Chapter Three

1.

“ANYTHING TO REPORT, COMMANDER?”

“Negative, Captain.” Bedford had been on first watch. Although he was tired, the wonder of what he was seeing kept him awake and alert. So did the pain of missing Annabelle. He’d missed her all along, of course he had, but seeing…this. The wonder of Jupiter brought her absence home to him. This would have meant so much more had Annabelle been here to share the experience. Duty kept them apart—his to the service of his country and hers to Kai, her daughter so newly found. Understanding did nothing to lessen his heartache. Annabelle’s amazement and wonder would have made this all the more incredible.

How would Kai have reacted to this? Some would consider the half Apache girl a savage but she had Annabelle’s heart, taste for adventure, inquisitiveness, and bravery of both the mother and tribe. Still, for all he knew she might view Jupiter as some giant demon, but just maybe she’d see it for the marvel it was. The Apache were not the savages modern men believed; Bedford knew that better than most.

He couldn’t help wondering of all the miraculous things he currently saw, what else Jupiter was hiding; what would they discover?

When questioned—Bedford tried not to think of Theobald’s technique as interrogation—both Quintana and Roberts had confirmed seeing something moving in the clouds, something, when pressed, they admitted could have been drifting rock and a product of their imaginations. Quintana had not taken his word being doubted as meekly as Roberts, though, and Bedford had stepped in to calm escalating hostilities, remarking they would accept the claims as plausible. Since then, the crew had watched for not only a suitable place to land but life-forms. Several hours on and there was still no sign of either. Something the captain remarked on now.

Speaking low, Theobald said, “If I did not know of the existence of creatures like the dinosaurs on Venus I would like to dismiss such statements.”

Bedford was stuck for something to say in reply. Theobald and he were not on good terms and the captain seldom expressed his doubts.

“I assure you, sir, some of the things I have seen would put aside your misgivings.” Bedford became aware of the captain’s gaze on the side of his face, but held his ground staring out of the forward viewing port. He was happy to recall that he did have something to tell the captain. “The research team have confirmed the atmosphere is noxious and nothing should be able to breathe out there.”

The captain made a soft hmmm sound on an outward breath. “Seems to confirm my suspicions that the stress of entry affected some of the crew and that life out there is unlikely.”

Bedford ignored the challenge in his tone. He had seen much in his time in the aether. He was beginning to believe anything was possible.

“We’re still on course?”

As if Theobald had to ask. “Following the same sweeping pattern of descent, sir, only adjusting to avoid the hurricanes.”

Silence ensued, during which Bedford prepared himself for whatever came next.

“Tell me, if you were in my position, how long would you continue to search for land that all the scientists on Earth insist is not to be found?”

Was this some form of test? Bedford felt like saying he would look for as long as it took, which was to some degree true had they no other mission more urgent. He had to remember that they were here owing to recommendations from Stone and the other scientists on board and one of Stevenson’s “feelings”. Oddly, he felt more inclined to trust Stevenson than Stone, whose computations Bedford suspected were partly invented to suit the man’s requirements. Alas, he had no proof to dispute Stone’s calculations openly, and…he was self-aware enough to know personal feelings could be the cause of such suspicions, although he constantly fought against questioning Stone’s decisions.

Theobald turned to look at him and Bedford was reminded he’d still not replied. What if Theobald was right? What if they passed right through the other side and Jupiter had no centre, proved to be nothing more than a gaseous cloud of violent storms?

Fortunately, he was spared having to answer as Theobald continued. “I have accepted some of the crew, particularly Stevenson, having telepathic leanings.”

That sounded more like an opening to a long conversation rather than a statement, but Theobald confused Bedford by breaking off again. Accepting wasn’t the same as believing and Bedford wasn’t convinced Theobald meant what he said. The captain wouldn’t question reports regarding the Heart and the Drobates or the use of telepathy. No officer would do so openly, but that wasn’t the same thing as having faith. In Theobald’s case, the man would likely believe his superiors had reasons for what they did and that would provide him with sufficient confidence to follow directives even if he retained a niggling doubt. Or maybe that was Bedford’s own prejudices at work. Even if there was an element of truth to his thinking, Bedford didn’t entirely blame Theobald for his scepticism.

“At heart I’m a man of reality.”

That statement sounded true and aligned with Bedford’s view. He didn’t see Theobald as taking kindly to dealing with things ethereal. He was simply a man who would set aside his personal feelings to follow orders.

“The idea of telepathy…” Theobald shook his head. “Can’t imagine it’s something most officers could entirely grasp.”

As Bedford counted Theobald among them, he needed to control his expression. If not for the powers that be stating he had to take such things seriously, Bedford could imagine Theobald longing to throw Stevenson in the brig as a charlatan.

Theobald confirmed Bedford’s thoughts a moment later when he said, “Don’t know about you, Bedford, but I’m more comfortable with the idea of dinosaurs for they at least have physical form. If such beings pose a threat they are something I can aim a gun at.”

“Agreed, sir.” Bedford at least sympathised with this kind of thinking in a military man. He even appreciated it…to an extent. He still couldn’t get past the idea that this conversation served as some kind of investigation; his being assessed by Theobald.

Why now? They’d been in the aether for some weeks, but this was their first true mission since breaking through the asteroid belt. Theobald wanted to assess his performance, Bedford was sure.

Although the captain was the most seasoned officer in the Navy familiar with the recent upgrades to Sovereign, both men were aware Theobald had been placed in command owing to Bedford’s insufficient rank. Contention over this was a given. Pity, for he and Theobald could have made a good team—with Theobald’s more recent knowledge of the workings of the ship and Bedford’s unusual experiences, but it seemed not to be. Bedford found a cautious step necessary.

“So, what do you think, Bedford? Of us basing our search pattern on information from an apparently telepathic able seaman?”

Bedford understood the captain’s dislike, but didn’t share it. “Hardly one crewmember. We have other telepathically inclined individuals on board who have confirmed Stevenson’s intuition.” Bedford stated the obvious, noticed Theobald’s gaze upon him, and was even more assured that he was being tested. “Though, I understand and share your vexation, sir,” he said, surprised at the easiness of the lie coming from his lips. “Alas, with no other intelligence than speculation and scientific on which to base a theory, we have to take our guide from those who know best, sir. And if there is some truth to this telepathy than I would rather trust Stevenson.”

“Because of his experiences with the Drobates?”

“That is one reason. That and those who have sent us on this mission.”

Theobald nodded. “Those in authority greater than us.”

Just like Bedford’s lie, the words seemed to come out of his mouth without effort, but the way Theobald cast a glance in Bedford’s direction made him aware of the captain’s true dilemma. If he mistrusted his superiors’ decisions regarding his working alongside Bedford, Theobald should have no problems questioning those who believed in telepathy. That threw so much of his loyalty into question; the man had to be feeling completely torn. Bedford managed to feel sorry for the captain in this regard. Theobald lacked the practical participation of the things Bedford had seen and done, and the details of which his wife had told him. Of all the voices in the universe hers was the one he would never doubt.

“Change of watch, Commander.”

Bedford blinked. He’d failed to notice but didn’t miss the slight reproach in the captain’s voice. Theobald was the one who had kept him here. He was about to apologise nonetheless and remove himself from the bridge when he started in shock. Movement from outside drew his gaze.

Had he seen Quintana’s beast? He leaned forward, peering into the mist, vaguely aware he earned a frown from Theobald. His tension must have transferred to the other man for, despite any personal feelings of contention, Theobald followed Bedford’s gaze and stared out.

“There,” Bedford said.

“I see it.” Theobald directed the course of the ship closer to the phenomenon. When what they were seeing clarified in the drifting cloud cover, his expression registered as much surprise as any of the men on the bridge. “What on Earth…?”

Bedford felt tempted to remind him that the point was they were not on Earth.

The view grew ever more distinct and both men exchanged a look. Well, here was their land, but Bedford at once saw there was no way to dock. Large drifting plateaus of various shapes and size hung in the air, constantly moving. To try to take a ship the size of Sovereign through this bottleneck would be reckless, to navigate around fruitless. They were looking for land and here it lay, such as it was.

“Commander, organise a meeting with the research team. We have much to discuss.”

2.

“THE ONLY WAY THROUGH will be via a cutter. The question remains; is this expedition worth pursuing to its conclusion?” Bedford did not look at Stone while he said this. Things between them were strained enough. He’d never realised before how much Annabelle seemed to act like a buffer between them. He’d thought more of Stone before now, especially knowing what he meant to Annabelle, but these last weeks he’d failed to appreciate what he’d previously known of the man. Nathaniel Stone had changed. For all Bedford knew, Annabelle was the better part of the professor’s nature. Without her influence he seemed to grow cold. The very fact made Bedford almost…jealous.

He was also annoyed, with Stone and Folkard both. Folkard less so and he knew this was just a reaction, not entirely genuine. He had accepted he would require more weeks than had hereto passed for him to reach some resolution of his feelings, but acceptance had allowed for other emotions to emerge. Folkard had left him with a lot to process and a good deal of responsibility. He would have said it was always better to know the truth but now he could not be sure. The information Folkard had left him played a part in his present ambivalence and such thoughts led him to consider his initial meeting with Stone back in April of 1889 aboard Sovereign. He hadn’t liked Folkard revealing so much to the professor then.

Although it had not been Bedford’s position to question his superior, he had done so, and he hadn’t appreciated how Folkard had dismissed him. He had thought there was something…not quite right with Stone even then, and he hadn’t been wrong to question Folkard’s reasons for taking the man entirely too much into his confidence. A great many things had happened since, and he could not help but wonder whether Folkard would have treated Stone in quite the same way had he known of the man predilections. Bedford hated to be proved right, but more than his dislike he resented the distraction from his duty. Worse, he resented that Nathaniel Stone was not the man Annabelle believed.

Bedford indulged these thoughts while Captain Theobald was looking at the research team who had raised their voices in unison…all except Stone. He sat and stared at Theobald who, after a quick glance at everyone else at the conference table, stared back. When the voices of the other scientists died down, Theobald said, “I appreciate you are all men of science and that it is a matter of curiosity for you all; however—”

“My interest is hardly curious,” Quintana interrupted, managing to express affront.

While he spoke, Bedford glanced at Katharina Wollf to see if she had caught the captain’s exclusion of her sex. She met his gaze, giving the slightest shake of her head. She even managed to look more amused than he would be.

Theobald raised a hand. “I appreciate your scientific interest, but I need to put the safety of the crew and the success of the mission foremost. While we are making good progress and I am happy to take time for any side missions that may benefit our task, Jupiter presents a number of problems to overcome. I also appreciate that none of you can tell me what we will find so there is no real way to know what will benefit us and what won’t until we investigate. What I require, Stone, is your assurance that you’ve made sufficient progress to facilitate extra precautions for this excursion.”

“The breathing apparatus requires testing, and the sub-aether wireless transceivers…” Stone looked at Fontaine. Bedford could have sworn the doctor’s expression was one of irritation; he had to make a conscious effort not to examine their interaction too closely.

“Similarly,” Fontaine said. “We’ve tried the two prototypes. They work but require some fine adjustment.”

“And if that adjustment can be made forthwith, how many units could you have ready for an excursion in four hours’ time?” Theobald asked.

“Four?” Fontaine seemed surprised. When everyone continued to look at him, he added, “Maybe half a dozen.”

“It would be better if every man had one, but it would be enough to divide the team somewhat,” Bedford advised.

Theobald nodded. “The new breathing apparatus. If they work as you claim, you’re sure the air supply will last as long as you say?”

“With sufficient cylinder changes, yes.” Stone sounded more confident than Bedford believed he felt.

“In that case, I propose an investigation of forty-eight hours.”

“Two days?” For the first time during the meeting Stone became animated. “That’s not nearly… With the new speeds we can spare the time. We can set up a base camp, send men back and forth to cover our requirements, supplies, replacement cylinders.”

“It is all you are getting, Stone. Better make the most of it.”

Bedford knew that tone and apparently so did Stone, for he ceased to argue. If pressed, Theobald would likely shorten the time allotted for their exploration.

3.

“HEADACHE, DOCTOR FONTAINE?”

Arnaud rubbed at the back of his neck. “More like neck ache.”

Doctor Beverly grimaced. “Well, stress can do much to a person, affect them in allsortsaways.”

Arnaud found the singsong sound of the Welshman’s voice quite soothing, particularly the way “in all sorts of ways” had run together. He sat patiently while the doctor looked in his eyes, told him to follow the passage of his fingers. He finished his examination by taking Arnaud’s pulse. Arnaud waited until Beverly had finished what he felt was a cursory inspection. Surely a person’s health should warrant more care, though he grew as tired of spending so much time in the sick-bay and being prodded, as Beverly likely was of treating him. Arnaud had tried not to come today, but with the prospect of exploring Jupiter caution and discomfort had finally driven him here. This particular ache had been going on for some time and was beginning to worry him.

When the chance arose, Arnaud spoke his mind. “This has been happening…how you would say, on and off for some weeks. I thought your treatments would have helped.” He tried not to sound accusing.

Doctor Beverly paused to stare directly at him. “Ah, you’re saying they’ve not, then?”

Arnaud moved to nod and then hesitated, considering. “Rarement. A little…maybe.” He couldn’t be sure. Possibly he suffered them a little less.

The doctor was shaking his head, which made Arnaud feel like a scolded child and foolish. Even more so when Beverly smiled and said, “I feel as helpless in this as you.”

Hardly what any patient wanted to hear but Beverly was not finished.

“With everything you’ve been through, I cannot promise you there will be no lingering effects. I cannot promise to cure all your woes. I can say that as long as you continue to come to me now, when you feel unwell, that in time the medication I’m treating you with may continue to improve things, even cure the ache in your neck. You have done well, but no doctor would be able to promise that you will not suffer to some degree for some time.” His expression appeared apologetic. “Even years ahead.”

“You mean permanently.” Arnaud had naturally considered this. If an aching neck was all he had to contend with compared to how badly things could have gone for him, he had no right to complain.

Maybe Beverly saw his dejection for he gave him a thump on the back that in no way took into account his aches and pains. Beverly could be quite boisterous.

“We will work on trying to get you well together, hmm?”

What else could Arnaud do but nod?

“I tell you, I cannot decide whether to feel sorry for you or envious, I can’t.”

“No wish to leave the ship?” Arnaud said with some amusement, happy to talk about anything other than his being sick.

“Likely depends on which hour of the day you ask me, and where we happen to be. Jupiter may be more than I could appreciate. You’re going down in…?”

“I think…” Arnaud blinked, surprised at how swiftly time was passing. “About two hours.” He had made the adjustments to the sub-aether wireless transceivers, which his team had taken to calling SAWs. Reception could be crackly, and Fenn was overseeing the construction of two more units. They were cutting it fine, but chances were he’d have devices numbering six in time for the expedition.

“Well, I can’t do much to lessen the stress, I can’t, but I might be able to do something for that neck ache.”

4.

THE SMALLER BREATHING UNITS had been loaded onto a cart and were to be taken down in the cutter along with other scientific equipment and supplies that the team would need for the next forty-eight hours, or longer. Despite the specially refurbished cutters, capacity was limited and there had been some argument over what was needed. The discussions had not only been restricted to supplies. Theobald commanded Bedford to take charge and had then chosen all those besides the required research members. When Stone asked for both Stevenson and Fenn the captain had at first refused and then asked for what reasons. Stone explained his actions—the need for Stevenson’s guidance and the possible requirement of a skilled engineer—and after some disagreement where Stone pressed his point, the captain allowed him one. In return, the captain had wanted to keep Kaplan and Fontaine on board, but Stone had insisted otherwise. Bedford and some of the researchers had the dubious privilege of standing by during the “conversation”.

“I am sorry, Professor. I am also not going to allow the researchers to outnumber my men who will be there to aid you in any way they can, including protection.” Theobald stressed the last word.

“I’d rather leave Wollf.”

“I…agree in that regard. Unfortunately, owing to the alliance agreement, I can only restrict her taking part under certain circumstances, and this is not one of them. As it is, because you insist on taking many lead members, the lesser researchers are going to be left behind at least for this particular mission.”

“Captain, I’ve explained—”

“Yes, yes. You’ve made your decision because of Jupiter’s uniqueness, enormity, and because of the severely limited time, but I do not see where you need two mineral experts on this expedition, particularly when Wollf will also be part of your team.”

“She’s a meteorologist, not a mineralogist.”

“I am perfectly aware of her expertise. She has sufficient skills to assist should the need arise, and as you also specifically requested Quintana…” Theobald broke off pointedly.

Again another staring contest of the sort they were all becoming so used to seeing took place. Would Stone continue to argue? Bedford was sure if he did, Theobald would remove more members of the research team from the trip. Nathaniel Stone was meant to be in charge of that section, but Theobald was not the sort to allow anyone complete autonomy. Early days yet; the men were pushing each other, testing their limits. Bedford was sure Stone would acquiesce and leave Kaplan behind.

“I will take Quintana and Kaplan.”

Bedford drew on all his training not to blink. Fontaine was not so able to disguise his reaction. He jerked in apparent shock, gaze upon Stone’s face. The professor failed to look his way, just continued his staring contest with the captain, until the other man nodded.

The cutter would be ready to embark in thirty minutes. Stone wasted no time in leaving.

Kaplan had also shown shock, though of a different sort. As Bedford rose to leave, Kaplan stopped beside Fontaine where the other man still sat. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then merely shook his head.

In reply, Fontaine rose to his feet. “Do not pretend to be sorry,” he said quietly. Then a second later, his expression and tone softened somewhat. “Good luck down there. And don’t damage my sub-aether wireless transceivers,” he added after a slight hesitation.

5.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE man,” Tally said. “He won’t let ya have the researchers ya need but says it’s fine if ya want me to tag along. And why is that, mate?”

“Which part?”

“Me, out there, in a…a…whatever ya call ’em. Sodding aether suit thing. Now if it were a case of stepping off onto solid land…” He shrugged, certain Nate would get his drift…although thoughts of drifting brought him back to the chunks of floating land out there. Land was supposed to stay in one place, not hang around on currents of nothingness. “What fer ya want me anyways?” He’d rather go with Nate than be left behind but he didn’t want to look too willing.

“To watch my back.”

“Yer saying ya don’t trust this lot?” Tally lowered his voice, not wanting anyone to overhear as he was unsure who to include in the “lot” of which he spoke.

“I don’t know yet. I’m sure Theobald will have at least one man reporting back to him on our behaviour. Bedford’s included.”

“Sure and that makes sense. A captain’s spy.” Tally considered this a real possibility. “I’m telling ya though, I’m not sure I’m up ta…” Tally drew to a halt. Sophia Davies’s pretty face filled his vision. Nathaniel glanced at him but carried on walking.

Davies waited until he’d gone a few paces then said in a sort of breathless rush. “I just heard. Tally…” She clasped his arm. “Be careful out there.”

“That I will, Miss.” Did she really expect him to be anything else?

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

Tally opened his mouth to do just that but hesitated. He didn’t like to make promises he might not be capable of keeping. “To be sure and I’ll try my best.”

She nodded and moved past, pausing to look back. “I envy you.” She bestowed him with that smile that seemed to encompass so many things at once, before hurrying off.

She envied him? Tally was tempted to tell her she could go in his place, but of course that wasn’t up to him and the thought was hardly gallant. He wouldn’t really put her in harm’s way, and he wouldn’t leave Nate’s side if he could help it.

He turned and hurried after Nathaniel, who had apparently slowed his stride enough so that Tally easily caught up.

Nathaniel looked at him. “What goes on there?”

“Goes…on? Why nothing, nothing.”

“Do you want it to?”

A little more heat than seemed warranted suffused his face. “Can’t say that I do. Heavens, Nate, I’m too old for her.” A thought of Jenny who he’d left behind went through his mind. “Ya know I got me someone. It ain’t that at all.”

Nate just glanced at him sideways and down, offering up a smile.

“I’m tellin’ ya the truth. I honestly don’t know how I feel about the girl. Protective, I guess.” Now that he thought it, the feeling rang true. The desire to keep the girl safe shone out brightest.

“Nothing more?”

They were both men and considering what the professor got up to… Well to be sure he didn’t want to dwell on that, but it meant he hardly need prevaricate. “Not sure I’m up to…to romance even if she were interested, and closer to me own age and I were available. I’m thinking I’m more uncle material.”

“Good. Because Chief Boswell would probably use any number of tools from engineering in all sorts of inventive ways on anyone who hurt her.”

He must have been wearing goggles because for the life of him Tally couldn’t say that had occurred to him before. “Would he have objections to someone, another someone, taking up the role in the sense of uncle material, do ya think?”

“Maybe not if I explain it to him.”

“Would ya?” That came as a blessed relief. Whatever happened he did want to make sure Sophia was never upset.

“I’m sure he’ll be glad of someone else watching out for her, as long as he understands that’s all it is. As long as the man doing so holds to that vow.”

Tally blanched. It hadn’t occurred to him that protecting her could amount to self-preservation.

6.

OWING TO THE TERRAIN where they were having to land, the men donned their atmosphere suits and took up their positions in the cutter.

As it eased away from Sovereign the hull began to vibrate. Although they were in a relatively quiet area, the cutter was much smaller in comparison to the main ship and the passengers could feel the lingering effects of the tail end of a storm. As soon as the flight levelled off, Nathaniel joined Bedford in the forward section.

“What do you think, Stone?”

Nathaniel stared where Bedford indicated. Several layers below them the ground appeared almost solid. There were several cave entrances.

“If there’s an inner core it’s the best evidence of one we’ve seen.”

“Can’t land the cutter there. The ground is too uneven.”

Petty Officer Pinfold appeared to be calculating and searching in agreement with Bedford’s comment, circling the cutter over the rising table of ground. Finally he pointed. “How about there, sirs?”

Stone and Bedford both looked, exchanged glances. Stone was the first to answer. “Higher and further away from the core than I’d like.”

“Agreed. I can see why you’ve chosen it, Pinfold. Well done, but take one more pass to be certain.”

They did, but eventually Bedford made the only decision open to them. The area Pinfold had spotted provided more than enough space to set down the cutter and a direct if staggered route to a sector containing several openings.

“Set us down.” Bedford gave the order and even as the pilot aligned the cutter, Nathaniel stood.

“I’ll return to the aft section.”

Bedford managed a smile. “Checking on how Tally is doing, eh?”

7.

THE CUTTER MOVED THROUGH the uneven layers, the passengers controlling various levels of tension. At one point the transport slewed to one side. A few men gasped.

“Close one,” someone muttered.

Another laughed. “Close means you survived.”

Tally swallowed. He hadn’t liked the look of the cutter, not on Jupiter at any rate, for it seemed too small. Size was relative, especially here. One-thousand and three-hundred Earths to fit inside Jupiter; it didn’t bare thinking about. Sovereign was but a pebble, which made the cutter a speck. Getting into this thing to head away from the ship had been bad enough but it hadn’t helped when he’d realised the cutter carried thirteen crew members. Whose stupid idea was that? Tally would have said he wasn’t suspicious, no more than your average man anyway, but he didn’t like the idea, especially when he’d overheard one of the crew make mention of The Thirteenth Man.

“What’s the thirteenth man?” Tally had asked in all innocence.

“Cutter carries thirteen, unlucky for some.”

“Oh…” He’d frowned in puzzlement.

“Don’t worry, mate,” the seaman whose name had escaped Tally largely owing to his nerves twanging, said. “We tend ta apportion that dubious honour to the last man on board who gets the last seat.”

The last seat was a pull down contraption put in almost as an afterthought and squeezed in to a small space at the back.

Tally glanced over now. Kaplan had been last on board and if the way he kept shifting around was any way to judge then the seat was as uncomfortable as it looked.

For the most part talk was non-existent. In the aft section the view outside was limited, and Tally felt grateful for that. He’d seen the front of the cutter and knew what an uninterrupted view Nathaniel, Bedford, and Pinfold were getting right now.

As if he’d conjured him, the door separating the sections opened and Nathaniel returned. He took the seat next to Tally, who nodded to him in place of hugging on to him fiercely. His nervousness far outweighed any embarrassment and uneasiness caused by the thought. Still, Nathaniel had obviously learned how to pick up on his moods.

“How are you fairing?”

“I’ve been shoved into the equivalent of a giant torpedo with a glass tip at the front and fins on the back, and a fire at the rear end to boot. How d‘ya think I’m fairing?”

Nathaniel smiled and a few who had overheard grinned. “We’ll be landing shortly.”

“Feck,” Tally muttered. A few more of the men turned to look at him. He shrugged. “Just worked out it’s almost midnight. Missin’ me shuteye.”

In private, Nathaniel might have teased, even though Tally would have insisted he truly was feeling the pangs of insufficient sleep. The excitement and urgent demand of this mission had overtaken more mundane needs.

Something popped. A small light began to flash. A crewman tapped, and then ignored it. Despite the man being relaxed Tally grabbed for his helmet. As the other more experienced men looked at him, he regained a little equilibrium. He waited in silence as the cutter landed, and then followed the rest as they began to fasten and check each other’s headgear.

A few minutes later, each man attached the hose before pulling the ring releasing the air they needed to breathe, and stood ready to exit.