“Come up with me. There’s something I need to show you. I have a bad feeling about John, and we can’t leave Kau alone with those soldiers for too long or he’ll give away all my lies.”
“Bloody natives.” Mack smiled but kept the wrench in his hand as they headed out.
Cyan didn’t question his weapon of choice. Topside, she showed him the dark water, now spread beneath RURF. Off the bow, exposed rori cut a black road to the blue hole.
“Fuck all. What’re they doin’?” Mack stared down. “Looks like they’re headin’ out on holiday to feed the rēwera o korokoro.”
“Don’t call it that! John’s down there.” Cyan lowered her eyes and waited for them to focus. “Dear god. Their motility—”
“So much for inching along the bottom with their little feet.”
“They can’t be advancing that fast!”
Fixated, Cyan and Mack followed the movements of the rori horde, raising their heads to the blue hole, or as the Māori call it, the devil’s throat.
IN COMMS, RICHARDS gave orders to his men, as well as Kau.
“What’s all this?” Mack said.
Laptops from more of their black cases sat atop of the control dashboards, linked by wires and cables.
“Oh, hey,” Kau said. “These guys have some cool equipment, you should see—”
“That’s classified,” Richards said. “A need-to-know only basis, and they don’t need to know. We’re square on that, right Tāmihana?”
“Okay. Yeah. Sorry.” Kau went back to typing on one of the military keyboards.
All the screens blinked on with rock wall shaded in blue hues. Cyan walked over to a laptop monitor that displayed Smith’s vital signs. “I see what you mean by cool, Kau.”
“I’m coming up on Shelf 3, sir.” Ensign Smith’s voice came through cleaner than she’d ever heard. “Permission to head in?”
“Wait,” Cyan said.
“Is there something you want to tell me Dr. Blake?” Richards smirked.
“John was going to Shelf 5. We needed specimens from that depth to—”
“Negative, Ensign. Head to Shelf 5.” The captain turned back to the screen.
Smug bastard.
The live feed had unbelievable clarity. As he descended, floating white streamers ruffled all around him.
“His suit is impenetrable, right?” she said. “Their excretions can be harmful.”
“Yes, ma’am,” one of the soldiers said.
“Thank you, Simms,” Richards said.
“I’ve reached Shelf 5, Captain. Permission to enter.”
“Go ahead, Ensign.”
Cyan sat down in front of a monitor. Mack stood behind her. Ensign Smith hovered in front of the opening.
“Thrusters on,” the other soldier said.
“Affirmative.” Richards watched Smith propel into the cave.
Lights came on, illuminating dark rocky walls.
“Simms?” Richards said.
“All systems functional, Captain.”
Lighter bits of marine life, their excrement or what remained of them, floated in the water like dust motes drifting in air. Cyan synced her breathing to Smith’s.
“Do you see any sign of John?” Cyan knew it was a reach, but maybe he’d dragged the cords from the last image his camera froze on with him.
Smith lowered his head, giving them better visuals of the cave bottom.
“Thank you,” she said.
Sand and silt covered most of the floor. Occasional dark rocks jutted, but no cables, wires, not even a single fish came into view.
“Have you seen anything swimming around down there?” she said.
“Just me,” Smith said. “And this white shite.”
“That’s unusual. Can he? Can you, get a closer look at those rocks?” Cyan hoped they might be rays, skates, or nurse sharks.
Petty Officer Taylor typed on one of the black keyboards. Then Ensign Smith smacked head first against the bottom of the cave. “Dammit, Taylor!” Smith said.
“It’s hard to adjust buoyancy in small spaces. Hang on, or you’ll hit the ceiling.”
Cream swirled past onscreen. White streamers shot up from the sand.
“What the fuck?” Smith said.
“Ensign, report.” Richards leaned toward a monitor.
“Worms. Giant black slugs, crawling on my helmet. Taylor, get me up!” Smith’s heartbeat pounded from the laptop, and his breathing became rapid and shallow.
“Calm down,” Cyan said. “They’re harmless.”
The image went out of focus as Smith’s suit lifted off the cave floor.
“We can’t see them,” Taylor said.
“Switch to the suit cam,” Richards said.
“Yes, sir. Interior camera on,” Simms said.
Black tentacles from the sea cucumbers’ open mouths searched the glass for purchase. Their tubule innards stuck to it in a wrestle, like oriental noodles crammed into a package.
“Fuck, that’s gross,” Simms said.
“Can’t you get them off?” Ensign Smith shouted.
“With what?” Taylor said. “The grabbers won’t reach. Find something after you molt. Just keep your eyes closed. We’ll steer the ADS in.”
“That’s one helluva suit. Clever bastards,” Mack said.
“They’re not aggressive.” At least Cyan hadn’t seen them behave that way before today.
“You sure?” Mack put his face next to hers and stared at the screen. “These look like they’d eat his face if they could get in.”
“Something’s not right,” she whispered.
“Switch back to exterior camera,” Richards said.
Overhead lights flickered, the room vibrated then shook. Cyan steadied a laptop as it slid across the dash. Comms panels rattled around her.
“What’s happening?” Richards said.
“Mack?” Cyan said.
“I’m on it.” He headed out with his wrench.
“Captain, Ensign Smith’s reached the surface of Shelf 5,” Taylor said.
“Atmosphere? Systems?” The captain stepped to the laptop displaying the exosuit’s digital readouts.
“Sustainable, sir. All systems functional,” Simms said.
“Proceed with ADS removal.”
“Smith, keep moving your legs. It’ll feel like you’re walking up a ramp.”
“Do the thrusters work when he’s on land?” Kau said.
“No,” Taylor said. “A specialized hydraulics system takes over. That’s Simms’s specialty.”
“That’s enough, Taylor,” Richards said. “Simms, let’s see what you got.”
“Has the ground leveled off, Ensign?” Simms tapped the laptop keys in front of him.
“Yeah,” Smith said.
“Then sit down where you are and follow standard molting procedures. Take it slow.”
“Affirmative.”
“Okay, suit separation in three, two, one,” Simms said.
Popping then wheezing came through the speakers.
“Systems?” Richards said.
“Stable, sir,” Simms said. “Ensign Smith, you can molt now. Don’t forget to connect A/V to your wetsuit and turn the system on after you crawl out of ADS.”
“Affirmative,” Smith said.
“What’s ADS?” Kau said.
Simms turned to him. “It stands for Atmospheric Dive Suit, but we call ours a mix of names because it borrows ideas from most of them like the Newtsuit, Exosuit, and the WASP. Ours is lightweight, maneuverable, and specially designed for ease of—”
“Shut it, Simms,” Richards said.
“Sorry, Captain.” Simms focused on his laptop.
Richards pressed a key and spoke down toward the monitor. “Any sign of Dr. Blake?”
“Negative, sir.”
Cyan stood. “I wonder what’s keeping Mack.”
Mack’s voice came through the intercom. “Cyan, meet me at the quarters hall.”
“What is it?” she said.
“Now.”