by Mosaic
He glanced up at her as he calibrated his breathing gill. "That's why I come here. I'm looking for an opening into the Olympus Mons cave system." She thought maybe she hadn't heard him correctly. "You? You're looking for the Olympus system?"
His gray eyes sought hers. "Why? Do you know about it?" She nodded. "Some day I'm going to explore the caves. I'd like to map the system."
"How did you know about the caves?"
"Someone from Starfleet once told me. How did you?"
"I read about them. Some obscure story I found in a historical database at the library."
It figured. Hobbes always had his nose in a padd-and never one anyone else would be caught dead reading.
"So," he continued, "my dad and I have been diving the quarries since last year, looking for an entrance. We've covered about seven of them. We were here a few days ago but my gill started malfunctioning and we had to leave."
"You dad lets you dive the quarries?"
"Sure."
No wonder Hobbes was so strange-he came from a strange family. No one let their children go to the quarries. What could his father have been thinking?
"Well, I hope you have enough sense not to dive alone."
"Of course not. Usually I'm with dad. Today I have you."
Something about the placid ease of his presumption rankled Kathryn. She almost said she didn't want to dive, just to punish him for jumping to the conclusion that she'd dive with him, but in time she remembered that it was exactly what she wanted to do, and there was no point in spoiling her day. For once, she managed to squelch herself before she said something she regretted. Quickly, she pulled on her thermal suit, an intricate web of nichrome filaments that would keep her body comfortably warm even in near-freezing water. They both had equipment they'd used in school, where diving had been taught along with rock climbing, tennis, and swimming. Lightweight tripolymer body suits, vented fins, and the breathing gills, which constantly extracted breathable oxygen from the surrounding water, much like the gills of a fish. Long ago, humans had used bulky oxygen tanks, and then rebreathers, which processed exhaled air, removing the carbon dioxide by mixing it with alkaline hydroxide, and then injecting the resultant oxygen with helium. These tanks would allow divers to stay underwater for up to twenty-four hours at a time.
Now, of course, they could be under for as long as they wanted, just like fish.
They checked each other's buddy lights, readjusted their gills, and then lowered themselves off the platform and into the water. The first thing she noticed was the cold. The suits they wore were light as cotton, but chemically treated to keep them warm at temperatures as low as two degrees C. Even so, Kathryn felt cool immediately. The second thing to strike her was the pristine clarity of the water. She felt she could see for a hundred meters-if there had been anything to see. No flora graced this chilly lake, no fauna inhabited its depths. There was nothing except rock and water.
The silence soothed her, as it always did when she was underwater. A sense of tranquillity enveloped her, and she swam effortlessly through the clear water, keeping her eye on the two green buddy lights on Hobbes' back, signaling that he was doing fine. He was stroking steadily downward, moving toward the periphery of the quarry, searching for an opening in the wall-a crack, a dark spot-something that might indicate the presence of a cave system beyond. They swam like that for some forty minutes, methodically searching the quarry walls, but finding nothing except impenetrable stone. They had circumnavigated the quarry twice, the second time at a significantly lower depth. Then Hobbes signaled her to surface, and gradually they floated their way to the top.
Kathryn was grateful. She was unpleasantly cold, and thirsty; she wanted to get out for a while, warm up, and have a piece of fruit. But Hobbes had other ideas.
"I think I saw something."
"Where?" Kathryn had been looking as carefully as he had, she was sure, and had detected nothing that resembled an opening in the stone walls. "It's quite a bit lower than we were. I'd like to go back one more time, leave you at about twenty-five meters while I go check it out."
"That's pretty deep."
"But not past our safety limits. Remember, with Mars's lower gravity, water pressure isn't as intense as on Earth." He eyed her as they trod chilly water. She really wanted to get out and dry off, but she wasn't about to admit that to Hobbes Johnson, of all people. So she nodded and refit her breathing gill. He did the same, and they sank underwater once more. She followed him down to twenty-five meters, then saw his hand signal for her to hold there. She watched as he stroked deeper into dark waters; she could barely see the flutter of his fins as he moved steadily down into the gloomy depths where sunlight could not penetrate.
Then he disappeared completely.
Kathryn felt a coldness in her stomach which was icier than the quarry water. How would she know if anything happened to him? How deep did he plan to go? How long would it take?
She forced her mind to quiet, breathing steadily, focusing on the sight of her hands floating in front of her, pale and ghostly. Gradually the panic faded, and she peered once more down into the depths of the dark water. She hadn't brought an aquadyne torch, never figuring to be this deep, never thinking she'd have a reason to go where there was no light. She saw nothing.
Ten minutes passed, and she knew it was time to act. Gradually, she moved herself deeper, breathing regularly, pulling herself down through the water.
As far as she could see below her, there was only darkness. She scanned the wall of the quarry, hoping to discover whatever aberration it was that had drawn Hobbes to these deep waters.
And then she saw it-another five meters below her. A dark gash in the side of the wall, barely visible in the gloom, no more than a faint shadow. Was that what had caught Hobbes' eye? As she got closer, she could see that the shadow was in fact an opening-a black trench in the rock face some ten meters wide and five meters tall. She pulled steadily toward it.
And then she realized it was pulling her.
A current was flowing into the opening. She realized that meant it was the ingress to an underground river, perhaps even a network of subterranean caves extending deep into the planet's crust.
She let the current pull her toward the mouth that was now yawning just below her.
And realized, too late, that as soon as she was on a level with the opening, the current became immeasurably stronger, and then she was sucked into the dark hole, out of control.
Desperately, she struggled against the pull, quickly realized it was too strong for her, and lunged for the wall of the cave mouth. Incredibly, her hands found purchase. An upwardthrusting shard of rock allowed her to grip it firmly, stopping her inexorable drag back into-into what?
Fear paralyzed her for a moment. She thought of her father, how she had been so afraid it was his footsteps they'd heard climbing toward the quarry, wishing now that it had been him and that she were safely back in the colony with him-chastised, to be sure, even restricted. But alive. Where was Hobbes? Had he been sucked into this channel as well? Clenching the rock with all her might, she gradually turned her head and looked behind her.
She saw the two green buddy lights another five meters in, glowing dully through the pitch black water, not moving, but flickering in and out of her view as the currents of the water struck them. Hobbes must have found something to grab on to, also. For the first time, she realized she could see absolutely nothing; no light penetrated here, and only the flittering green lights interrupted the terrifying darkness. She'd have to inch her way back to him. She carefully let go with one hand, the other scrabbling along the wall, feeling for a handhold. She found one. Releasing her other hand, she clutched at the new hold, body pressed as close to the wall of the channel as she could get it. The sucking current was less pronounced there.
Then she repeated the process, minute after agonizing minute, creeping backward centimeters at a time through the darkness and the relentless tug of the icy water. Why, she wondered, wa
sn't Hobbes doing the same? Pulling himself forward, little by little?
By the time she reached the two lights, she realized why. He wasn't on the cave wall, but out toward the center of the channel. He must have found an obstruction to hold to, but he couldn't reach the wall. He was stranded. How was she going to reach him? Did he even know she was there? He must-if she could see his buddy lights, he could see hers. Clamping her hands around a small rock outcropping, she gradually extended her legs into the center of the channel, guiding them toward the buddy lights. And felt them touch a body. Then rubbed them on that body, trying to communicate, trying to get him to realize that he had to grab her legs. It didn't take long. She felt a hand around her ankle, then another, and suddenly the pressure on her was twice as strong, as Hobbes' body weight was pulling against her. Would this work? Could she possibly pull both of them out of this underwater tomb?
She had to get him toward the wall, where he could grab hold and help pull. She let the force of the current help her sweep her legs toward the wall, felt his body pulling on her legs, pulling so hard she wasn't sure she could hang on, felt one hand begin to slip-
And then the pressure on her legs was released. She turned around and saw the buddy lights behind her, against the wall. He had managed to find a hold.
And then the real struggle began. Pulling even herself against the flow of water was almost impossible. Her fingers were cold, nearly numb; they slipped against the wet rock. Desperately she scrabbled the wall to find a grip.
Slowly, impossibly, she pulled herself toward the mouth of the channel, imagining that it was slightly lighter there, that the water was gray, not black, and that the opening was only a few meters away and soon she'd be out of this hellhole, looking toward sunlight filtering down into the water, moving toward the surface and warmth.
But before she ever reached the gray, her hands found a corner. An edge. She was at the mouth. If she could turn the corner, she was out. She reached her right hand around the edge of the cave, pawing for a grip. She found nothing but sheer rockface.
She felt panic rise, felt her heart begin to pound, forced the feelings down. There had to be a way. She felt Hobbes behind her, bumping her feet, and knew they were very close to making it.
Holding her grip with her right hand, she twisted her body in the water so that she was pressed face-first against the wall. This way, she could extend her left arm higher than she'd been able to reach with her right, though it was in a more awkward position.
But with her left hand, she felt a blessed indentation, not much, but enough to dig her fingers into. Would it give her enough leverage to swing her body around and outside the cave? She paused for a few breaths before trying it. Gripping the indentation as hard as she could, she knifed forward in the water and pushed her body so it twisted out of the opening, staying flat against the wall on the outside. The current was weak there, and she could actually swim along the wall, away from the opening. She turned to see if Hobbes would follow. What seemed like minutes passed. She was numb from cold, and still faced a slow rise to the surface. Come on, Hobbes, she thought intensely, I did it, you can do it. She peered toward the dark gash from which she had safely emanated, willing him to appear.
And he did, rolling around the corner in much the same fashion she had, flattening himself against the wall until he had risen high enough to where the current was no longer a danger to them. They eyed each other in the murky gloom, making gestures of joy and victory, rising only as quickly as they could safely ascend.
In ten minutes, they were on the surface, then onto the platform, toweling vigorously to restore warmth to their bodies, eating and drinking and laughing with a giddiness that belied the trauma they were processing. When they had rested, warm and full, they climbed the quarry face again, giggling at how easy it seemed compared to what they'd been through. On the top, they looked back down at the water that had so recently tried to destroy them both.
Hobbes eyes sought her face. "You saved my life, Kath," he said simply. "I'll never forget that."
She shrugged, embarrassed. "You'd do the same for me."
"Yes, I would," he said, and there was something in his voice that made her look sharply at him, but she saw nothing in his face. "Well, we better get back," she said, feeling suddenly awkward. "I'd say that's a very good idea," said a voice from behind them, cold and potent.
They whirled, and Kathryn saw her father standing there. "What were you two thinking? You know the quarries are off-limits."
"It's my fault, sir," Hobbes said instantly. "I've been here with my father, and I asked Kathryn to come swimming with me."
Her father's eyes shifted to her. "Kathryn?" he said simply, and while every part of her wanted to let Hobbes' gallant statement stand, she knew she couldn't lie to her father. "Hobbes is being a gentleman, Dad. I was here with Emma and Mary. I talked them into it. Hobbes came later." She glanced at Hobbes. "Thanks anyway." Vice-Admiral Janeway tapped his commbadge and then took each of them by an arm. "Janeway to Ops Center. Three to beam in."
And in an instant they were standing inside Ops, where curious officers looked at them, smiling at the incongruity of two young people in swim gear standing in the pristine room.
Kathryn's father ushered them into an adjacent corridor. "Is there anything else you have to say about this little escapade?"
"It just seemed like fun. We swam and we dived some." Kathryn held her father's gaze firmly. She wouldn't lie to him, but choosing to omit some of the details seemed perfectly justifiable. There was no way she was going to tell him about their near-miss in the cave opening. "But you knew you weren't supposed to be there?"
"Yes, Dad."
"You're grounded for the next week, Kathryn. And no holodeck privileges, either. Hobbes, I expect you to tell your parents about this. What they decide to do is up to them."
"Yes, sir."
"Dad... was Kathryn was trying to keep the despair out of her voice. "We're only going to be here another week. I made plans, and there's a party next Saturday-was
"You should have thought of that before you headed for the quarries. Now go back to quarters and be prepared to spend the week there."
She felt tears begin to form, and quickly blinked them back. There was no way she was going to cry in front of him, no way she'd let him know this unfair punishment meant anything to her. She lifted her chin and looked him right in the eye.
"Yes, sir, was she snapped, and turned on her heel and stalked out. As she left, she heard Hobbes talking softly with her father, apologizing, trying to take more responsibility for the incident, hoping to spare Kathryn. She hated him for it.
Indignation mounted in her. How could her father treat her like this? He was never around anymore, always off conferring with Starfleet officials-what right did he have descending on her just to mete out punishment? The unju/s of it enveloped her like a noxious fog. But those thoughts didn't suppress the one that had tickled her mind ever since they had climbed up the rockface from the quarry: some day, she would go back there. She would be prepared. She would dive into the quarry, enter the cave opening, and explore the Olympus Mons system. No matter what her father had to say about it.
CHAPTER 9
"REPORT." CAPTAIN JANEWAY STRODE ONTO THE BRIDGE WITH renewed determination. She had managed to sleep for another hour, and now felt focused and clearheaded.
"Repairs still under way, Captain. Warp engines are still down, but impulse could be on-line shortly. The weapons array is partially restored; we have one phaser bank operative."
"Any sign of the Kazon?"
"As far as we can tell, they're still in orbit of the planet. This nebula fogs up the sensor readings a bit, so we can't track them as accurately as I'd like."
Janeway sat at her chair. "Bridge to Engineering."
"Torres here, Captain," a voice answered. Janeway had no doubt that B'Elanna Torres, the half-Klingon chief of Engineering, had been hard at it since the attack.
"What's you
r closest estimate on impulse capability?"
"Within the hour."
"And warp drive?"
There was a silence. Then, somewhat carefully, "I'm not sure. We're having some problems."
Janeway thought it through. They couldn't show their face to the Kazon without warp capability and with only one phaser bank. They would be completely vulnerable. Better to take a little more time and get every system working.
"Keep me posted, Lieutenant," she said, and signed off. She had just turned to Chakotay when Tom Paris interrupted, urgency in his voice. "Captain, we've got activity in the nebula. It's a ship."
"Kazon?"
"I think so. In this soup it's hard to tell for sure."
Janeway's mind raced. Without weapons, without warp, with sensors inaccurate, it was folly to try to engage the enemy. They were going to have to be the fox in this hunt.