Swamped

It looks like Sally is dangling upside-down from the rigging. She's facing away. Does she think you can't see her?

Wait. She seems to have noticed something. She turns around...

And she's dead? What?

Then she screams.

A moment later, you're staring at her very much alive and very concerned face.

"What's wrong?"

You don't answer right away, and you must look quite confused, because she feels compelled to clarify.

"You were screaming wildly."

Wait, you were...? But wasn't that her...? Damn, it must be worse than you thought.

"I don't think I'm getting any better right now," you say, after you clear your head enough to speak. "Seeing things again. At this rate it might be best to just hurry to the infirmary."

"Gotcha." She grabs your arm. "Don't think too hard about where you're going, just follow my lead."

You appreciate the help, because you soon have a huge headache. You can't even keep your eyes open most of the time, and when you do, everything looks muddled. You're rapidly losing your grip.

And then, suddenly, you wake up, and find a strange mask on your face.

"...my fault."

Isn't that Donnie's voice?

"Every test indicated there wasn't that much gas still in the system, so I thought it would be safe to let it out naturally. But damn, Chip even mentioned hallucinating to me! I should have known something was wrong."

"I'm not here to listen to your self-pity, Donnie. I'm here because I need to know if I still have a navigator."

That sounds like... the captain?

You try to call out, but find you don't have much of a voice. Does this have something to do with the mask?

"Not for the rest of the day, and I wouldn't wager much on tomorrow. After that, well, we'll see."

"I suppose we can manage for a day and a half. It would help if I could at least check in to talk."

"Well, I'll see how treatment is progressing."

At that point, Donnie walks into view.

"Can you see me?" he asks.

You nod.

"Good. Then you're starting to recover. You were barely lucid when you came here. It seems the glaxin is hallucinogenic after all. What we've done is hook you up to a modified breather mask, which is putting small amounts of another gas in your system. That particular gas neutralizes glaxin, though it'll take about six hours to finish it completely. Until then, I'm afraid you won't be talking much."

You make a vague, frustrated gesture.

"Yes, it's going to be hard to communicate. To help with that, I've left a bell on your bedside table."

You glance over at it and pick it up. It's a nice bell, but you can't say that.

So instead you just ring it. Closest you can get to a "thank you", you suppose.

"It's not perfect, but it should only have to last about six hours. Eating and drinking isn't viable with the mask on either, so I suppose that's going to have to wait. Entertainment... well, we've already been over books. So, hmm, what else might you need..."

Before Donnie can finish that thought, the captain barges in. He looks distinctly unhappy.

"I wanted a straight answer, Donnie. What's taking so long?"

"Sorry. I wanted to assess Chip's condition first. Recovery seems to be going well, but it's still going to be about six hours before that mask can go off. And talking's not an option while it's gone."

"What about writing?"

"Chip only knows how to read Graelandic. Do you know how to read that?"

"No," the Captain admits.

"And neither do I, beyond a small number of common words. So unless you can find someone to interpret, you're going to have to think of questions that can be answered with a bell."

"With a bell? How's that even going to work?"

"I was thinking, ring once for yes, twice for no. Or something like that."

The captain mulls this over for a bit, then suddenly asks you a question you weren't expecting.