Kane straightens. “Any dizziness or headache?”
“Yes!” Voller lifts his hand up. “And this weird popping sound? Or tapping?” He scrubs at his ear. “No one else can hear that?”
“You’ve already had the maximum dose of painkiller,” Kane says. “I can’t give you any more right now.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not doing shit,” Voller mumbles.
“No,” Nysus says. “No pain, no headache. Not yet.” He shakes his head, refocusing. “So, we look at the commonalities. We have four people—Kane, Lourdes, Captain Gerard, and me—experiencing hallucinations of people to whom we’re emotionally tied.”
“That’s not—” Lourdes objects.
“People who are, as far as we know, alive,” Nysus continues as if she hadn’t spoken.
Kane flinches.
“Another commonality. None of this started until we were on board theAurora. Now correlation is not causation, obviously, but given what we know of the events involving the passengers and crew on theAuroraprior to our arrival—”
“Something here is causing it,” Kane says flatly.
“We’re going to end up like them?” Lourdes whispers.
“No,” I say quickly, because I can see Nysus getting ready to nod, or, almost worse, shrug. But to be fair to him, that chaotic scene in the atrium we found in the Dunleavy footage is making a whole lot more horrific sense now.
“We’ve run every test we know to run. Everything came back within normal parameters, with the exception of the noise dampeners and that anomalous energy expenditure,” Nysus says. “No contaminants. No exhaust leakage. No unidentified bacteria at mass levels. Nothing that would cause these symptoms.”
“So what are you saying?” I ask.
“I don’t know why this is happening,” Nysus says. “I don’t know how to stop it. I need more information.”
“We could just leave,” Lourdes says. “Just open the doors and—”
“We gutted navigation on the LINA for parts, remember? Plus, the doors don’t work like that,” Kane says. “They weren’t meant to be opened from the inside. No airlock. Our suits would help somewhat, but we could end up with decompression sickness or worse. Unless we attempt to pressurize the whole ship, and that could take almost as long as—”
“I’m not fucking leaving,” Voller snaps. “Not when we’re this close.”
Automatically, I glance toward the countdown on the main screen. Fifty-three hours and counting.
“We also don’t know that leaving would solve the problem,” Nysus points out. “If we’ve been affected, infected… possessed… we might well carry it with us.”
“I think we should search the rooms,” I say.
“Uh, you did that already, TL.” Nysus sounds slightly worried.
Humiliation zings through me, a live spark zipping along my nerves. This is why I never tell anyone about what I’ve seen. What I see. They don’t look at me the same way after. “I know,” I say, working for patience. “I remember. But we were looking for bodies. Not for information about what happened.” What is apparentlystillhappening.
I hesitate, then add, “Also, they had spare oxygen masks and tanks in the suites on this level.”
Voller snorts, then squeezes his hand against his forehead in pain. “Fuck. You don’t seriously think someone has survived out here for—”
“No, but we didn’t search the whole ship,” I point out. “We have no idea what the conditions are like. And we left for several hours before sealing ourselves in. Plenty of time for someone to do… something. We should at least rule it out.” Again, assuming I’m not responsible for what Lourdes experienced. Though Nysus has laid a pretty convincing case that this is not simply a result of my “condition” or a second breakdown.
“Okay, okay,” Nysus says, wheels turning in his mind. “Highly unlikely, but maybe you can find something. I think we shouldalso consider the possibility that this ship has been out here for two decades and we have no idea what else might have found it first.”
Kane shakes his head.
“Ghostsandaliens?” Voller groans. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“In the absence of additional evidence, all theories are valid,” Nysus repeats. “Is it so impossible?”
