He finally glanced over, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Nightmare material. Trust me.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You’re just trying to mess with me now.”
He exhaled through his nose. “No. I’m not in the mood.”
A tense beat passed. “And if the darts don’t work?” I pressed.
He pointed to the red button next to me. “Missiles. Below the dart tubes. Last resort. We try to avoid a blood bath at all costs. If it gets to that point… well, let’s hope it doesn’t.”
I tried to scoff, but my voice was dry. “No pressure, then. Mind if I test the dart controls? Just once?”
He weighed that, then nodded. “Go ahead. No pods in front.”
I counted down—“Three, two, one”—and pressed the green button. The dart shot out so fast I almost missed it, slicing through the water and vanishing into the murk.
I let out a slow breath. “Guess I’ll call that a hit.”
Hayden checked the radar, calm and contained, as if it was just another morning. “Stay sharp. The ocean gets stranger the deeper you go.”
I nodded, eyes flicking between the monitors and the water pressing in on all sides, sensing he’d given me all the guidance I was going to get.
A brittle silence settled as the rest of our team clamberedinto their pods, the air heavy with purpose and nerves. Then Greg’s voice cut through on comms: “You’re ready to go.”
Hayden flicked a switch, and I felt a faint vibration as the suction cups released beneath us. The pod dropped, water pressing around the glass; Hayden eased the descent, then sent us gliding forward alongside the submarine.
I peered through the binoculars, catching the silhouette of a massive rock formation directly below. The main submarine angled down for it, heading toward a dark gap—a cave, wide as a hangar door. As the large vessel hovered over the opening, Greg’s voice crackled in: “Pod One, check the cave.”
One of the other pods darted ahead, vanishing into the black maw. After a tense minute, a woman’s voice reported, “Clear.”
Divers emerged from a hatch in the large sub’s belly, silver air bubbles trailing behind their packs. Unmanned machinery followed, ferrying what looked like metal slats—the grate, I realized. I didn’t envy the divers, their bodies tiny against the cave mouth.
“All pods, fan out and begin watch,” Greg ordered.
Hayden angled us away from the cave, the pod’s headlights cutting a pale path through the murk. “Eyes front,” he said, low, settling into his side of the silence. My breath sounded too loud around me as I fixed my gaze ahead, scanning for anything amiss.
Ten minutes in, Hayden eased the throttle, letting us hover in place. “I’ll cover rear view while you watch forward,” he said, never taking his eyes from his screen.
“Got it,” I murmured.
The divers below worked in slow, deliberate bursts, the frame of the grate creeping into shape. Every so often, I caught movement—just fish, harmless shadows flitting through the blue gloom. I forced myself to unclench, rolling my shouldersand slipping off my seatbelt, as if more comfort would help me focus.
Hayden glanced over, tone neutral. “Thirsty?” Like he was asking more for protocol than comfort.
I nodded, and he reached behind his seat, then handed me a water bottle. I drank fast, too fast, spilling a little down my front. He passed me a tissue with a dry, “Pace yourself.”
I offered a brief thanks, dabbing at my uniform, before lifting the binoculars again. But after a few more minutes of stillness, the question that was never far from my mind finally slipped out. “You moved up to bronze pretty quick. Was it just picking odd jobs, or was there a method to it?”
He hesitated, the pause long enough for the hum of the controls to become all I heard.
“I didn’t keep a list,” he said finally, not quite meeting my eyes. “Construction wasn’t for me. I just… drifted into what came up. And after a while, it got easier to choose.”
I tried not to sound desperate. “I’m asking because I need to get to bronze as fast as possible. My family’s scattered—parents in the islet’s hospital, my sister out of reach. If you have any advice, I could use it.”
He was quiet again, jaw tight as he watched the monitor. At last, he looked over, eyes guarded. “The truth is, I can’t walk you through it. Not the way you want.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
He shook his head, a flicker of something I struggled to decipher passing through his expression. “Let’s just say the path isn’t always meant to be repeated.”
