But it turned out David had a different question.
“Are you coming in with us, Captain Rio, or are you staying topside?”
Gabe didn’t hesitate. “I’m with you, Doctor. I owe Tori that.”
Voss stared. She had seen the way Gabe had reacted to the news of Tori Austin’s situation, so it had not surprised her when he had agreed to lead them to the cave. But she had not expected him to descend with them, to risk himself.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
Gabe, David, and Stone all looked at her, so that Voss felt like she had to defend herself; her, the FBI agent, defending herself when Gabe Rio had smuggled drugs and guns.
“If things get ugly down there, I want to know I’m surrounded by people I can rely on,” she said, staring at Gabe. He surprised her again by not turning away, instead keeping his gaze fixed firmly on hers.
“What do you think, Agent Voss, that I’m going to try to murder you all and escape?” he asked. “You’ve obviously got a file you put together on me. Do you see murder anywhere in there? And even if you really believed I was capable of something like that, where would I run? And what would I gain? Dr. Boudreau here gave me my free pass before we left the Kodiak. I’m not going to prison, lady. I’m out here for Tori. I’m no hero, but I’m not stupid, either. I know I’ve done things in my life I need to make up for.”
David could have stepped in, then, and overruled her the way he had Turcotte. Even Lieutenant Stone could have offered an opinion. But both men waited to see what she would say, leaving it to her.
In reply, she unclipped the Maglite from her belt, shifted it to her left hand, and drew her gun. She glanced at David. “Fine, but he doesn’t get a gun.”
“Agreed,” David replied.
Gabe’s face went slack, but she did not think it was the lack of a weapon that had troubled him. With her objections removed, he had to face the prospect of descending into that cave without any protection but what Voss and the sailors could provide, and apparently that did not instill him with confidence.
Voss nodded her consent — though David did not need it — and started into the mouth of the cave, clicking her Maglite on. The flash beam wavered, but her gun hand did not.
“Hang on, Agent Voss,” Stone said. He turned to one of the sailors. “Mr. Crowley, lead the way.”
Wordlessly, the freckled Crowley hurried up to the cave, pulling out his own Maglite. He waited for Voss to step aside, and when she did so, he rushed through as though eager to explore the dark innards of the island. But she knew eagerness did not drive him. Duty did.
She didn’t wait for the rest of them, following Crowley in, and this time Stone didn’t try to call her back. She heard his voice, and those of David and the other sailors, as they entered behind her. They all carried small packs with water, some food rations, radios, and backup lights. Stone, Crowley, and the other two sailors had assault weapons in addition to their sidearms, while Voss and David carried only pistols. Manetti, a medic, had a med-kit so that he could provide emergency treatment, if needed, to the survivors of the grotto’s collapse.
The cave went back thirty feet or more, diminishing in size until it jogged left and descended sharply. Flashlight beams played across the stone walls, black rock alternately reflecting the light and seeming to swallow it. Voss could hear trickling water and a kind of shushing noise of it moving far below, the ebb and flow of a current somewhere down there.
“Watch your step, Agent Voss,” Crowley whispered.
She almost asked him why he wanted to keep his voice down, then felt stupid. Of course they should whisper. The sirens were probably in the lower tunnels, in the water, but they did not know enough about the creatures to truly predict their behavior. A chill went up her spine and she shone her flashlight beam at the ceiling above her, imagining one of the maggoty-white things stuck like a leech to the black rock, reaching for her, jaws wide.
But they were alone in here, at least for now.
With Crowley in the lead, they navigated through a narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel into an even narrower space that seemed more like a crevice or fissure. The slash in the volcanic rock went up vertically at least twenty feet until it became little more than a crack. Water dribbled down the walls, keeping them slick.
Voss aimed her Maglite down and saw that the crack went deeper as well.
“Have a look at this,” she said, crouching, and the others followed suit.
“There’s water down there,” David said, shining his own light beside hers.
Gabe peered over his shoulder and Crowley had backtracked to join them. The other sailors did not bother to look, shining their lights around, on guard for attack. The sight of them so vigilant gave Voss another chill, icy fingers dancing along her spine.
“Yeah,” Voss said. “See anything else?”
They had been walking along a ridge inside the fissure, and perhaps twenty-five feet below, their lights shone on shimmering water. Though the slash in the rock was narrow, it provided access to the water below, and to the rising tide.
“No,” David said, turning to her in alarm. “Did you?”
Voss stood up. “Not yet.”
They went faster after that, and kept quiet.
83
Sarah Ernst had never been so terrified in her life, but she tried desperately not to show it. Her face felt warm, but that might have been the sun. Did she look flushed to those around her? Could they tell she had started breathing in short, quick breaths? Her lips felt dry and she ran her tongue out to moisten them, thinking, Holy shit, this is real.
When Alena Boudreau had recruited her for this job, it had seemed fascinating. There would be secrets laid bare for her that other biologists would sell their souls to learn. Yes, some of those secrets might end up being weaponized, but even as a professor, Sarah Ernst had taught her students about conditional ethics. Some things were wrong under any circumstances, but other decisions had to be weighted against the planet-wide political and cultural conditions in which they had to be made, and Dr. Ernst had faith in the U.S. government. Yes, corruption infected it, but the core, she believed, was still worthy of her trust and her service.
And so she served.
The work had been everything she had imagined. The samples Alena had sent back from Donika Cave alone would end up being the most remarkable things that she, as a biologist, had ever examined. Or they would have been, if not for today.
“Dr. Ernst?” Captain Siebalt said.
Again she wetted her lips. “Sorry. Just kind of bracing myself.”
The captain smiled. “I don’t blame you. I think we all are.”
That made her feel a bit better and she allowed herself to take a look around. The chopper had set the rusty metal container down on the deck of the USS Hillstrom. She tried to count how many members of the Navy vessel’s crew were gathered around the front of the container with weapons drawn and aimed at the doors, but lost track somewhere in the teens. A couple of dozen, at least.
Sarah had always hated guns. They did not make her feel any safer. She looked at the metal doors of the container and wondered about ricochets. Her palms felt clammy. The sailors had begun to take glances at her, obviously waiting for the word.
“Hopefully it’s still unconscious,” she said, and then — thinking herself too quiet — spoke louder. “If you have to shoot, try to wound it, and try to keep it in the dark. We don’t want it exposed to sunlight.”