An insistent beeping roused him, an indeterminate time later.
He opened his eyes. He was floating on his back. His helmet lamp reflected off a wet rock ceiling, just a metre or two above his head. He hurt all over, but the worst pains seemed to be coming from his chest—he must have broken a rib—and his shoulder, which he thought he must have dislocated. “Revelation Jihad,” he whispered.
Nothing happened.
“Revelation Jihad,” he said louder.
Still nothing.
The shockwave must have disabled my nanoputer, he thought, and felt the first budding of panic.
Those buds blossomed into full-fledged terror when a girl suddenly erupted out of the water beside him and stared down into his face.
He screamed, and her eyes widened and she screamed back, then disappeared under the water again. That di
