I look up. The space we’re in is a metal rectangle. The floor beneath us is the grate. The walls of the room are featureless. The door to the dark water beyond fits seamlessly into rubber strips. It looks pressure-sealed. A succession of thumping noises and hollow moans comes from the metal walls. The blast of a turbine.

On the other side of the room is another door with an opaque portal window.

I stand and walk to the door. Five strides.

It’s closed. Locked. The window is too grimy to see through. I bang on the door with the heel of my fist. No response.

On the wall is a red button. I hit it and the door on the opposite side ratchets open, sending in a wave of water. I slam the button again and the outside door closes.

I walk back to Vidhan, dripping, and crouch on my haunches.

He looks at me with eyes unmoored, his glasses gone.

“The darkness,” he whispers, wide-eyed, like he’s going into shock. “I feel it, Ana. It’s all around us. D’ya see it?”

“Nothing’s gonna get us, Vidhan.”

He takes a shuddering breath and releases. Then he sits up on his elbows, lucid suddenly. “Ana?” he says.

“Vidhan. S’all right,” I say. “It’s OK.”

“Got bushwhacked,” he says, groaning, holding his side. “Soon as I came through the Fall. Before I even hit the water.”

“Reaper?”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “I mean…I dunno. Maybe.”

“Did you see Malik?” I ask. “Akuji?”

“They’ll be OK. Always are.” He coughs and groans.

“Just…take it easy, Vidhan. Rest.”

“Yeah. Could do with that. Reckon it’s time for old Vidhan Blue to Settle.”

Vidhan sweats and shakes and I bunch his grey hoodie and press it down on the wound, staunching the blood. His body clenches.

“You could’ve told me, by the way,” I say to distract him.

“Told ya what?”

“The breathing underwater thing. A minor detail.”

He smiles. “Ah yeah. Your first time. Never easy, that.”

“ ‘I bloody hope you can swim?’ That’s how you chose to warn me?”

He laughs, coughs and grimaces.

“Mate, there’s no real way to prepare for that kinda shock. Best to be unprepared, actually. Let the body take over.” He laughs again and that triggers another fit of coughing and he clutches his side.

“Vidhan, you shouldn’t—”

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just, don’t make me laugh.”

We listen to the thumps and groans of the ship. “What is this thing?” I ask, pulling off my hoodie, wringing it dry.

“Jövian submersible, I reckon,” he says, wincing.

“Looked like a whale from out there.”

“Rather be taken by a bloody whale.” He coughs and holds his side. “Ah man, I need 41, some of his meds. That’ll sort me.”