“Becca, release the suit.” Ethan took a long, methodical step closer to her, keeping his voice moderated, despite the countdown ticking against them. “Becca, I know you can hear me. Release the suit, baby.”

He waited. Her breathing was loud and harsh in his ears. Damn. She was breathing far too fast. If she didn’t slow down, she was going to have a panic attack. Through the thick glass of the face mask, she was wide-eyed, her cheeks puffing with her inhalations.

He was beside her now. Her nostrils were flared, her lips bloodless, her gaze distant.

“Becca.” He tapped her visor. “You okay?”

She blinked, her eyes focusing on him. “Yes.” She flexed her hands and the hydraulics finally released. Bubbles escaped from the neck of her suit, spiraling as they began their ascent to the surface.

How long would that take?

Becca stepped forward and he grabbed the rope he’d secured to her waist before they descended. His plated fingers contracted he looped it around his fist at the fastest plodding pace the mechanics would allow. Air hissed between his teeth in frustration. “I got you, baby. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She closed her eyes, giving an imperceptible nod within the restrictive confines of her helmet. “I know.”

“Let’s walk. One step at a time.”

The yellow beam of his headlight danced across the curve of her helmet. After a long pause, she took one step, then another. Finally, they were on the move and she drew level with him.

“Navigational maps,” Ethan instructed.

Information on his visor blinked and changed, the green suit diagnostics replaced with a geographic map composed of a red lattice, with the undulations, dips, and rises of the sea bed clearly outlined. Twelve thousand feet to the Geo-lab, the elusive number flashed above his right eye, providing him with a visual countdown.

The hard suit was slow and labor intensive as he took one measured step after another across the seabed. He willed his legs to go faster but it was like walking through treacle. Sweat popped out on his brow as he plodded, checking Becca was at his side every step of the way.

Painstakingly, the numbers in his visor ticked down.

1100

1050

1000

In the distorted world at the bottom of the ocean, every step seemed to take an eternity.

Whump.

Ethan ducked instinctively as much as the hard suit would allow, as the sonic boom drilled through his bones. Around his helmet, the water shimmered with aftershocks.

Becca was in his ear, her voice shrill and panicked. “Ethan! The depth charges. They’ve started again.”

Ethan strained to see above him but the universe was a shroud of darkness that wanted to suck him under. “Keep moving. Every step away is safer.”

He urged his aching legs and the suit to go faster, his mind desperately out-walking the suit. A second depth charge exploded behind them, blasting them like leaves on an autumn day. Ethan tilted but held his balance, blood salty in his mouth as he crunched the edge of his tongue.

He began to count in tens to maintain his focus as his breathing escalated to short shallow puffs.

Keep counting.

“We’re not going to make it.” Her voice was tinny and small in the receiver.

He reached out and grasped her hand, metal enclosing metal. “I’m thinking,” he said. “What’s your least favorite thing about being down here?”

Her voice soared in pitch. “What? Did you hear what I said?”

Another charge boomed, the backwash knocking them forward onto their hands and knees. Ethan’s ears were ringing, his sinuses throbbing. Blood dripped from his nose and splashed the visor.

“Yes,” he ground out. “But you can tell me about not making it when I’ve punched the CEO of Triton in the face.”

He struggled to take a knee while he caught his breath then forced himself back up onto his feet, reaching for Becca and pulling her back to standing as well.

His monitor flashed, alerting him that he was using his oxygen up too quickly. He made a conscious effort to slow his breathing, pressing his lips together to force himself to breathe in through his nose.

“So what is it?” he asked as he lurched forward, guiding Becca.

“What?”

“Your least favorite thing about this job?”

“Seriously?”

Directly above them, the water burst into scorching blue-white light. The seabed around them was illuminated for at least thirty feet illuminating strange alien-looking silhouettes. At the far reaches, there were dark clouds of expelled ink from a recently departed squid. “Bombs are keeping the critters at bay. Small mercies even when the shit hits the fan.” He pointed. “Look.” The Geo-lab was within sight.

The small building squatted above the seabed, a dark slit of a window near its roof. Composed of paneled sheets, and resting on an encrusted steel framework, it looked to Ethan as if it had been constructed from metal Popsicle sticks cemented together with rust. A very long time ago. Shit.

He turned his attention back to Becca. “Nearly there. And you haven’t answered my question.” Anything to keep her focus on something else. His hands were slick in his metallic gloves, his palms cramping.

The light fizzled, leaving a star-white imprint on his retinas that blinded him in the darkness. He blinked then was flattened, thrown into the seabed by a pulse of explosive energy, the protective shell of his suit grinding against outcrops of rock and stones. Ethan rolled in a dizzying tumble, the metrics on his helmet flashing between life support and the map in a disorientating blur of artificial light. Alarms beeped and squawked in his ears. Becca screamed through his earpiece.

Finally, he ground to a halt, facedown in the silt, only the thud of his own heartbeat accompanying the harshness of his lungs sucking in processed air. He flailed onto his back, fought to sit up. His left arm refused to co-operate, the electrics were blown. Fuck.

“Becca, speak to me.”

She wasn’t answering him. He twisted, and pain shot through his shoulder. His head sagged for a second as he steeled himself. “Becca?”

“Aimee,” she answered.

He opened his eyes. She was towering above him, her face glowing inside her helmet.

“What?”

“Aimee. She’s my least favorite thing about this damn job.”

She stuck out a hand, enabling him to bring himself up to a standing position, swallowing away the wave of nausea that threatened at the back of his throat. His left arm hung useless and locked at his side and the tang of fried electrics filled his nose.

Suit breach imminent! The words flashed across the top of his visor. Why did that not surprise him?

He lurched the remaining twenty feet with Becca, sucking in air, blinking sweat from his eyes. His vision blurred and wavered.

Finally, they were at the Geo-lab. Becca hit a red button on the supporting leg of the structure, and with a ratchety grind of ancient metal, a circular panel began to chug down toward them.

“And the best bit?” She pointed over his shoulder as a depth charge detonated a direct hit on the Ceto habitat. “Now I get to see her die.”

The access platform hit the seabed, and Ethan shuffled on. They inched their backs toward the clamps that would secure their suits for uplift, and Becca punched the pressure pad on the central support to engage the mechanism.

Ethan held his breath and prayed it would still work.