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From the sonar screen in the auxiliary control station, they had all watched the four other tiers rise to the surface. Their group had followed upward at a wary distance, then settled into a neutral-buoyancy hover about a quarter mile down. Once in place, the thrusters were turned off, making them look dead in the water.
No one dared to even speak.
Then a series of huge explosions erupted overhead. The sound carried to them. Shortly thereafter, the sonar showed debris raining down. Fearing that they might be hit, Byrd had glided them out of the way, before returning them to a dead hover. Worry plagued them as they hung in the water—and not for their own safety. It was impossible to tell if the station’s personnel had been offloaded toTitan Station Upbefore the tiers had been destroyed.
That had been an hour ago.
It was now a tense waiting game.
The hope was that the assailants would depart these waters, allowing them to safely rise to the surface. Byrd’s plan was to wait for as long as possible, to only ascend once their oxygen tanks were depleted. They had no other choice. The onboard batteries could at best get them a half mile away before dying, leaving them stranded and in full view of the station.
Knowing this and feeling like a caged lion, Kowalski made another pass around the floor. The petite researcher—Jasleen Patel—sat alongside the curve of glass. Her laptop was open on her knees, but she ignored the screen, leaning her head against the wall. Her complexion was pale, her brow damp. She shivered from a spiking fever. The geologist, Haru, knelt beside her, holding her hand—no,examiningher hand.
Kowalski stopped next to them. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think her fever and chills are from a flu bug.” Haru waved him down. “Look.”
Kowalski dropped to a knee as the geologist held out her arm. Her palm was gray and three of her fingers were even darker.
Jazz lifted her head to stare down, too. Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “It... it’s a toxic reaction. Some type of envenomation. From a sting I suffered. Feels like my hand is on fire. I can barely move my fingers.”
Kowalski shrugged out of his wool duster. “Put this on.”
He helped her draw his coat over her shoulders and pulled it around her. She set down her laptop and burrowed deeper into its warmth. “Thanks.”
“What stung you?” Haru asked.
She sighed with exasperation. “A coral polyp. Stupid of me. I wager Dr. Kim Jong Suk is feeling as crappy as I am. If he’s still alive.”
Haru looked at Kowalski. “She needs medical attention.”
“There’s only one place she can get it.” Kowalski stared up. “And it’s a quarter mile away.”
With a grunt, Kowalski stood and crossed over to the doorway that led down to the auxiliary controls. Jarrah stood at the threshold, guarding over Byrd inside.
“Gotta talk to your boss,” Kowalski said.
Jarrah shifted aside.
Byrd heard him and turned from where he was studying various information on the board: oxygen levels, exterior pressure, depth gauge, battery charges. Past his shoulders, a curve of windows showed only black seas.
“What is it?” Byrd asked.
“That woman is sick and getting worse. She needs help. And she’s not going to find it down here.”
“And what do you propose we do?”
Kowalski pointed a finger up. “We take our chances now rather than later.”
“We don’t know what’s happening topside. We could end up getting her killed—and us—much quicker.”
“I don’t think waiting a couple more hours is gonna make any—”
A series of booming detonations reached them, strong enough to shake the hovering tier. Kowalski ducked and looked across the curve of windows, expecting them to crack.
Byrd turned to the sonar screen.
Kowalski crowded in behind him. “What the hell was that?”
