having witnessed all this.”
“Doc, with all due respect, you don’t get PTSD from seeing one person die. And the skipper is a combat officer—he’s seen plenty, trust me. And if he was getting narced, the symptoms would be euphoric, not night terrors. The guy’s upset about losing a member of his crew. That’s normal.”
“I’m telling you—I interviewed Jim, and he’s not right. Can you decrease the internal pressure of the ship without killing all of us?”
“I dunno. Maybe.”
“Well, I think you have to think about it, because all of us are gonna start getting funny in another few days or weeks. Humans weren’t meant to be at one bar forever.”
“Or at twenty thousand feet for a year.”
Jess dropped her head back on his chest. “I’m sorry, Tony. I’m just worried. I don’t have anyone else to talk to about this.”
“Hey, you got me, babe,” he said quietly, giving her a hug. Within a few minutes, they were both sound asleep.
***********
Ted walked quietly back into the power plant and keyed into the secured biofuel room. There, in the green glow of the water, Ian floated in silence, his tongue slowly licking the inside of the glass as he fed on the algae. Ted stopped in his tracks and watched the pitiful soul floating in the tank. He was a professional scientist and an astronaut—and he was queasy.
He stepped closer to the tank, and when he was standing in front of Ian, Ian stopped licking the glass and peered at him through dead-looking black eyes. Ian pressed his hands against the glass firmly, the pads of his fingertips white against the glass. He pressed his face against the glass until his nose flattened. There was no doubt—he was staring at Ted.
Ted, not knowing what else to do, smiled and waved. “Hello, Ian. Can you see me? Can you hear me?”
Ian’s mouth repeated his plea. “Help me . . .”
“I am helping you. They thought you were dead. I know better . . .”
Ian looked so sad and needy inside the tank. He began licking the inside of the glass again, absorbing nutrition from the algae growing there.
“I’m going to get you something to eat, Ian. Stay there,” he added sarcastically as he smacked the glass in front of Ian’s face.
Ted walked down to the lab and cut off a bluefish filet from the bait stored in the freezer. He returned to the power plant and locked himself back in with Ian again. Ted opened the top of the tank just enough to drop in the piece of fish. Ian looked up and watched it float down before gently taking it in his hands. He opened his mouth and extended his swollen tongue, then bit down into the flesh. He appeared to suck on the dark meat of the bluefish as his tongue wrapped around it. He closed his black eyes in apparent euphoria.
“You were hungry,” said Ted quietly. “Still have remnants of a stomach, Ian? Or just a huge cavity filled with bacteria that need to be fed . . .” He folded his arms and watched Ian devour the fish. Within a few minutes it was gone, and Ian was staring at Ted through the glass again. Ian’s skin color seemed to have brightened with the feeding, and Ted decided he would bring a notepad on his next visit to make more specific observations. “Poor Ian. It must be so confusing for you . . .”