Becca smacked the button again, but the platform remained silent and unmoving on the seabed.

Shit.

“What’s wrong?” Ethan’s voice was low and hazy as if the explosion had damaged his mic.

“Hang on.” She hammered the pad with her fist. Expletives burned her lips as her heart accelerated beyond the speed of light.

She was not going to die out here like this. She was not.

“Open, God, damn you,” she screamed and punched the pad with all her strength.

A click traveled through her metal gloves. A subtle crunch of corrosion giving way, allowing the pad to connect.

Bolts plunged into the female sockets in the neck of her suit, securing her for uplift and at last, the platform shuddered and began to rise. A tsunami of relief washed through her, leaving her knees trembling and a mad bubble of laughter on her lips.

She willed the aging motor to go faster. “Hurry up.”

It was the longest thirty seconds of her life, but at last, the ocean dipped out of view as they entered the suit chamber. Water rushed and boiled around her visor. If it was at all possible, it was even darker here than outside. Gray froth receded from her faceplate.

“Ethan. We’ve made it.”

Ethan wasn’t standing. He was crouched at her feet, still under the water.

“Ethan. You need to stand up for the bolts to connect. Otherwise, the suit won’t release.”

Water washed down around her chest. Still, he wasn’t replying.

“Ethan, do you hear me? Stand up.” She knocked the top of his helmet but when that didn’t get any response, she thumped with her fist. “Ethan.”

A groan washed through her headset, and he lurched to his feet. He turned to her, his face ashen under the wash of light from the rising platform.

She gripped his helmet and bumped their heads together. “Damn you. Put the fear of God into me.”

“Me too.” His voice echoed in her ears. “Let’s get out of these damn suits.”

The platform ground to a halt and Ethan lumbered backward so the bolts could slide and anchor him. Becca waited while her suit diagnostics assessed the air quality, crossing her hands in front of her in lieu of fingers.

Air quality satisfactory flashed in green. Thank fuck.

Long seconds ticked past before her helmet disengaged and chest plates released, allowing Becca to reach up and pull herself out of the suit into the frigid air of the Geo-lab. Her breath puffed in clouds of white vapor under the pale-yellow light from her hard suit. Even with the thick neoprene diving suit, she had goosebumps from the cold.

Air hissed and Ethan pulled himself free and jumped down onto the platform beside her.

He rubbed one arm. “Jeez, it’s freezing.” He scanned the room. “This place is old.”

“We need to find something warmer.” Becca eyed the awkward way he held himself. “You okay?”

“Clonked my shoulder when we fell. Just a sprain.”

He grabbed a flashlight from a shelf, and after a rattle, it blinked into dismal life. He shone it at the only door. “This way.”

Becca followed Ethan into the main research quarters. Although, ‘main’ was a generous description. The room was not large, and every spare inch of wall was jammed with geriatric-looking electrical equipment. Oversized computer monitors hunkered down on the desk as if awaiting a watery apocalypse.

Ethan whistled, his fingertips leaving a thin line on the dusty work surfaces. A wide, shuttered window swept across more than half the space. Becca leaned over the console and released the shutters, winding them back with a small crank.

“It was proper analog in those days,” she said, standing back and tucking her hands under her armpits in a futile attempt to prevent heat loss.

The Ceto habitat was clearly outlined in the window, the outside lights flickering in an irregular staccato, as depth charges continued to rain down, blasting the ocean depths with silvery detonations.

“The habitat’s imploding.” Her voice was flat as she watched with gritty eyes her home for the past six months crumple and flatten. I hope you’re dead, Aimee. More depth charges, a volley of them, hammered through the water in succession, their power transmitted through the floor into her shoeless feet.

Becca took a hesitant step backward. “Do you think we’re far enough away?”

“Yeah.” His voice was confident. Ethan reached out and squeezed her hand as the front section of the habitat crumpled and air escaped in torrents, corkscrewing in bright strands on its long journey home.

Becca pointed. “Ethan, look.”

More bubbles and tremors as yellow and blue light strobed like lightning through the black water.

Becca shivered. “I hope that’s Aimee.”

He tugged her shoulder, pulling her away from the violent destruction. “Enough of the sideshow. We have no idea how much air we have here.”

He embraced her into the hard warmth of his body and kissed the corners of her mouth.

Becca kissed him back, his solidity easing the knotted muscles in the base of her neck. “The LR5 is docked off the living quarters. We should start prepping it straight away.”

He bumped his forehead against hers. “Okay. Show me, Dr. Johnson.”

She nodded, inhaling his warm scent, trying to block out the bitter tang of neglect that permeated the Geo-lab. “Prep will be quicker if we’re not popsicles. There must be something we can use to warm us up.”

She left his side and rifled through the storage lockers. They were mostly filled with useless junk. Bits of old computers, broken keyboards and endless wires that must’ve belonged to about sixty different machines. Her nails snagged on rough plastic, and she was sucking a torn finger and searching with one hand before she found the first aid kit supplies and what she was looking for: crinkly survival blankets.

Ethan was already at the exit to the rest of the Geo-lab when she tied one around her shoulders and handed another to him.

He took the blanket but his attention was directed at the door. He hit it with the heel of his hand. “Door’s jammed. We need the power back on to open it.”

Becca jogged back to the lab’s control panels. “Basic tool kits are built into the systems for emergencies.” She squatted and unhooked one with a loud snap. It hit the floor and the kit spilled open. “Ta-da.” Even though she could no longer feel her toes, Becca grinned.

Ethan hunkered down beside her and squeezed her arm. “Thank you, Dr. Johnson.”

He took what he needed and after some impressive cursing and grunting, he succeeded in fitting himself behind the main power bank at the rear of the room. Five minutes later, the lights flickered on and, amazingly, a soft hum powered up. Two of the large screens under the main viewport began a digital boot-up sequence, counting down from ten.

“System initialization complete,” announced a stilted digital voice. Becca rolled her eyes heavenward. Thank God. She hurried to the door, the blanket rustling around her shoulders. “Ethan, I’m going to check on the mini sub.”

His voice was muffled. “Be right with you.”

The door opened easily now that power was restored. On the other side, she found a small inner hallway and another two doors. When she stuck her head through the nearest one, she discovered the living quarters for crew members stationed here twenty years ago. Two bunks edged the room, while in the center was a desk and yet another computer. Her flashlight highlighted swirls of dust, disturbed by her movements. She left the room and crossed to the other door that had to lead to the dock for the LR5.

It was ajar, the space beyond shrouded in darkness. The air was acrid, reminiscent of seaweed and rotting fish.

Becca gripped the handle, her chilled fingers closing on the freezing metal.

A loud bang echoed on the other side.

Had Ethan gone ahead?

She pushed the door open and fumbled for the light switch, berating herself. She spooked far too easily.

Something smashed to the ground.

Glass.

Becca came to a standstill, scouring the absolute darkness in front of her.

It wasn’t Ethan. Someone else was in the room with her.