White light filled the interior of the pod, purer than even the best lights in the Facility. The walls — despite how he’d felt a few moments before — hadn’t moved. He knew at his core that they hadn’t, but the sensation had been so insistent, so real, that he’d been unable to reject it at the time.
With the hatch closed, only the round window offered a view of the outside — the same window through which he’d first seen Theodora.
The tightness in his chest eased just enough to allow him to breathe; it was a small improvement, but important, nonetheless.
Theo watched him for many moments, features drawn with concern, holding a wet cloth over his wounds. “You okay?”
“I will be fine.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you will. But I know a freak-out when I see one, and that wasdefinitelya freak-out.” Her brows fell, and she bit her bottom lip. “Look, I’m not one to talk, and I don’t want to pry, but…if you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”
Nostrils flaring, he drew in another ragged breath. She was right; he’dfreaked out, and the reason for it was so trivial that he couldn’t help feeling foolish. He’d never spoken to anyone about it — not a word in the two years since it had happened. Perhaps that burden had become too much.
Perhaps it had always been too much.
“The walls are…too close,” he said. “This space is too small.”
“You’re claustrophobic?” she asked. “I guess that’s not too surprising considering you live in the ocean. Doesn’t get too much more wide-open than that, unless you head out into space.”
“I live in a house built by humans,” he replied, “and I do not know that word.”
“I stand corrected,” she said, offering a gentle smile. “Claustrophobicmeans you’re afraid of small spaces.”
He frowned, keeping his eyes on her; he refused to look at the walls, even if he couldfeelthem nearby. “I am notafraid.”
“Okay then, you justreallydon’t like them.”
“Let’s call itanxiety, shall we?” Kane said through the console speaker.
“Either way, we can fix that.” She dipped her chin toward the cloth. “Put pressure on this.”
Vasil settled his right hand over the cloth as Theo pulled hers away. She moved to the console, swiping her fingers over the symbols on the projected display. He recognized many of the characters from the Computer in the Facility, and even knew some of their names, though he’d never learned how to put them together to create words and sounds.
“I’m glad this stuff is still functional,” she said. “And… There.”
Before he could ask what she meant, the pod faded away.
His tentacles twisted around each other as he stared, wide-eyed, at the worldoutsidethe pod. The console, seats, floor, and storage door remained in place, but the walls and roof weregone. He could see the beach, the ring of stones where they made their fires, the angry waves lashing the shore, the jungle vegetation waving in the wind. He tilted his head back and watched with wonder as raindrops spattered on the invisible dome overhead, running off to the sides to create a transparent shell of water.
“Better?” Theo asked.
He tentatively reached toward the sheen of water but stopped himself before his hand touched anything. It was best not to know for certain because…thiswasbetter. Much better. He shifted his attention back to her, meeting her green-eyed gaze, and smiled.
“Yes.”
“Good.” She returned to his side. “Now, let’s get this arm fixed up.”
She opened the case she’d placed on the open seat and removed several objects from within, including a gun-like device similar to the tools he’d seen Aymee and Arkon use to seal wounds. This one was sleeker and longer with a wide front end.
“I’ve interfaced with it,” Kane said. “Aim and fire, Theo.”
“What does he meanaim and fire?” Vasil asked, brows falling low.
“He’s just being dramatic,” she replied, removing the wet cloth from his arm. She grimaced and dabbed blood off his skin. “You’re gonna have to tell me what happened.”
He watched warily as she aimed the device at one of his wounds. “I was attacked by a sea creature that I have never seen before.”
“Relax, okay?” she said.