Brian Evenson - Dead Space - Martyr

“This is Plotkin,” Hennessy said, speaking his code name into the mic. “Are you there, dropship? Are you reading me?”

Tanner’s voice crackled to life in his ears. The man was there on the holoscreen as well, his image crisp, well defined. “Hearing and seeing you loud and clear,” Tanner said. “Everything a go?”

“Roger,” said Hennessy. Dantec confirmed.

“Proceed when ready, Plotkin,” said Tanner.

Hennessy stayed for a moment with his hands on the controls, then cut the vid link and dived.

Now it is just a matter of time, thought Hennessy, four or five hours . He leaned back and stretched. At first they went down slowly, then a little faster. He was careful to adjust. The air in the F/7 had grown thick and noticeably warmer. He had Dantec check the oxygen recirculator even though he knew it was just the climate system kicking in, that it was deathly cold outside.

There was, from time to time, the flash of a fish through their running lights, though as they descended farther and farther, this became more and more rare. Mostly it was just the two of them in the cramped vessel, breathing each other’s air, waiting, just waiting.

His head hurt. It seemed like it was always hurting these days. He turned slightly in his seat and cast a brief glance at Dantec, who was staring at him, with steady eyes.

“What is it?” asked Hennessy.

“What’s what?” asked Dantec.

Hennessy turned back. That guy’s enough to freak anyone out, he thought. It seemed to get even hotter. The air became even more oppressive and difficult to breathe.

Another hundred meters. He’d never considered how small it was inside the F/Seven. But now that they were descending and the instruments didn’t need much attention, that was all he could think about. He was sweating. It was really pouring off him, buckets of it. He felt as if he could drown in his own sweat.

He laughed.

“What?” asked Dantec.

He laughed again. He couldn’t help it; he knew it was absurd to think of drowning in your own sweat, but what if it happened? It was absurd, but all of this was absurd.

“Take a deep breath and get a hold of yourself,” said Dantec.

He knew Dantec was right. The last thing he wanted was to dissolve into hysteria here, in a craft hardly bigger than a winter coat, miles from help. No, he couldn’t do that, no. But then, there it came, another chuckle.

He heard Dantec’s seat belt click off and then suddenly the man was there beside him, leaning on the instrument panel, the bathyscaphe listing slightly for just a moment before correcting itself.

He chuckled again and Dantec reached out and clamped his hand around his throat. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

“Listen,” said Dantec. “We can do this two ways. We can do it with you alive or we can do it with you dead. It doesn’t matter to me which way we do it.”

He struggled, but Dantec was too strong. He had never felt anything like it, had never been so afraid. He was beginning to black out, red spots blotting out his vision. He kept gulping for air, but getting nothing.

Finally, when he was just on the verge of passing out, Dantec let go, gave him a long hard stare, and slowly returned to his seat as if nothing had happened. Hennessy sucked in air, panting, massaging his throat.

“All right now,” asked Dantec, his tone flat. Less a question than a command.

“Yes,” Hennessy said, and was surprised to find he did feel a little better, a little more in control of himself. Though his head now throbbed even worse than before.

Hennessy checked the controls. They were still on course. Had Dantec’s actions really been necessary? It was just a little giggle after all, nothing to get upset about. But Dantec had overreacted, had made a big thing of it. Someone could have gotten hurt. What had Tanner been thinking, confining Hennessy to this sinking coffin with a madman? Maybe Dantec was stronger, maybe Hennessy couldn’t do anything now, but let him get back on land and he’d know what to do. He’d file a formal complaint. He’d go to Tanner and tell him about Dantec’s behavior and demand the fellow’s dismissal. And if Tanner wasn’t willing to do anything, he’d go over his head. He’d keep filing complaints until he’d gone to the very top, to Lenny Small himself. Surely President Small was a reasonable man. And if even Mr. Small wouldn’t listen, then he’d show them all. He’d take a gun and he’d—

“A thousand meters,” said Dantec.

Hennessy started guiltily, the thoughts dissolving. “A thousand meters,” he repeated. He noticed a tremor in his own voice, but not too bad. Maybe Tanner wouldn’t notice. He put the vidlink through.

“Mothership,” he said. “Come in, mother.”

Tanner’s voice crackled in, weaker now. His image was present but less clear, eaten away at the edges.

“Here, F/Seven,” said Tanner. “Still reading you.”

“One thousand meters,” he said. “Seals good, instruments good, no problems to report.”

“Very good,” said Tanner. “Proceed.”

They kept descending. It seemed even slower than before.

“Everything okay at your end?” Hennessy asked Dantec.

“Fine,” said Dantec. “And for you?”

Hennessy nodded. When he did, it felt like his brain was rubbing up against the walls of his skull, getting slightly bruised.

“Is the oxygen okay?” he asked.

“You just asked if everything was okay and I already told you it was,” said Dantec. “ Everything included the oxygen.”

“Oh,” said Hennessy. “Right.”

He was silent for a while, watching the water illuminated by their running lights. Nothing alive anymore, or if there was, he wasn’t seeing it. Floating through a dark, undifferentiated world. It was like his dream, he suddenly realized, which struck him as a very bad thing.

“I have a headache,” he said, as much to hear the sound of a voice as anything else.

Dantec said nothing.

“Do you have a headache, too?” asked Hennessy.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Dantec said, turning to him. “I’ve had a headache for days now.”

“So have I,” said Hennessy.

Dantec just nodded. “Stop talking,” he said.

Hennessy nodded back. He sat there, staring out at the blank expanse surrounding them and their craft, listening to the creaking of the hull as the pressure increased. There was something else, some other sound he was hearing. What was it? Almost nothing at all, but it was there still, wasn’t it? Just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to interpret. What could it be?

“Do you hear something?” he asked Dantec.

“I told you to stop talking,” the other said.

Did that mean he heard it or not? Why couldn’t he just answer the goddamned question? He’d put it civilly enough, hadn’t he?

“Please,” said Hennessy, “I just need to know if you hear—”

Dantec reached out and cuffed him on the side of the head.

He doesn’t hear it, a part of Hennessy’s mind told him. If he heard it, he’d be wondering about it, too. Which means that either it’s something close to me, near the instrument panel or—

But the or, when he identified it, was too terrible to contemplate. So he bent forward, tilting his right ear toward the panel, bringing it close to each instrument, listening. He kept expecting Dantec to ask him what he was doing, but the man didn’t say anything. Maybe he wasn’t looking at him or maybe he just didn’t care. But, in any case, there was nothing. The noise was still there, but it didn’t grow any louder.

Which meant, he realized, that the sound was in his head.

As soon as he thought this, the noise became many noises, and these quickly became whispering voices. What were they saying? He was afraid he knew. He tried not to pay any attention, tried not to listen and—