PYRA AND THE TEKTITES

by Rebecca Melanie Sunquist

Part 11: Over And Out

...in the previous episode, Pyra was within minutes of running out of air, and the morrikaru seem unable to help her, as they are ignorant of the universe outside the ocean under the crust of Europa. Meanwhile, back on the moon's surface...

As Pyra disappeared down the shaft, Flanagan cried out in alarm. With nothing to hold onto, she was plunging into the depths of Europa. He scanned about for anything to throw in after her, a rope, a cable, something she might grasp so that he could use the winch to pull her back out. The echoes of her screams died inside his helmet as she passed out of commo range.

Flanagan started to dash for help, and stumbled. The gravity of Europa was insufficient to allow proper running. Recovering his balance, he hop-shuffled clumsily through the tunnel leading back to the main chamber, and chanced upon a maintenance worker roping off a gallery in preparation for visitors and a lecture. At first the man--his nametag read Johnson--was incredulous, but Flanagan's sense of desperate urgency drove him to action. Together they rushed back to the hole as fast as the weak gravity of the moon would allow, Johnson with a long length of yellow nylon arctic rope, but there was nothing hopeful to do. Johnson tied one end of the rope to the winch hook, and dropped the rest of the rope down the hole.

"How far down does it go?" Flanagan asked.

Still peering down the hole, Johnson waggled a mitten uncertainly. "About half a mile, this one. There's holes like these all over the surface of Europa. Fifty, sixty of them, so far. You know, in the Antarctic on Earth, ice has tiny capillaries in it with water flowing through, no matter how cold it gets. They've even found organisms in them. They reckon these holes are like those capillaries. Sorry, I guess that's not a lot of help, huh? I'm sorry...honest. I don't know what to tell you about your niece."

"What's down there?" asked Flanagan.

"Water. They've sent down fiber-optics to scan around, but all they see is water, and some airless cavities, and ice, and some rock formations. There's some organic residue in the water, and microorganisms...darn, I shouldn't have said that, they haven't made the announcement."

"All I want is my niece back unharmed."

"I commoed for a crew," said Johnson. "But I don't know what they can do. That's why we had this area cordoned off."

"I know...I shouldn't have let her..."

"How much air does she have?"

Flanagan looked at his own gage. "Less than four hours."

"If she's still...sorry, I didn't mean to suggest...sorry."

"A half-mile fall in this gravity into water probably wouldn't harm her. If she hits rock, though...hey, can we drop her some air?"

"We could try," said Johnson. "But the chances of success are one in four."

The odds stumped Flanagan. "How do you figure that?"

Inside the outsuit Johnson shrugged. "One, the cannister arrives intact and she finds it. Two, it arrives intact and she doesn't see it. Three, it does not arrive intact. Four, it hits her."

Despair weighed on Flanagan. "There has got to be something I can do."

Three others arrived, attired like Johnson. Flanagan listened to them discuss the problem, but he heard nothing that approached a solution. Apparently Pyra was the first human being to dive below the surface of the moon, even if it was an accident. He wandered about, thinking. There were all sorts of things they could try. They might find a full kilometer of rope and lower it...but there was no guarantee she would see it. They might drop a torch, and air tanks...but if they were to get her back, someone was going to have to go down there.

"I'll go," said Flanagan suddenly, turning back to the crew. "Find enough rope. You can lower me on the winch."

One of the crew, a woman, said, "There are currents...there's no telling how far away she is."

"That's why the extra rope," said Flanagan. "Can we do it, or not?"

"I'll operate the winch," offered Johnson, as the woman replaced Flanagan's airtank with a full one, and clipped a video recorder to the side of his helmet. "You'll be out of commo range, but you should be able to tug hard enough to signal. Failing that," he added, as more rope from a huge spool was added to the winch, "I'll start pulling you up anyway in four hours."

"I have a full five hours of air," objected Flanagan.

"But I don't know how long it will take to retrieve you. You're coming up in four hours, no more. And don't do anything stupid, like untying yourself once you're down there."

"I won't," said Flanagan, who already was planning to do exactly that. The woman was right: no telling where Pyra might have gotten to if the currents had taken her. He was glad the helmet visor obscured most of his face from direct view, for he knew his expression revealed the devastation he was feeling inside. He should have been more careful with Pyra. He should have kept her with him. There was no need for her to go off on her own, exploring...even though she was only a couple meters away from him at the time she fell.

Johnson handed him a spare cannister of air for Pyra, then drew the rope taut around Flanagan. "Good luck down there," he said.

Flanagan took a breath to steady himself, and flashed a thumbs-up. His weight kept the rope taut as the winch lowered him. As he descended, he looked up at the helmets peering down at him, and wondered whether they would ever see him or Pyra again.

Don’t Miss PYRA AND THE TEKTITES, PART 12: 'THE HUNTERS' appearing on this site on 15 May 2003.

PYRA AND THE TEKTITES appears EXCLUSIVELY on the AOIFE’S KISS/KISSES FOR KIDS sites courtesy of prize-winning writer Rebecca Melanie Sunquist.