SUB-ZERO, page 6
Technically, the Endeavor had three elevators, but only two of them were used daily by the majority of the crew. The third lift had only two destinations and was used solely by Buddy’s coverall-wearing engineer team. It was a one-way trip from the bridge, to the engine room beneath their feet. And since the day they set sail, Buddy had done nothing but bitch about being too far away from his beloved machines.
“Everything is automated from here,” House had said during Buddy’s tour. Buddy had already agreed to join him aboard the research vessel, but the old coot had wanted an early look at his new workstation and was stunned to see it inside the bridge and not the engine room. That was six months before they set sail. To House, it seemed like an eternity ago.
“Automated don’t mean better, boy,” Buddy retorted.
“That’s Captain, Buddy,” House slyly corrected. “You know better.”
“Oh, right, sorry… Captain Boy.”
Buddy reminded House of his father. His “Pops” had grown up in the same era as Buddy did—a very racist Georgia. Most of the country was at odds with race in the fifties.
Still is now.
House knew there had been rumblings about him being re-hired simply because he was black. That didn’t stop him from hiring a nucleus of African American crewmen, though. It wasn’t at all intentional on his part. If someone had dark skin and didn’t qualify for the job, House didn’t hire him. Plain and simple.
House applied the same reasoning to his hiring of women. He believed there were plenty that deserved a job, like one of the many on the Endeavor. Bottom line, he didn’t discriminate and didn’t go out of his way to bring in minorities.
At the end of the day, House wanted the best people on board his boat. Period. If that meant hiring an old black engineer along with his “mutt” daughter, then House was happy to do so.
He loved his crew.
House had even approved Donovan’s hire, though the scientist didn’t know it. The captain had never met the headstrong man before. He’d only heard of him through the grapevine. Gianna had talked him up, initially saying that he was ballsy and hated playing the bureaucratic game. It wasn’t until after they began working together that House regretted signing off on him. Gianna was embarrassed for ever believing in him.
What a pain in the ass!
Halfway down the second set of banking staircases, House paused mid-step when he heard, “Hey, boy! Been a while, huh?”
House waved and mumbled under his breath. “Speaking of a pain in the ass.”
7
Now feeling much better, Donovan made his way to the sealed doors of his laboratory. He knew they were locked because he was the one who had written the guidelines of what to do if something like this happened. Well, not just him. He and House devised them together as the people in charge of their respective teams.
Thankfully, Donovan quieted the voice in his head—the one that was telling him to do wicked things. Like brutally murder Gianna House and everyone else on board the Endeavor.
He could even envision himself doing it too, something that had never crossed his mind…until now. Even in his angriest of mindsets, Donovan would’ve never ended another person’s life in cold blood. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it was the damned octopus that was responsible for the demented visions. The alterations weren’t only physical, they were mental too. So far, the only thing he absolutely knew was that something inside of the animal had infected him and was turning him into…
What exactly? he asked himself, unsuccessfully coming up with anything.
That was the question Donovan was hoping to answer soon.
He was buried beneath his winter gear so that the only part of his body that was visible was the lower half of his face. Twice someone had stopped him and asked why he was dressed to be outdoors while still inside the comfortable settings of the ship.
“Ever since the accident, I haven’t felt well,” he said both times. “I c—can’t seem to get warm.”
It was quite the opposite, however. Donovan was truthfully burning up beneath his layers. It felt like summer to him, and he wanted nothing more than to disrobe and take a stroll in the storm with nothing on except his own skin. It made no sense since he was still ice cold to the touch.
Donovan, an Arizona native, was continually acclimating more and more to the chilled climate. He craved it, actually. Back home in Flagstaff, he enjoyed the crisp nights as much as the next person, but now…
“How?” he asked aloud.
It was one of a thousand questions he had for his little friend. Reaching out for the locked door handles like he’d done countless times before, he instinctively pulled the sealed entrance apart with a shout of pain. The deadbolts snapped like twigs, as did his arms. Donovan pulled with such force that he broke metal and bone.
“Grrr,” he growled, amazed when the pain instantly subsided. “Huh?” In response, his body shook uncontrollably.
As quickly as the bones had snapped, he could feel them mending themselves back together. The breaks itched like crazy. But all Donovan could do was stare at his trembling hands with wonder. He was definitely changing—becoming something else. He was mutating into something inhuman.
Buried within an octopus’ DNA was the ability to heal from devastating injuries. They could even grow back limbs if needed. Besides being incredibly intelligent, they were quite strong, considering the way they were designed. Donovan didn’t feel like a marvel of nature. He felt more like a freak from beyond the stars.
The lab was a disaster, covered in a dusty film as a result of the waterless fire extinguishers above his head. The middle of the space was mostly cleared of all debris. The four examination tables that usually took up the center of the room had also been shoved aside. Everything about the disarray bothered Donovan.
Sitting on a nearby table, back in its flooded containment unit, were the remains of the creature that had altered his life forever. Alter, he thought, looking back down at his hands. It, the octopus, floated in crystal-clear water, suspended as if it were inside a stasis pod on its way to some distant planet. It had done more than alter his life…
Yes, a voice whispered.
Donovan shook his head, blinking hard. The voice was, once more, his—but not his. He didn’t say “yes,” yet, he heard it in his own voice. Something was definitely speaking to him, or…he was losing his mind.
“Eradication,” Donovan said, wincing at the word.
Holding his breath, he lifted his foot to step into the lab but stopped midstride. Something about it didn’t sit right with him—besides the state of the room. However, something deep inside Donovan urged him forward regardless of how he thought he felt.
“The voice?”
It, the voice murmuring in his head, could also just be a figment of his fractured mind, a newly formed psychosis caused by the trauma he sustained. In his delirium, Donovan could, realistically, see himself talking to himself like he figured he was doing now. It wasn’t that much of a stretch. He regularly spoke to himself while working, verbally solving formulas.
So, he decided to conduct an experiment, here and now. He would attempt to contact the other voice. Closing his eyes, he pictured himself sitting at a table, and directly across from him was an empty seat. Concentrating, he willed the other Donovan to show his face. Unfortunately, his focus waned, shattered by an onrush of nausea.
Gasping for oxygen, he opened his eyes and was relieved when the feeling dwindled to nothing.
So, he took in the room again while he caught his breath.
The only piece of equipment left powered on was the containment tank. It softly shined with the light of the LED cluster built into its base. The result was that the specimen shined from below, casting the ceiling in a series of horrifying, undulating shadows.
The quadripus was missing four of its limbs, and the fact that it wasn’t excitedly strobing as he approached told Donovan that it was dead. His heart ached as he came to that realization. He felt as if a family member’s life had been wrongly snuffed out, filling him with an equal feeling of rage.
Lifting his shaking arms out in front of him, he gently placed his gloved hands on the glass, swiftly retracting them and yanking the coverings off. The shallower veins in the top of his hands pumped and strobed, faintly displaying the same shades of blue the octopus had only hours ago. Soon, Donovan wouldn’t be able to hide the alterations—the transformation. Whatever it really was, would be easily noted by all. He couldn’t go around forever with his entire body covered. Someone was bound to notice, and when they did…
I can’t let that happen, he thought. I won’t let it happen.
He closed his eyes and imagined what he’d do to ensure his freedom. Would he play it safe and hide until they docked at McMurdo? If he did, then what? If he decided to go with that, he’d be stuck on Antarctica, quarantined in a lab as someone else’s specimen with no way home.
Arizona didn’t seem right anymore, either. He didn’t want to go somewhere warm and sunny. No, Donovan wanted to go somewhere cold year-round, like here, but somewhere with infinitely more possibilities for—
“Devastation,” he finished.
Donovan stumbled back, his eyes opening wide. The voice had come to him again, this time speaking aloud through his own mouth. He needed to figure out how, and why, it—he—whoever—was doing it. He needed to try and communicate with it again, and he needed to see if there was a way to reverse what was happening to him.
“A cure.”
Slowly, he reached for the pill-shaped tank a second time, trembling with anticipation. “Woah!” he shouted, feeling his body lunge forward. He didn’t tell it to do that.
Something else took control and moved him closer.
He tried to fight the unseen force but failed, his hands reflexively squeezing the glass almost to the point of breaking. He now knew for a fact that there was a second consciousness within him. Even though he was still freaked out, he steadied himself and slowly allowed the other “existence” to take over. “It” dipped Donovan’s head, and shut his eyes.
“Annihilation,” he whispered.
Donovan started to panic until—boom—he saw a sea of blue crackle to life behind his closed eyelids. Everything was in shades of it, but it swirled and shifted as if it were liquid, almost like he was underwater. Whatever the plasma was that was rippling through the specimen’s body, and now imbued in his, it wasn’t some potent form of venom—quite the opposite, actually.
It wasn’t designed to take life as poison did.
It was designed to give or improve it.
It was something conscious—and it was something not of this world.
He couldn’t explain it, but he understood it, what it sought, what it was. It wanted what every living thing desired. Survival. And, for that to ensue, it needed to multiply and grow stronger.
But how? Donovan thought, piecing together a plan.
The first thing he’d need to do was take over the ship, starting with the bridge and its captain. The thought had come to him immediately, and it came with absolute conviction.
The problem with doing that was that Donovan didn’t know the first thing about seafaring, or in this case, the navigation systems and mechanisms that controlled the Endeavor. He was a scientist, not a sailor. Plus, he was just one being. Donovan wasn’t a normal man anymore. He didn’t know what he was, only that he wasn’t the same as before.
He flexed his arms, chest, and back. Accepting his fate instead of worrying about it felt good. His grandfather died of terminal cancer and was so at peace with his fate. He told Donovan that coming to terms with his fate made him the happiest he’d been in years. His grandfather was also a man of faith and literally couldn’t wait to see his wife and parents again in Heaven.
“I’m not the same as before,” Donovan said, teeth clenched.
He grinned and replied. “No, Seth, we are better than before.” This time, his speaking voice was soft and soothing.
“Yes,” he agreed with himself, “so much better…”
But he—they—needed to know more about what was happening. If he could tap into his newfound gift and understand it for what it truly was, he might be able to use it to its full potential. There had to be more than what was already revealed.
“We are strong,” his gentle voice assured, washing his nervousness away.
“Yes…” they said together, the audibly spoken voices harmonizing perfectly, one higher than the other. He smiled wide. “Yes, we are.” Then, the last of the four terrible words that had been replaying in his head over and over again left his lips.
“Extermination.”
Seth Donovan smiled.
* * *
House’s earpiece chimed, warning him of an incoming call. Following the soft bing was the caller’s name: Gianna House. Never had he been more thankful for an interruption than now. Buddy began chewing him out as soon as he stepped foot into the engineer’s “office,” going on and on about House not coming down to “his level” anymore unless he needed a favor.
“I don’t ask for favors, Bud. I’m the captain, remember?”
Buddy laughed. “Not to me, you ain’t! To me, you’ll always be my ‘Baby Black Seabass.’”
House rubbed the sleep from his face, failing in the attempt. “You know that’s horribly racist, right?”
Buddy shrugged and grinned, amused with himself. “Good cookin’ either way.”
That’s when Gianna’s call saved his sanity.
“Oh, sorry,” House said, turning and waving, “I have to take this.” He hurried away. “Later, Bud.”
House scampered back up the first flight of stairs. The entire time he climbed, all he could hear was Gianna’s worried voice, and Buddy hollering after him. House was starting to wonder if the fumes were finally getting to the old codger.
“Dad,” Gianna said, “I think there’s something wrong with Seth.”
That sobered House up some. He had only been half listening while he was trying to make out whatever it was that Buddy was hollering. By now, House had left Engineering in the dust and was starting his climb back to Command, quickly bypassing Navigation before anyone could ask him what had gotten Buddy all riled up.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Well,” she replied, “I went to check on Trip, remember?”
Oh, he remembered all right, and he wasn't happy that it had been over half an hour since she had left to go check on him. He had expected a call back right away. She’s twenty-five, Sebastian. Give her a break! He shut up whatever controlled his inner monologue and turned his attention back to his daughter.
“He seemed…off…more than usual, I mean. I think he wanted to hurt me.”
House stopped dead, pausing his climb at the middle of the stairs between levels, the only private place the bridge offered.
What?
“How do you mean?” he asked, looking out to sea, away from prying eyes and ears. “What did he do exactly?”
“Nothing, really, but he wasn’t acting the same—said some hurtful things out of the blue and then stepped toward me like he wanted a go.”
House wasn’t sure if Gianna meant sex or a fight. Either way, it wasn’t good for either of them. Both warranted a sit-down with the seemingly distraught scientist. Only then would House know whether or not he’d have to beat the man to death with his own shoes.
“Trip can vouch for me…if you don’t believe me.”
Ouch.
“And why wouldn’t I believe you?” Gianna got awfully silent. “G?” Nothing… “G, you there?”
“Sorry, Dad, lost you there for a second.”
Lost me? he thought. That wasn’t possible when one of the two connections were topside. What’s going on with her?
“What the hell was that!” someone shouted.
He turned and saw what the commotion was all about. Through the swirling storm outside was a blue flash, out toward the bow of the ship—toward Donovan’s wrecked surgical lab.
“Hang on, baby.”
House vaulted the remaining stairs two at a time, yelling, “Sam!”
The XO came rushing over. “Already on it, sir. I have two ESD agents checking it out now.”
House patted Sam on the shoulder, happy to hear that two of the four members of the Endeavor Security Detail were already en route. He stepped away from Sam and returned to his call. “You still there?”
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
He smiled. “You know me.” He frowned. House wanted to be with her. “Need me to come down and put my size twelves in Seth’s ass?”
“No, no, no, Dad, I’m good. I’m gonna spend the night with Trip, if the storm permits—just in case Seth shows up and still isn’t acting right.”
“Oh,” he replied, “okay…”
Gianna laughed. “We’ll be fine, Dad. I promise. You should try and get some rest too.”
8
The Endeavor Security Detail (ESD) was the definition of distrust. Both House and Donovan were equally uncomfortable with them being on board. The four members of the special outfit worked directly for Damon Becker, and him alone. Becker, along with his superiors in Washington, had placed the team on the research vessel to ensure that House and Donovan were being forthcoming with their findings, and not withholding vital information.
What made matters worse, especially for House, was that his authority over them was limited to deeming their participation as either counterproductive or unsafe for the current mission and the people involved. So far, they had stayed out of the way with an occasional entanglement here and there.
The ESD members chosen to investigate the disturbance at the recently quarantined laboratory were agents Rick Abbott and Jennifer Grigson—and neither were happy about it. While both were ex-military, having each served multiple tours in the Middle East, Abbott and Grigson had, so far, enjoyed getting paid well to do next-to-nothing. They preferred to keep it that way too.
