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Templemer, planet Hoarfrost, Lupasha System, Coro Region, Tolo Arm
January 13th, 2038
Pain. Soul-searing pain and the relentless rush of icy water over his body was all Terry felt. The headset inside his rebreather helmet screamed an alarm, and the little heads-up display showed his drysuit heater was failing. He felt ice-water needles spreading along his back, and ripping pain in his side and left leg.
What’s happening? he thought, struggling to understand. One moment he’d been swimming toward the dome, the next something hit him. Water was rushing past him, and he was bent over backward. Something had his side and leg. He struggled to look down. He was in near absolute darkness, only the two wildly spiraling LED lamps in his helmet providing any illumination.
A dark mass to his left blocked the light. He turned his head and saw an eye looking at him. His mind cleared with an electric jolt of adrenaline. Something had him in its mouth! For a split second his darkest fear came to life. One of the orcas had attacked him. Then his pain-fogged mind focused on the eye enough to discern details. It was silvery in color, with a red rim and two irises. Two irises! Selroth-native species had two irises.
It’s gotta be an Oohobo, the little part of his brain still working on a logical level thought. None of the other Selroth-native carnivorous species were big enough to do more than nibble your toes. The water between him and the huge eye was momentarily tinted red. Blood. More specifically, Human blood.
“Not all aliens have red blood,” Doc had pointed out anecdotally during an MST class discussion. It was one of those talks the other teachers back in Molokai wouldn’t have approved of, but had the normally bored students on the edge of their seats.
He shook his head to clear it. The pain and cold were making him drift. Hundreds of hours of diving with Doc had driven home many lessons. One of them was, when you lost concentration, you were in the most danger. Another was sharks. The predators weren’t common in the Hawaiian waters. However, Doc said the smartest thing to do was to avoid them. They were usually more scared of you than you were of them. But if they tried to attack, hurt them.
He couldn’t use his left hand; it was pinned to his side. His right hand was free, and he stretched down. Tearing pain shot through his left side. He screamed and reached anyway, bending his right leg back to meet his hand. Fingers numbed with cold felt something hard, and he wrapped them around the object and pulled it free.
His vision was beginning to swim, and water was trickling into the helmet. The seal was failing. Terry fixed his grip on the handle, brought it around, and plunged the dive knife into the eye with a visceral scream and all the strength his 12-year-old, cold-deadened muscles could manage, driving it in to the hilt with a Chunk!
There was an explosion of pain, and he was flung free of the Oohobo’s grip. A second later, the pain was mostly gone, replaced by the numbness of extreme cold. His suit’s air heater had failed. He shook his head again, trying to clear his vision. The heads-up said the heater was out, buoyancy stability was unresponsive, power was down to 29%, and backup power was automatically tied into rebreather functions. Bad news all around.
He looked down, his helmet lights panning over his body, and gasped when he saw his left leg. The suit was torn, and shredded tendrils of flesh floated like ghostly fingers. Despite the training, panic hit him. He tried orienting with kicks of his legs, and the left one wouldn’t respond. The panic grew into terror. He swung his head around, searching for the Oohobo. He found it only a few meters away.
The monster was easily 10 meters long, longer than an orca, but thinner. It reminded him of an alligator with an overly-long mouth full of too many teeth, and three sets of flippers instead of limbs. It was shaking its head furiously, trying to dislodge Terry’s knife, which was still lodged in the beast’s eye. Purple fluid jetted from the wound.
As it floundered, it turned onto its right side, and its good eye caught sight of him. Instantly it stopped shaking and locked eyes with him. Despite the pain, the fog in his brain, and the icy cold threatening to consume him, he fought the panic away and prepared himself as best he could. The Oohobo opened its mouth and shot toward him, but blurs of black and white rocketed past him to either side. A pair of 10-ton missiles composed of flesh and bloody vengeance collided with the Oohobo like hurtling freight trains. Brilliant white teeth flashed and tore at the monster.
Terry sighed and began to float downward. He feebly tried to correct his orientation to what felt like up and down, but failed. His arms didn’t seem to want to follow his instructions. Traitors, he thought. The heads-up display said power was zero, all systems failing.
Something warmer than the water, a huge, soft pillow with dull, pointy edges gently engulfed him, and he felt the icy water begin to rush past.
“Have you,” he heard. “Safe.”
“I’m already dead,” he whispered, and the darkness took him.
* * * * *
