Chapter Text
Scout stuffed their mouth with another bite of meaty, savoury slice of breakfast proteins. They had no idea how meat actually tasted like, but they supposed it was somehow close to what they were having. Food Engineers on Delta did they best to replicate even the stringy structure of muscle meat that kept getting caught between Scout's teeth. Miracle of science to grow these things from mushrooms and algae, they thought. All just to taste like something no person alive ever had in their mouth (hopefully. Scout didn't want to think about what they heard happened in some colonies) and be stuck there much longer than the meal lasted.
Sitting hunched over the table in the mess hall, Scout squinted. On the wall opposite of them, a fresh bloody growth stained the welded metal plates, a lone line of fluid rolling drop by drop from the solid part of it and between the screws and welds in loose zigzag. When they started the breakfast, it was barely elbow-lenght from the vent, blood reaching a few centimetres lower. Now, as they were in the middle of their meal - cup of tea granulate still untouched - the line dripping on the wall was twice the lenght of the growth, slowly running lower each time Scout chewed.
They swallowed, trying to get the stringy piece out with their tongue, but were unsuccessful. They did, however, found a tiny cavity in their upper molar, which wasn't something they could've dealt with on their own, so they ignored it.
It should worry them that despite the air conditioning and filtration systems working properly these annoying things kept growing back, but it must've just been how the moon's environment worked. It was far from the strangest aspects of the it and truth be told, it wouldn't surprise Scout if the station was abandoned because janitors here had more than enough of removing the gory vines constantly sprouting from every vent and a coup was staged. That's probably what happened: janitors removing the evil, exploitative authority with satisfaction that cleaning after blood growths wouldn't ever bring and then escaped from the AT-5, leaving it empty and unkempt.
Washing down the savoury taste from their tongue, Scout watched intently as the first drop hit the floor. Bit of food was still stuck in their mouth.
That was enough.
Scout stood up, heading to the storage for their cleaning kit. It was still early and they already managed to wake up, eat breakfast and get irritated by yet another gory surprise on the wall. They took a whole yesterday off from sitting in the hangar and decided to catch up on checking the vents and removing whatever was growing out of them.
Simon was dead, not moving anywhere and therefore could wait. When the dreaded [Oxygen.] message rang in the recording it was the third alert they heard - oxygen in the submarine was depleting slowly and steadily, not much of it left at this point. Scout pieced together what they knew and soon realized what was happening. Simon wasn't going insane - quite the contrary. Concussion, stress and dehydration must've finally caught up with him and caused hearing voices that weren't there to make him push through. Injured brain coming up with yet another way to keep fighting, pulling the man towards survival. If it meant teaming up with hallucinations, that's how it was going to be.
Not to mention Scout already had some experience in very similar matter and they'd never even think about calling themself crazy. It was just another way of dealing with reality and as long as it didn't hurt anyone - there wasn't anyone else who could've been hurt - it was an acceptable help. They tried not to think of the word "psychosis" just yet. What difference was between them meeting Simon in their dreams and Simon hearing someone during his final hours? Not much.
They still needed that one day off to process that.
One day that wasn't enough to convince the bloody growths to stop spreading, apparently - or perhaps they just missed that particular vent yesterday. Did they? Scout wasn't sure. They did clean one in the kitchen for sure.
"Keep this up and I'll have to get station's monthly allowance of cleaning solution just because of you, you stubborn- thing."
Grabbing a trash can above their head in a way that already felt too familiar for their liking, Scout stepped close to the vent and braced to catch the worm-like, slimy appendage.
Floating blindly through the impenetrable, viscuous darkness, Simon had no idea how much time has passed since the last time he saw Scout in their dream. They were just speaking - a rare comfort in this incomprehensible situation of being alive while having no proof of that other than his own suspicions - when an ominous low roar reverberated through the hangar and the next time Simon blinked, his eyes opened to a flood of blood pouring into every pore of his body and blinding him. It stung when the gore bit under his eyelids. If he could shed tears, he'd done that, but it didn't seem likely while still submerged - the next best thing he could've tried was to press his fingers into eyesockets to squeeze out whatever got inside and wish the remains wouldn't burn off his corneas.
His scars, still fresh and raw where the muscles and skin mended together, pulled on the body as he moved his arm around. Simon would've never expected a simple movement could affect so many different muscles - he felt seams as far as on his stomach and side. It took him a while to get (hopefully) most of the blood out of his eyes, but he had no way of knowing if it actually did any good - just reminded him to keep them shut.
Not that looking around could be of any real aid in the sticky void.
He'd sigh if he could, but he didn't want to risk inhaling more of the gore inside his lungs - he was sure they were already filled with it right up his esophagus, but taking more of it in willingly almost made him sick. Focusing as much as he could, Simon tried to orient himself in space - actually learning which side was up and down was priority if he had to navigate while blind, deaf and lacking any equipment.
Somehow he managed to move through the blood and his feet landed on a porous bottom or roof of a cave. He tried curling his body to reach it with his hand and patted the surface in search of anything that could've been littering the space. If there were bits of bone or these strange, spiky structures growing - it meant it he was on the bottom of the cave. Gravity worked in the blood just like it did above surface: pieces of rocks and bone would be scattered on the bottom and from what he observed while still looking through the camera, these weird bushes didn't grow on the walls or tops of the cave system.
Much later and still nothing but thickly coagulated blood bubbles as he searched, Simon started to suspect he was actually crawling upside down - until his hand got caught in something long, prickly and a bit hard to touch. It stung a little as if there were spikes, but he removed his hand slowly and carefully as not to damage his only arm. He checked again and briefly smiled without opening his mouth and getting more blood inside - it was one of the spiky structures that grew across the bottom of the ocean, growths well known from countless pictures he had taken. Patting the ground around it proved there were also other bits laying there. Finally, he knew something - just a first step towards ascension.
Unsure if it was just a small success or something really big, Simon formed a plan: since he wanted to go up and out, he'd try moving close to the roof of the cave. He doubted he'd find any, but if there was just the tiniest bit of dry pocket there, it would be a miracle to finally get a lungful of air. More importantly, he'd locate the nearest corner and follow it until he found any sort of corridor or space that felt like it lead somewhere else. He'd get lost at some point or another, but at least this way he would actually get a chance of getting out.
He tried to stand up as much as one could while submerged and doing his best to keep his feet close to the ground. It might've been a flat surface, but maybe few steps in one direction or another could tell him something. Getting around the spiky trap, to the left and straight ahead was more of it while right was clear. Bushes were denser in the area where he'd been dropped off for the first time and sparser in the cave system - or so he assumed, hoping he was right.
It wasn't like anything was going to get worse at this point, so he might've as well tried to follow his gut... as well as a path of coagulated bits and porous cracks on the wall. Simon managed to gingerly swim to the left until he met with a horizontal barrier. From there, he followed it, reaching to the wall every now and then to check if it was still there until it opened to a narrow passage that felt like it might've lead him somewhere.
Blood shifted around him ever so slightly, as if there was a different current in this new area. Simon soon had to stop walking and start swiming because no matter where he took his next step, spiky growths blocked the path. Heading up, he did his best to navigate in one straight line towards the top, hoping he'll stumble upon something - a rooftop or surface, at this point he'd take anything.
His way proved to be difficult - straying from the path because of blood shifting around his body and pockets of thick, coagulated blood pushing him aside - but he managed.
He managed right until something big and heavy hit him on the side, knocking the blood from his lungs and making him groan in pain at the sudden, unexpected impact. Sharp pain shot between his ribs and blossomed further, his whole skeleton trembling. He thrashed in retaliation, hand blindly shooting out in the direction where the hit came from. He was almost expecting something to bite off his other arm - if there was still a monster who stalked him, quietly following and just waiting for the window of opportunity to hit, he wouldn't die quietly.
Instead, his knuckles met the hard surface of something he'd say was metal, hot from the surrounding blood and covered in loose clots, sliding off. Simon cautiously touched it again, this time with open palm instead. His bruised hand touched around the crooked, oval shape and closed on what could've only been a link of a metal chain. It was enormously big, one chain likely almost his size, swaying gently through the blood and likely crushing a rib of two when it hit him, but it only made Simon realize something he's been waiting for all this time. This unexpected discovery could've been exactly what would lead him to salvation.
One end of the chain was somewhere in the void of the ocean while the other must've been still attached to something up above - something such as the intricate tow system installed in the hangar of the station. All Simon had to do was follow it, swim up and up until he didn't have to swim anymore.
He didn't think there would be a warm welcome party waiting for him above, but at least he hoped Scout wouldn't drop dead on the spot at the sight of unexpected, half-mangled guest stepping into the station.