Willard focused his thought on the task at hand, escaping from the gargantuan bowels. The feeling Willard couldn't shake, even after determining he'd hallucinated the talking Europhid, was the nagging sense of hope—the knowledge that he knew what to do. Without questioning why, Willard turned to the far wall and gunned the propulsion unit forward. He sped through the digestive fluid, not being able to see any exit, but believing, knowing, it lay ahead.

CHAPTER 22 -- PASSAGE

A polar chill shook through Connelly's body. It had been a half hour since Willard had entered the water, and by her estimations, if nothing went wrong, he should have arrived at their location five minutes ago. She knew that under normal circumstances a five minute delay would be nothing to fret over. But in this strange new world with unknown luminous behemoths and savage predators, five minutes might signify that the worst case scenario for Willard had occurred…and that the worst case scenario for she and Robert would soon arrive.

She looked at the air gauge. They had twenty minutes remaining, but that was only because they had thinned the air by half, making every breath laborious and deficient. A perpetual feeling of lightheadedness permeated Connelly. She and Robert had given up on conserving air by not talking. With the end near, neither wanted to die in silence. They focused on recalling memories from the past.

But the stories soon faded, replaced by an unrelenting sense of doom. Five more minutes passed before either of them spoke again.

"Are we officially giving up on him?"

"Robert." The tone in Connelly's voice forbade him from saying it again.

"What?" Robert said. "He's never this late. Not during an emergency."

"Remember that time in the Arctic?" Connelly said. "You got stuck in the squall and hid under a frost heave for three hours before Willard reached you."

"It was a white out," Robert said, indignant. "How was he supposed to find me faster?"

"You had a GPS tracking device sewn into your gear. He knew where you were."

Robert stared straight ahead working hard to hide his surprise. "Why would he make me wait?"

Connelly smiled. "He was teaching you a lesson."

"What could Willard teach me?"

"A few things…"

Robert raised his eyebrows. He wanted examples.

"Every time Willard's given a storm warning since that day, you hauled ass back to base. He never had to chase after you again." Connelly stretched and took a deep breath, which did little to ease the burning in her chest. "While you were shaking in your boots, we were sipping on hot chocolate and playing checkers."

"That little—I could have frozen to death." Robert locked his gaze onto Connelly.  "Wait. You knew?"

"Calm down before you use up all our air," Connelly said.

"I could have died."