The Diving Bundle: Six Diving Universe Novellas Read Online Free PDF Page A

the handheld readout. J&J are working something that might be a hatch.
    “A lot of wartimes,” she says, “over many centuries, from what historians have found out.”
    “But never out here,” I say.
    And she concedes. “Never out here.”
    “So what are you so concerned about?”
    “By not telling us what it is, we can’t prepare,” she says. “What if there’re weapons or explosives or something else—”
    “Like that barrier?” I ask.
    Her lips thin.
    “We’ve worked unknown wrecks before, you and me, together.”
    She shrugs. “But they’re of a type. We know the history, we know the vessels, we know the capabilities. We don’t know this at all. No one really knows what these ancient ships were capable of. It’s something that shouldn’t be here.”
    “A mystery,” I say.
    “A dangerous one.”
    “Hey!” Junior’s voice is tinny and small. “We got it open! We’re going in.”
    Squishy and I turn toward the sound. I can’t see either man on the wreck itself. The handheld’s imagery is shaky.
    I press the comm, hoping they can still hear me. “Probe first. Remember that barrier.”
    But they don’t answer, and I know why not. I wouldn’t either in their situation. They’re pretending they don’t hear. They want to be the first inside, the first to learn the secrets of the wreck.
    The handheld moves inside the darkness. I see four tiny lights—Jypé’s glove lights—and I see the same particles I saw before, on the first images from the earliest probe.
    Then the handheld goes dark. We were going to have to adjust it to transmit through the metal of the wreck.
    “I don’t like this,” Squishy says.
    I’ve never liked any time I was out of sight and communication with the team.
    We stare at the wreck as if it can give us answers. It’s big and dark, a blob against our screen. Squishy actually goes to the portals and looks, as if she can see more through them than she can through the miracle of science.
    But she doesn’t. And the handheld doesn’t wink on.
    On my screen, the counter ticks away the minutes.
    Our argument isn’t forgotten, but it’s on hold as the first members of our little unit vanish inside.
    After thirty-five minutes—fifteen of them inside (Jypé has rigorously stuck to the schedule on each of his dives, something which has impressed me)—I start to get nervous.
    I hate the last five minutes of waiting. I hate it even more when the waiting goes on too long, when someone doesn’t follow the time-table I’ve devised.
    Squishy, who’s never been in the skip with me, is pacing. She doesn’t say any more—not about danger, not about the way I’m running this little trip, not about the wreck itself.
    I watch her as she moves, all grace and form, just like she’s always been. She’s never been on a real mystery run. She’s done dangerous ones—maybe two hundred deep space dives into wrecks that a lot of divers, even the most greedy, would never touch.
    But she’s always known what she’s diving into, and why it’s where it is.
    Not only are we uncertain as to whether or not this is an authentic Dignity Vessel (and really, how can it be?), we also don’t know why it’s here, how it came here, or what its cargo was. We have no idea what its mission was either—if, indeed, it had a mission at all.
    37:49
    Squishy’s stopped pacing. She looks out the portals again, as if the view has changed. It hasn’t.
    “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” I ask. “That’s the bottom line, isn’t it? This is the first time in years that you’ve been afraid.”
    She stops, stares at me as if I’m a creature she’s never seen before, and then frowns.
    “Aren’t you?” she asks.
    I shake my head.
    The handheld springs to life, images bouncy and grainy on the corner of my screen. My stomach unclenches. I’ve been breathing shallowly and not even realizing it.
    Maybe I am afraid, just a little.
    But not of the wreck. The wreck is a curiosity, a project, a