I grabbed him and gave him a tug to help him on his way, and I saw a glimpse of Byron at the door. He was drawing out motes. Behind him, Damsel was already heading through the tunnel, visible more by the froth behind her, the water and debris turbulent.

Bubbles slipped through my lips. How long had it been? Twenty seconds? Forty? A minute? Two minutes?

I was ready to get to a place I could breathe now, and I still had too much to do. I pushed urgency out of mind, with a growing feeling that if I did start to panic, I’d be less able to handle it because I’d put it off.

The hair, as I flew to intercept, was Monokeros’s. She wasn’t really trying to swim.

I saw flashing, and for a moment, I thought it was the server somehow still alive. Then I saw the shape. The side of someone illuminated by the flash, a line with slight curves that could have been someone’s leg or back. A human kind of shape.

I flew past Monokeros to the other shape. The flashing continued—Lookout’s flash gun, aimed at the wall. A signal. It was a steady series of flashes, until the gun ceased to work. I saw her smack the gun a few times.

She didn’t even realize I was there until I put my hands on her shoulders. Her head turned, and multiple round red eyes appeared in the dark, focusing on me, some narrowing like an old camera’s shutter. She raised her hand in a small wave, and some of the lenses went dark.

Somewhere in the background, there was a detonation. I could feel it through the water, muted as any sound or vibration would be. It still shook my entire body.

I drew her close, pulling her tight to my side so we might be able to move faster through the water, with less drag. The return hug was bear-hug fierce, shocking after the casualness of the wave a moment ago.

I took flight, heading back the way I’d come. I was a little less gentle with Monokeros, gripping her wrist in passing, wrenching it as I went.

Even approaching the tunnel was a complete change. The debris had flowed in this direction, and with the movement of water from a larger room to a narrower corridor, the churn was worse. It threatened to tear Monokeros from my grip. Byron was still there, waiting.

I didn’t get that far before tendrils gripped me.

Two living people in my arms. I couldn’t use my forcefield or strength.

The tendrils pulled away.

It was always Tristan who had done the hand gestures or motions to accompany the uses of his power. This time, it was Byron moving his arm, touching a mote, and then moving his arm toward the hallway we were aiming to enter.

Ah.