Dead Space: Martyr (39 page)

Instead of going through the next hall and into the submarine bay, they took the side passage and cut up and back, toward the command center. There were two more of the scythers, these directly in the hall, same lost movements, blocking the way. But as soon as he touched one with the plasma cutter, both of them attacked. Harmon turned and, wailing, fled back down the hall. Altman cut the legs out from under one, but couldn’t get the
weapon around before the other on was him, its scythes wrapped around him and drawing him in, its mouth pressed to his neck and tearing at it, making a moaning sound, the neck burning as well from whatever fluid the dead mouth was secreting. He cut into its chest and through its torso and its legs fell off but the top half of it continued to cling. The other one, legless and all, had dragged itself forward by its scythes and was trying to climb up his legs. He tried to pull the head of the first away, tried to drag it off his neck, but couldn’t. The cutter was still trapped.

He held down the button and brought it up, carving slowly through the creature’s torso then over to the side to cut off one of the scythes. From here he could shake it off, then stomp both it and its companion out of existence.

He stumbled back down the hall until he found Harmon. “Come on,” he said tiredly. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t have authorization to open the command center door, but Harmon did. The command center was clear, empty inside, perhaps because the Marker was there just above it. He went over to the console, found what he was looking for.

He entered the sequence in, found himself locked out. He entered it in again.

OVERRIDE? Y/N
the holoscreen asked him.

Y
.

ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODE
.

“Harmon,” he asked. “Do you have an authorization code?”

“Why?” said Harmon. “What do you want it for?”

“I don’t want it,” said Altman. “The Marker does.”

After a brief pause, Harmon gave the code to him. He entered it.

Immediately an alarm started to sound.

FLOODING SEQUENCE WILL BEGIN IN 10:00. CANCEL SEQUENCE Y/N?

“What did you do?” shouted Harmon.

N
.

The countdown began.
SEQUENCE CAN BE CANCELED AT ANY TIME BY PRESSING N
.

Harmon was screaming behind him. “What are you doing?” he was shouting over and over again.

Altman grabbed him and shook him. “I’m sinking it,” he said.

Harmon had a hurt look on his face, seemed ready to melt into tears. “Why?” he asked.

“To protect the Marker,” lied Altman. “It was down there for a reason, to keep it safe. And to kill these creatures. I promise you, Harmon, this is what needs to happen.”

“You have to stop the countdown,” said Harmon.

“No,” said Altman.

“Then I’ll stop it,” said Harmon.

“No,” said Altman, holding the plasma cutter up near his face. “You’re coming with me. Either that or I’ll kill you.”

The pressure inside the station had already started to shift. There was a trickle of water in the corridor as he entered, the process starting slowly, nothing that couldn’t be reversed. The system, he knew, would not commit fully until the full ten minutes had passed.

At first Harmon was in a rage, and then overcome with tears, which slowly reduced to sniffles and then petered out entirely. Altman thought for a moment he’d have to kill him, but finally he allowed himself to be coaxed, prodded along.

Altman looked at his chronometer. “We don’t have much
time,” he said. “I don’t know what creatures are still alive on the decks above or how long it’d take me to kill them. We’ll have to go out the submarine bay.”

“I didn’t know there was still a submarine there,” said Harmon.

“There isn’t,” said Altman.

“Then how—”

“We’re going to swim,” said Altman. “I’ll flood the bay and open the doors. As soon as they open, swim out as quickly as you can and make for the surface. There’s a rope. If you see it, follow it up. It’ll lead you to the boat platform. I’ve left a boat moored there. I’ll be right behind you.”

Eyes wide, Harmon nodded.

They moved out. Altman took the lead, stayed on watch. Nothing. There must be more of the creatures in the facility, but he wasn’t seeing them. He kept expecting them to crash their way out through a vent or to hear a door slide open behind him and find one suddenly looming over him, but no, nothing. That was almost worse than if there was something. It kept him tense, expectant, a coiled spring of energy that never could release itself.

By the time they reached the door of the submarine bay, there were two minutes left. The water was up to their knees in the corridor and when he tried to open the bay doors, they wouldn’t respond. He threw the override and forced the doors open enough that they could slip through, the water from the hall pouring in along with them.

He tried to shut the door, but couldn’t get it shut. As long as it wasn’t shut, he wouldn’t be able to flood the chamber. He called for Harmon to help him, but the man just stood there, motionless, staring down over the edge of the catwalk. Altman
finally had to yell at him, threaten him. Together, with Altman working the manual controls and Harmon pushing the door along, they forced it shut.

“Swim higher in the chamber as the water rises,” Altman said. “Keep your head above it until you get to the ceiling, then, once it starts to cover you, dive down and swim out the bottom. Got it?”

Harmon didn’t respond.

Altman slapped him. “Got it?” he yelled.

Harmon nodded.

They began to flood the chamber. At first Harmon just stood there, watching the cold water rise, swirling up around his legs, and for a moment Altman just expected him to stand there, watching, not moving, and drown. But when the water reached his chest, he suddenly took a deep gasping breath and began to paddle.

“Remember,” called Altman, floating now himself. “Up to the ceiling and then down and out the bottom and then all the way up to the surface. But not too fast.”

He tried to keep his breathing slow, measured. The water all around him was swirling and foamy, and it was some effort to keep above it. He watched Harmon, but he seemed to be doing all right now. Twice he disappeared beneath the surface, but he reappeared again almost immediately.

And then Altman’s head grazed the ceiling. He looked up at it and grabbed on to the grating there, holding still, breathing slowly in and out until the water covered his face.

He dived, stroking back to the controls, and opened the bay floor. Harmon was already down there, he saw, knocking against the metal of the floor, trying to get out. As soon as the floor split, he was through it and gone. Altman quickly followed.

·  ·  ·  

The water was much darker than it had been earlier. He struck through it blindly, trying to go straight out, and then turned and started to rise too soon, striking the underside of the bay. He swam out farther and then made for the surface.

It wasn’t as hard as going down, but it was difficult. The temptation was to go too quickly, which would have left him cramped and shivering and probably killed him. So, he went up slowly, all the while aware of the way his air was running out, his heart beating slower and slower. By the time he finally broke the surface, his lungs felt like they were on fire. There was a sliver of moon, just enough to see by. He looked around, saw the ghost of the boat platform, but no sign of Harmon. He spun his head around but didn’t see him.

“Harmon!” he called as loud as he could.

He kicked up, trying to pull himself as far out of the water as he could. Even then, he wouldn’t have seen it, if it hadn’t been for the way a dip caught the platform and showed him the head floating on the other side.

He swam to the platform, climbed the ladder up onto it, and stumbled along the swaying platform to its far side. The facility now had started to settle strangely, listing in the water. There was the roar of water rushing into it, or maybe the roar was from something else, the whole structure creaking, too, as the change in buoyancy shifted its weight, putting pressure on girders and links.

“Harmon!” he called again.

But the man didn’t hear him, perhaps couldn’t hear him over the noise. Altman dived in, swam to him, touched him.

“Harmon,” he said, “come on!”

He was confused and seemed dizzy, in a state of shock. Altman slapped him, pulled him toward the platform. He got him swimming again, though somewhat lethargically, and had to practically drag him up onto the platform once they arrived.

The platform was already listing, half submerged in water, being dragged down by the sinking dome. He pulled Harmon over to the boat and dumped him in, and fell in himself. Then the dome behind them creaked noticeably lower and the platform was underwater, the mooring rope between it and the boat stretched taut, the boat listing hard to one side, threatening to turn over. His fingers shaking, he picked at the knot, but the pressure had tightened it too much for him to loosen it. His eyes cast desperately around for a knife but he didn’t see one. There was an anchor, though, and he grabbed it up and began striking the mooring with it as hard as he could, trying to break it free.

The boat tipped farther, very close to taking on water. “Get to the far side of the boat!” he cried at Harmon, but couldn’t look around to see if he did. He kept hitting the mooring with hard, smashing blows.

Suddenly the boat bobbed back and threw him to the boards. It was only after scrambling up again with the anchor that he realized the mooring and rope were gone, that he had succeeded.

The boat began to swirl. There was a sucking sound as the facility began to go down now in earnest. He leapt into the driver’s seat and started the craft, throwing the throttle down hard. The boat leapt forward, but it was heading wrong, directly toward the dome: he corrected it, but there was still something wrong. They were caught in a vortex, some sort of whirlpool that the facility was creating as it went down.

Instead of forcing the rudder against it, he turned and followed it, trying to edge carefully free. The last dome slipped all
the way under and was gone. He felt the drag on the rudder but kept it steady, trying not to look to the side, trying not to panic. For an instant he felt the boat resisting him, threatening either to turn and plunge downward or to flip over, but then suddenly they were free.

He sped away, looking back over his shoulder. The inside of the compound, the little he could see of it through the waves, was flashing and sparking, the electrical systems and generator still in the process of shorting out. He had just a glimpse of it and then it was gone. He took the boat in a long curve then headed back toward Chicxulub.

He was just thinking he should check on Harmon when he realized that he was standing there behind him. He turned and was struck in the side of the head by the anchor, knocked out of his seat.

“You were lying, Altman,” Harmon said. “The Marker didn’t want to be sunk. You don’t love the Marker, you hate it.”

No,
he tried to say,
no
. But nothing came out.

He saw Harmon bend over him. He roughly took hold of Altman’s hands, put them together, began to tie them.

“I thought you were my friend,” said Harmon. “I thought you were a believer. But if you were really a believer, why don’t you have one of these?” He touched the Marker pendant hanging from his neck. “I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

I saved you,
Altman tried to say.
I could have left you to die, but I saved your life.

“Now I’m going to get some real help,” said Harmon, and he stood and took the controls.

Altman lay there, eyes glazed. A warm fluid was puddling up
against his cheek and his mouth. It was only when he tried to swallow that he realized it was blood. It took him another minute to realize it was his own.

Okay,
he thought.
I’ve been in worse situations.
He tried to move his hands, but couldn’t feel them. It was as if his body had become disconnected from his head.
I’ll just rest a moment,
he told himself.
I’ll just lie here and then, in a moment, I’ll wriggle free of these ropes.

His vision started to go dim, and then slowly faded away. He listened to the sound of the engine, then that slowly left him, too. He lay there, feeling the movement of the boat through the waves. After a while, it seemed to come only from a distance. A while longer and even that was lost. He lay in the boat, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling nothing. The whole world had dissolved around him. He tried as long as he could to focus on the taste of blood in his mouth. But soon he couldn’t hold on to even that.

Epilogue

And then it began again. It started first with a pinprick of light in the darkness at a great distance. He watched it, trying to determine if it was getting closer or farther away, but was unable to say. He watched it a long time, or what felt like a long time, until it disappeared again.

Darkness. Plain and simple. But a sense, too, of a body. Of
his
body, the limits of it.

I’m dead,
he thought.
This is hell.

There was a long moment in which nothing happened. The pinprick of light came back again. He did not notice it reappear exactly, just knew that it was there, and knew it had been there for a while. He watched it. This time it grew slowly larger. It was moving slowing toward him. Suddenly, it became excruciatingly bright.

Things began to take shape around it. A thin silvery casing from which the light itself came. Something pinkish nestled around it, which he began, slowly, to realize was a human hand.

“A little response,” said a voice, flat, uninflected. “Up the dosage.”

He felt something, a stinging somewhere on his body. Suddenly he could move the muscles on his face.

Where am I?
he tried to ask, but what came out was a dim, inarticulate sound.

“There we are,” said another voice. The light pulled back and he saw a face, half-hidden behind a surgical mask. Behind it were other faces, maybe a half dozen in all.