John wasn’t amused. “We’re all know-it-alls, Minerva, or we wouldn’t have been assigned to the mission.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Forget it. Now, please stop talking while I finish polishing this chart.”
She could feel him simmering, see his hovering body in her peripheral, wanting so badly to argue with her or at least slip in the last word. But he remained quiet and eventually returned to the other end of the cavern to retrieve his dragonfly. It had followed fourteen different channels thus far, each eventually tapering down to a few centimeters. Now its battery needed a recharge.
Minnie wanted to remind John that without sunlight, the heater unit was their only significant power source, but she was secretly glad he’d warmed the cave. It meant they didn’t have to spend another night together in the tent.
She’d sleep “outside” tonight.
Fully suited up, John stepped carefully into the little pond from which he and Minerva had emerged the day before. Shifting his optics to IR, he opened a new M.
JOHN: Activating IR emitters in a moment. Be sure to
But he stopped and deleted the M. He needed to maintain minimal communication with Minerva. Her sensitivity to anything and everything he said or observed made it challenging to get anything done. It was on him to adjust, filter, and keep their interactions productive. Minerva most certainly would not.
Exchange only the bare minimum of required information. He started the M again:
JOHN: Activating IR emitters.
MINNIE: OK
He crept down the slope, his boot treads gripping the rock despite the slick glaze, and shifted his weight forward to ease all the way into the water. Strangely, it felt good to be swimming again, or maybe it was the warmth and security of the suit.
What might they find outside the cave and around the sinkhole? There was no reason to believe the Hynka horde hadn’t tracked their scents to the hole, and now stood around the perimeter with 10,000 more friends. But once he reached the end of the tube, twisted upside down to look up, and flipped through various optics, it became clear that nothing awaited them. At least not near the rim of the sinkhole.
JOHN: All clear out here.
John slid out of the tube and watched Minerva follow. Now vertical, they both looked up and around, daylight illuminating the water and the sinkhole’s craggy walls. John kicked his way to the rope, still hanging against the side where they’d left it the night before, and tugged on it to verify it was still secured.
JOHN: I’ll go up rope first.
MINNIE: OK
Bare minimum was working nicely.
John repositioned himself, planting his boots on the wall and coiling the rope around one wrist, then the other, and then pulled himself up. It was surprisingly easy despite Epsy’s 1.5 g. From day one, the station’s personal quarters segment had been set to 1.5 g to prep their muscles in the event of surface evac. Nevertheless, he’d expected to feel exceedingly weak, especially with the added weight of the suit.
And then he reached the surface of the water and felt like a complete idiot. Of course it had been easy to lift himself while half-submerged in water.
Now with torso above the surface, John replanted his boots, took a deep breath, and strove to pump his resolve.
You’ve got this! One arm over the next! Keep momentum! Feet in sync, go go go!
But he couldn’t move. His arms could scarcely hold half his body above the water. Even his fingers were beginning to lose their grip on the rope. It was as if his bottom half was being dragged down by a 100-kilo weight. This climb wasn’t happening.
With the last of his strength, he lowered himself back into the water, Minerva’s curious face shining up at him.
MINNIE: What’s up?
JOHN: No strength. Can’t lift my own weight. Muscle atrophy worse than expected.
MINNIE: I’ll give it a shot. Maybe I can pulley you up if I’m able to make it out.
JOHN: Good luck.
John kicked himself back against the far wall and looked up as Minerva made her attempt. Once again, he found it difficult to inhale a satisfying breath, though his tank should be supplying plenty of oxygen. Thirty seconds of exertion and he was this beat?
Minerva’s legs slowly disappeared above the water line. Yes, it would be embarrassing for her to successfully scale the rope, but he was much more interested in getting out of the cave and sinkhole. Though a moment ago he hadn’t considered their refuge anything other than a safe camping spot, it had abruptly turned into a prison.
A big splash, scattered bubbles, Minerva’s flailing feet.
MINNIE: Dammit! Only made it about ¼ up. Arms like jelly.
She floated down to his level and faced him, her frustration visible through her visor. She glanced back up at the resettling rope end.
MINNIE: Maybe if I dump the suit. That’ll drop 20kg.
John thought about it for a second and realized that bare hands and feet would negate any benefits of dropping the added weight.
JOHN: Gloves and boots?
MINNIE: Oh, right. And probably not a good idea to de-integrate them from the suit, huh?
They stared at each other in silence for a moment, both contemplating the situation, and both clearly at a loss.
JOHN: I’ll set us up a little gym in the cave. We focus on pulls and lifts, squats for our legs. I don’t know about your core, but mine seems pretty worthless. Swimming maneuvers in here might be good for us too.
MINNIE: I can’t envision any regiment that gets us out of here in less than 10 days.
JOHN: Well, yeah, of course it’ll take time.
Minerva’s face skipped right past irritation to pure rage. Bubbles burst from her helmet as she screamed. Her visor fogged, but he didn’t really have to read her lips. “We don’t have that kind of time!” She lurched and swam down to the tunnel entrance, disappearing inside.
John fought the urge to M her, to tell her she needed to calm down, that they had to make the best of their situation, that this wouldn’t be their first disappointment, or to cite the bleakest of his own thoughts: now, more than ever, they needed to get along because they may never see another human being for the rest of their lives.
What would be the point? What exactly did he want from her, anyway? He wanted her mentally stable, that much was certain. How much longer would she remain in balance?
Secretly, he hoped for an inkling of respect, but this was a laughable notion. If lucky, he’d settle for being tolerated. Whatever provided them both the best chance of survival.
And then there was the rest of the crew. Aether and Qin. Zisa and Pablo. Angela and Tom. Ish. John couldn’t help them anymore. Their fates were in their own hands. If he allowed into his mind the horror of their situations, nothing would get done. Perhaps he’d end up as erratic as Minerva.
The only one they could possibly help was Ish. She’d been the sole crewmember to evac alone, and was launched in roughly the same direction as he and Minerva. Wherever Ish ended up, he hoped she wasn’t scared or hurt or dying, awaiting a rescue team that wasn’t coming anytime soon.
Emerging from the cave’s entrance pond, John saw Minerva set her helmet down and crouch to dig into her SSK. He popped his visor and drank of the moist air.