PYRA AND THE TEKTITES

by Rebecca Melanie Sunquist

Part 12: The Hunters

...in the previous two episodes, 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, Flanagan is being lowered into the shaft by a winch operated by maintenance workers...

Once inside the shaft Flanagan switched on the helmet torch, but there was little to see except the glistening rock and ice as he slipped ever downward, drawn by the limited gravity of Europa and held back by the nylon rope that connected him to the winch far above. How far had he already descended? A hundred meters, perhaps more. He bent his head to peer down into the depths of the moon, but there was nothing to see beyond the white boots of his outsuit, so he returned his attention to the shaft once more.

The surface was ribbed and lumpy, although the texture appeared smooth, as if worn by water. In the dark, even with the helmet torch, it was impossible to determine colors, but Flanagan had the impression most of the rock ranged from brown to henna, with an occasional lighter porphyry of ice. As he descended, the colors changed, half light and half dark, as if here at these depths the moon was equal parts rock and ice. It was worth reporting to the maintenance crew...if he ever got out of here again.

Twice Flanagan tried to raise Pyra on the comm, and twice he received nothing, not even static. He did not believe she was dead. He felt that something would have told him--a heaviness of the heart, a cold chill on his back, something--but his thoughts of her were filled with hope. She was alive, still alive, he was certain of that. But he was not certain how long she would remain alive.

He checked his own air gage. Four and a half hours. That meant Pyra had less than three...call it less than two, because Johnson was going to reel him in when he had but an hour left. If, added Flanagan, he was still tethered to the winch.

He had no plans, for he had no way of knowing what to expect. Oceans abounded under the surface of Europa, but not completely. He might strike rock, or ice...or the shaft might even take him to the center of the moon. As long as it took him to Pyra, it mattered not where he wound up.

The shaft seemed to bend, gradually. Flanagan looked around and realized that the shaft was actually expanding, growing wider, so that two or three people might descend here side by side. He tensed in anticipation, and gazed past his boots again. What was down there? Rock, or water? And if he grazed a sharp edge of rock or ice, what might it do to his outsuit?

The shaft widened further, the sides falling away, until Flanagan seemed to be suspended in midair, swaying like a clock pendulum. He shone the helmet torch downward, but the light dissipated into the darkness without reaching the bottom...or whatever awaited him.

Flanagan felt as if he were inside a great domed stadium, dangling from the roof. Presently he became aware of a vibration--the video recorder affixed to his helmet was taking in the surrounding darkness for further analysis. He tried the comm again, and this time he thought he heard static.

"Pyra!" he shouted into the microphone, and once more he gazed into the darkness beyond his boots. The helmet torch seemed to reflect off something just within the limits of its light. Sparkles, thought Flanagan.

Water?

Was someone splashing down there?

"Pyra!" Flanagan yelled again, as he struggled to hold the light from the helmet torch on the movement. How far now to the surface of the ocean? Fifty meters? Less?

A dark shape broke through the sparkles, and Flanagan caught a glimpse of teeth, grayish in the artificial light. Something was feeding down there.

And the winch was lowering him right into the middle of dinner.

* * *

Pyra blinked. Someone was jostling her. Minna? "What do you want now?" she asked sullenly. It seemed to her that the air inside the helmet had already gone stale, though the gage said she had twenty minutes left.

"I told you: it's just Pyra. That's who I am."

But she stirred from the side of the cavern, and allowed herself to float toward the clutch of morrikaru, their seal-like heads all aimed at her. When she reached them, they surrounded her, and almost lifted her out of the water as they swam in unison from the cavern and out into the open ocean.

"Where are we going?" asked Pyra.

The urrglu are feeding, Pyra of the Over. But there are things we must know.

Inside her helmet something crackled. She heard her name through the static. "Flanagan!" she cried.

"Pyra, where are you?"

"I don't know!"

"Then stay where you are," Flanagan ordered. "There's something eating down here, like sharks. They are right below me."

Minna broke into Pyra's thoughts. What is a flanagan?

"That's his name. He's my friend."

Pyra gave up. The morrikaru would never understand. "Yes. He has come for me."

The escort scattered, leaving Pyra to float on the ocean. She was alone. And try as she might, she could not raise the morrikaru in her thoughts. They had abandoned her.

"Flanagan?" she whispered.

But even the static had died.

* * *

The voice that poked its way into Flanagan's brain did not come from the microphones. For several seconds he dangled at the end of the nylon rope, stunned, while the feeding frenzy continued unabated not two meters below his boots. Earlier he had climbed a meter or so up the rope and let himself fall, once, twice, three times, to signal Johnson at the winch to halt his progress. Johnson, or whoever was operating the winch, had almost responded too late, and Flanagan had tried to draw his knees up to his chest to give himself a little more clearance above the water. By the time his descent was halted, he was sweating nervously.

And there he had waited, for over an hour, while the creatures below fed on one another. He had flashed the helmet torch around, searching for debris--for fragments of Pyra's outsuit, although he did not tell himself that. But he found nothing. In the dim light, even the blood of the dying creatures below him was black. He waited, because he had time to wait. Because there was nothing else to be done.

Until the voice jarred him.

At first only his name registered. I am Flanagan, he thought, and was utterly astonished to hear the response.

"Can you hear me?"

He took a chance. "Have you seen Pyra?"

What is seen? But this was followed immediately by Pyra of the Over?

Flanagan's heart raced. Something intelligent down here had found her, and identified her. Therefore, she had not been killed by the monsters at his feet. He glanced at his air gage and saw that she had less than half an hour to live.

"Where is she?"

"Yes, yes. Where is she?"

In the silence that followed, Flanagan counted the beats of his heart. She was still alive! Somehow she had survived the fall, the ocean, the monsters below. He almost cried when he heard her voice.

"Pyra, where are you?"

"I don't know!"

"Then stay where you are," he ordered. "There's something eating down here, like sharks. They are right below me."

In the waters there appeared a great tumult, as countless creatures with seal-like faces broke the surface. The monsters attacked them, and began to devour them, but the the seal creatures numbered too many to be eaten. On the backs of a clutch of six swam Pyra, still in her white outsuit. Flanagan could not see her face through the tinted visor, but he knew she was looking up at him. The six made a platform of themselves, raising Pyra up so that she could grab hold of Flanagan's boots, and climb up further. As she pulled herself free, one of the six was taken and killed. Water splashed and frothed.

"Minna!" called Pyra, her squeaky voice hurting Flanagan's ears.

"Turn your volume down, Pyra," he said calmly, as he wrapped one arm around her, and pulled himself up the rope with the other. "And hang on, I'm going to drop us a little."

"Minna!" she called again.

"Oh, Minna, I'm sorry."

"Friend of yours?" asked Flanagan.

Pyra seemed not to hear, nor to be aware that they were being drawn upwards. Presently Flanagan felt her shaking inside her outsuit. She was crying.

"It's okay, Pyra," he soothed. "You'll be safe soon. If you'll hang on tight, I can replace your air canister."

"Flanagan, they killed themselves to save me. Minna and the others...they were...were...."

Instinctively Flanagan tried to kiss her forehead through the two helmets, and succeeded only in bruising his cheek. "You can tell me all about it when we get up there. How much air do you have?"

"I don't know...um...ten minutes. No, twelve."

"Right, then. Hang onto me, and I'll change the canisters. And try not to wander off, Skinny."

"It's Pyra," she mumbled. "Pyra of the Over."

Don’t Miss PYRA AND THE TEKTITES, PART 13: 'A NEW ADVENTURE' appearing on this site on 15 June 2003.

PYRA AND THE TEKTITES appears EXCLUSIVELY in KISSES FOR KIDS courtesy of prize-winning writer Rebecca Melanie Sunquist.