johohiha Shegoshel, little water suns, darted away from me when I entered the canal, but when I swam into the underground channel where it had carved through the rock, they resumed their lazy bobs, glowing all the while as I bolted an anchor and tied the first knot for the line I planned to lay. The water was pristine here, but the more people swam through and touched the walls or bottom, sediment would get stirred up. Clouded water was disorienting to say the least; a line to grab hold of would keep all of us on the correct route.
My armor and helmet had underwater settings allowing me to breathe, but I took comfort in the fact that if my armor malfunctioned, I had the ability to keep going for a few minutes. However, my colleagues didn’t, and I needed to take that into consideration as I scoped out how far the channel could take us.
The section I passed through now was wide enough for two hunters or three humans to swim side by side, though I would insist we go single file. About two and a half meters deep, the size of this canal suggested it was very old, having had time to widen from both solution-dissolving rock and exceeding its flow threshold.
The light from the bioluminescent creatures lent a gentle glow to the peaceful underground river, and I felt my heart slow to the most relaxed beat yet since waking out of cryosleep. I had three anchors left, so I hoped the channel would open up into a chamber soon. I’d passed two offshoot tunnels, but they looked too narrow for the broad-shouldered hunters.
Swimming another five meters, I placed another bolt. The channel widened here, and I swam upward to see if there was an air pocket. There was, though it was only about two meters in diameter. Diving back to my line, I tied a knot in it indicating the air pocket.
Two bolts left; I swam another five meters but decided to anchor my next to last bolt at the six-meter mark. The water sun population had dwindled in this part of the cave, and I wondered if it meant I was close to an open cavern, somewhere cave wildlife could come to the water and prey on them, or if the devil stars preferred the other side of the tunnel and kept the water suns concentrated nearby.
Another peek at the water’s surface, another air pocket. I tied a knot. I had to be closer.
One bolt left and ten meters of rope.
I’d been gone thirty-five minutes, so I checked in.
“Raxthezana?” I said.
“Ik,” he answered, and his voice further grounded me.
“I’m just about to the end of my rope but wanted to let you know I’m fine. I hope to find an outlet soon.”
“Thank you, Dear One,” he said, and heat flooded my face.
Endearments hadn’t been a part of my life for decades.
Determined to make everyone proud, I skimmed the side of the tunnel to the nine and half meter mark and bolted my last anchor. Cave diving was one of the most dangerous occupations in the universe, aside from space travel itself. Underground rivers were infamous for disorienting divers who couldn’t distinguish up from down or trapping them in currents that flowed into narrow chutes. Disturbed sediment obscured visibility to zero, and malfunctioning equipment left divers without air.
As much as I wanted to keep going, it would be foolhardy for me to proceed without more rope. Trying to compose myself, I swam upward to see if there was a break in the tunnel. My gloved hand touched a rock ceiling, and disappointment bore down on me.
I could swim back and collect a few more anchors and another skein of rope, but how much might we need farther along in the cave system? How much time did we have to waste on this route when we could be backtracking to the original entrance and making our way around the mountain base?
Swimming back down to the last anchor, I paused and peered into the murk ahead of me. My helmet light didn’t reach far, and when I pulled out the flashlight from its forearm panel, it didn’t shine much farther. Cloudy water didn’t help, and from my spot at the wall, I couldn’t see the other side of the tunnel. I bit my lip.
An opening could be just a few meters away.
Every minute of training demanded I give up and turn back. We could decide as a group what to do next. But my intuition told me there was an outlet ahead.
If I swam ahead without the line, tracking my hand along the rock wall, I might be safe enough.
Reason and heart.
Caution and risk.
The old CeCe—and—who was I now?
Peering into the dark water in front of me, my hand touching the wall at my side, an odd sensation thrummed all around me and tingled the fingers pressed against the rock.
Dammit.
Earthquake.