pieces of the wrecked ship whirled around them, smacking against their suits.
Another awful screech of tortured metal moaned through the depths as the
The temple roof blew outwards as the
The Temple of Poseidon, the very heart of the citadel of Atlantis, was now truly lost forever.
The noise subsided. Head ringing, Chase was almost startled to realize that he was still alive.
They had lost their grip, become separated. He turned, trying to catch sight of her. “Kari! Where are you?” There was no sign of her lights in the darkness.
“I’m here,” she said weakly through the distortion. “Behind you, about five meters below. I’m coming up.”
Chase looked down. Still nothing. “I don’t see you!”
“My lights have gone. Hold on.” A moment later, an orange glow appeared, the ghostly outline of her suit rising behind the small glow stick in her right hand. “My air system’s failing-it’s getting harder to breathe.”
“Are your thrusters still working?”
“Yes. What about your leak?”
Chase squirmed inside the suit. The coldness had spread. “Shit. I think it’s getting worse.”
“It can’t be a big hole, or you’d be dead already-but it’s only going to deteriorate.” Kari reached him, holding the glow stick in front of the damaged area.
“Is there anything you can do to plug it?”
“No. But there’s something
“What?”
“Put your thumb over it.”
“Oh.” Chase felt oddly embarrassed for not thinking of that himself. He looked down at the temple. A few of the
“It’s Nina I’m worried about,” said Kari. “For all we know, she was in the ship. Qobras doesn’t leave witnesses.” Even right next to him, the radio interference at a minimum, her voice was still weak.
She fired her thrusters, beginning their ascent. Chase held her belt with one hand, the thumb of the other pressed against the crack in his suit. There was a little digital depth gauge inside his helmet, the number decreasing.
Decreasing too slowly. With his extra weight, Kari’s suit could only manage less than half its top speed.
He struggled to work out how long it would take to reach the surface. At least twenty minutes. Probably more like thirty. And with Kari’s air supply damaged…
“How’s your breathing?” he asked.
“It’s getting harder. The regulator sounds like it’s sticking. I’m not getting a full supply.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Light-headed. And… and a little drowsy.”
The first symptoms of hypoxia, Chase knew. Oxygen starvation. There was no way Kari could stay conscious long enough to get them to the surface. Which meant he would have to work the thruster controls.
Which meant… he would have to take his thumb off the hole in his suit. He’d need both hands to hold onto her- the control stick wasn’t designed to bear a load. If he put all his weight onto it, it would snap, condemning them both.
“Kari,” he said, trying to sound calm as much for his own benefit as for hers, “keep your thumb on that wheel for as long as you can, okay? If you have any trouble, I’ll take over. Don’t worry. We’re going to get to the surface.”
“But if you take the control, won’t you…”
“Don’t worry about me. We’re going to make it. Okay?”
“Okay…” she replied, voice drowsy.
They rose in silence for another few minutes. Chase checked the depth gauge: 650 feet. Still a long way to go.
“Eddie?”
“Yeah.”
She sounded on the verge of falling asleep. “I’m sorry about Hugo. I liked him.”
“I’m sorry too,” he replied, a surge of anger rising inside him. He fought to keep it down. It wouldn’t help. Yet. “I don’t normally do revenge, it’s unprofessional-but Qobras is going to regret it.”
“Good. We’re so close, he can’t stop us…”
“So close to what?” No reply. “Kari?”
The thrusters stopped. Kari’s left hand dropped limply from the control stick.
“Oh,
But he had no choice.
He swam up, taking hold of Kari’s waist with his aching left hand as he closed the right around her thruster control. The cold dampness inside his suit was spreading. He shivered.
No time for that.
He pushed the control to full power. The thrusters whined to life again, the depth gauge ticking down, foot by agonizing foot. He swam, doing whatever he could to increase their rate of ascent. Despite his training and physical conditioning, he was rapidly tiring, the pressure and cold of the ocean sapping his strength.
Five hundred feet. Still nothing above but darkness. The damp chill spread up his body.
At four hundred feet, the first hint of light from the surface reached him, absolute blackness giving way to a strangely beautiful ink-blue glow from above. More fish appeared as they ascended, flitting past the interlopers with cold-eyed disinterest.
He looked at Kari. Her eyes were closed, and she looked almost serene. Chase couldn’t even tell if she was still breathing. Either her breaths were so shallow he couldn’t make out the tiny movements of her nostrils… or she was already dead.
Two hundred feet, and Chase realized he could see the sun, a brighter patch of light. The depth counter flicked down, one foot at a time…
The thrusters died.
Chase jabbed his thumb harder on the control, hoping the cold had merely numbed him, making his hand slip. It hadn’t. The knurled wheel was pushed as far as it would go.
The deep suits were meant to be used in conjunction with a submersible for descending-and ascending again. They weren’t designed to make the journey on their own.
The batteries were dead.
And they were still over a hundred feet below the surface.
“Buggeration and fuckery…”
He stared at Kari, then shook her, willing her to wake up and help him. Her eyes remained closed. It was all up to him.
He swam with all his remaining strength, pulling Kari with him. She weighed less than ten stones, but the extra bulk of her deep suit meant the effort was like dragging a burly commando, complete with pack, up a ladder.
Ninety feet. Eighty. Seventy.
Each foot on the depth counter took an eternity to traverse. He wanted nothing more than to stop and rest, regain his breath and let the burning in his muscles die away, but he had to get Kari to the surface.
Forty. Thirty.
Flashes of sunlight glinted mockingly against the waves above. But the counter was still falling. Ten feet, nine, eight…
