The celebration is short-lived. Skye spends the next hour pacing, going back and forth between the fabricator and the various upgrade consoles, eyes glued to her PDA all the while. By the sound of it, she's keeping a running tally of the raw materials required to take you through the Lost River.
Double food rations, double water rations, extra medkits, a maximum depth module for your Seamoth, storage modules to replace the soon-to-be useless solar rechargers, not to mention an entire Prawn Suit and the whole gambit of upgrades and arm modifications for that as well. You could theoretically scrap the entire base and not have all the materials you would need – besides, Skye doesn't want to scrap the base.
Her exasperation is palpable. She has additional resources stored in her final base, but at a minimum, you need the remainder of the Seamoth upgrades in order to reach it. Her greatest concern is reaching the Lost River and discovering that she still won't have enough resources to build the equipment you need. Despite its growing scarcity, such raw materials are still easier and safer to gather on the "surface." Once she makes the dive down to the deep, she doesn't want to have to turn around again.
Add onto that the limited inventory space split between two PDAs and the two Seamoths, and her planning grows frantic and frustrating. She tries counting by resource type, then by importance. Eventually she clips her PDA to her belt and announces that she needs stuff and she won't find any stuff by walking back and forth. What's more, being out in the water helps her think, she claims, and she can better visualize her options when she can see what is in front of her.
You hope she's right.
"I want to help," you tell her.
She continues adjusting her radiation suit.
"You don't have to," she says.
You are fairly confident that if you changed your mind again, Skye would let you stay without any fuss.
"I want to," you repeat.
"Well, you obviously can't come with me," she says, pulling on the fabric around her shin. "I'm heading back to the debris field, and I don't trust the estimated dissipation period – radiation lingers."
She pulls up her PDA and opens a new interface screen.
"C'mon you dumb thing, load."
She puts the tablet down and goes back to straightening the suit.
"If you want, you can go out to the exterior growbeds and collect some things for me. I was planning on making a second reinforced dive suit once I reached the Lost River, but we might as well make one now. Read up on the exact quantities, but I'm pretty sure we'll need blood oil and Creepvine cuttings. I'll keep an eye out for extra diamonds."
The exterior growbeds. You observe the collection of deep-sea planter boxes from a large window less than a stone's throw away. At almost two hundred meters down, the light levels outside can be best described as dark and darker. Still, you easily identify the towering columns of Creepvine by their lantern-like seed clusters, and the spindlier Bloodvines by their ghostly glow. The majority of the other cultivated plants emanate their own bioluminescence, blending together to form a rainbow of color.
You need what's out there to be in here, or more specifically, in your PDA. That's where the trouble starts.
You could just open up the nearest hatch and free swim to the growbeds, but then you'd have to free swim back. If you piloted your Seamoth around from the other side of the base, you could use its front-facing lights to illuminate the area around the growbeds so you could see better. You could also climb back into the Seamoth to replenish your oxygen. Then again, the Seamoth's lights could attract something to your location. You could get cuttings off the Creepvine inside the alien containment chamber, but you'd still have to go outside to get the blood oil for the benzene for the synthetic fibers. Oh, and there's still a miniature Stalker in that particular containment tank.
You decide to go with the Seamoth.
It splashes down and stabilizes with a cheery, "All systems online."
You steer the small craft around the base, all of your senses on high alert for anything that could be lurking just beyond the reach of your lights. You find nothing out of the ordinary; the deep murmurings of the Sea Treaders are the only sounds to penetrate your protective bubble.
Reaching up to grasp the hatch release, your hand freezes. You know you only have a few seconds to exit the Seamoth after you open the lid. It'll be like stepping into one of the big aquariums. Except you have to go straight up. And it's bigger. And darker.
You snap your hand back.
You can't do it.
You told Skye you would.
To waste time, you putter around the growbeds, giving the area a more thorough search for potential threats. A couple poorly positioned Eyeyes give you a bit of a start, but they zoom away from your blinding beams.
You can do this. You've got your knife, you've got your PDA – you're ready to go.
Taking up your position and ensuring your lights are aimed directly at the growbeds, you reach up for the hatch release. When your glove touches the cool metal latch, your other hand comes up and lightly taps your shoulder.
"Son of a . . ."
You drop your hand and pilot the Seamoth back to the moonpool to retrieve an oxygen tank.
The third time you maneuver the Seamoth in front of the growbeds, you do not allow yourself the same hesitation.
You push open the hatch and follow it up – pulled into the frigid waters that run along the Sea Treader's path. Your body immediately screams to get back in the Seamoth, but Skye gave you a task, one proportionate to picking flowers from a garden.
You paddle to the gently swaying Creepvine and latch on. You are not regulating your oxygen consumption in the slightest and you do not give a fuck. The Seamoth casts stark shadows in the vines; the oscillating contrast is akin to flashes. After a few moments of irregular breathing and wide, slimy leaves fluttering around your head, you gain the fortitude of will to pull out your knife from where you tucked it into your belt.
You drop the knife.
"Thirty seconds."
In the bright and colorful aquariums, this was an annoying reminder – one you could fool yourself into believing you might be able to ignore. At least for a little while longer. Out in the big ocean, it invokes a violent reaction.
You claw towards the light, panic rising in your throat when a few of the dark green tendrils wrap around and cling to your limbs. You slip free and swim as fast as you can.
The Seamoth proves to be more unmovable than you anticipated. Regardless, you grapple for the hatch and wrench it open with more adrenaline than is recommended. The automatic water guard creates a barrier between you and life-giving breathable air, and you propel yourself straight through.
"All systems online."
Admittedly, climbing into the Seamoth is not exactly similar to climbing out of the alien containment tanks. For starters, you don't have experience properly orientating yourself before swimming through the air-water barrier, so you are dumped into your seat upside down. Suddenly finding yourself upside down with your weight resting on your neck, you inadvertently activate one of the thrusters with your leg, which results in the Seamoth bumping into the base platform. Multiple times.
"Oh I hate the ocean. I hate the ocean. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate the ocean."
Seamoth hull at eighty-seven percent, you seize the controls and ease away from the base. Back in front of the planters, you maneuver around the Creepvine column until you locate your knife, sticking out of the soil.
Scowl firmly in place, you give the situation one more, "I hate the ocean," before launching into attempt two.
This time you swim for your knife, and upon grabbing it, begin hacking away at the dense plant. The dismembered leaves float around you as you continue your assault. Next comes storing the clippings in your PDA. Tucking your knife back into your belt, you take your PDA in one hand and chase after the Creepvine samples with the other. You practiced loading and unloading items with your PDA in the aquariums, and you blame your suddenly uncoordinated attempts on non-simulated ocean current and general panic. Many of your storage attempts are not successful on the first try.
While you collect the plant samples, you keep an eye on the oxygen meter on your HUD. Unable to locate any more chopped vegetation, and approaching the halfway limit of your air, you decide to head back.
This time you climb into the Seamoth feet first, but doing so correctly must be an acquired art, because you are horribly sideways and bang your shins.
"All systems online."
"Don't mock me."
When you manage to unstick yourself, you check your PDA. You managed to collect five Creepvine samples.
"Hell yeah!"
Your goal was two, but you're sure you can find uses for the others. Skye forces you to eat them on occasion, so there's that.
You wince when you see the sizable chunk you lopped out of the vine's body. It'll survive. Hopefully.
Next is the blood oil, and you tell yourself three, only three, before exiting your Seamoth and swimming to another planter. The oil itself is found at the base of the plant, and is contained in clear, blister-like fluid sacks.
Using your hands, you gently pry the morbid juice packs away from the plant and hold them near the PDA's corner for downloading.
"Thirty seconds."
Hurrying your motions, you finish removing the final deposit of blood oil and store it safely in your PDA. Back to the Seamoth and another less-than-graceful landing, and your task is complete.
The next day, you construct your very own reinforced dive suit. You return Skye's borrowed suit.
Ever the glutton for punishment, you ask, "What's next?"
"Come with me to the mushroom forest."
The forest itself is huge; at least it's brightly lit. The tree-sized mushrooms provide excellent cover from anything that might try to chase you, Skye points out. They also provide difficult maneuvering challenges for a novice Seamoth captain. This time, Skye beckons you out of your Seamoth and supervises the repairs so you learn how to do it.
You find a wrecked portion of the Aurora, but Skye assures you it has been thoroughly scavenged. Her aim is raw materials, and the mushroom forest is one of the few biomes containing all the varieties of mineral deposits as well as one of the widest selections of organic resources.
She plants you smack dab in the middle of the forest, rattles off a "grocery list" of things to collect, and then speeds off to scavenge the more dangerous edges.
"I might be out of range," she says, referring to the comms, "but I'll try to check in every few minutes."
Left to your own devices, you scout out the area first. There aren't too many mineral deposits in plain sight, but you eventually find a small cluster and get out to collect them. You find some additional deposits halfway up the mushroom trees. Looking up, the sun shines brightly on the water's surface.
Seamoth positioned a few meters below the waves, you get out and swim to the surface, taking the first breath of nonfiltered air you've had in days. The smaller, pale moon is behind the larger, red moon – only a thin portion of it is visible.
"Hey Stalker Bait?" your PDA crackles.
Detaching the tablet from your belt, you hold it up to activate your microphone.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I'm rounding . . . that borders the blood kelp islands. I've . . . a lot of silver, which is great for the . . . 'ectrical components we need. How about you?"
"Copper. Mostly copper, and some salt. Did you want me to collect any coral while I'm here?"
There is a pause. "Say that again."
"Do you want me to collect any coral?"
"Oh, coral. Yes, get Table Coral. And if . . . find any metal salvage, get that too."
"Roger," you say, "I'll pick up any metal salvage I find."
"Thanks. Stay alert."
You head back into the dense fungal forest. When you have six copper pieces, you move them over to your Seamoth's storage compartment.
As you sweep the grassy ocean floor and scale the Tree Mushrooms in search of minerals, the hair on the back of your neck tingles. You look over your shoulder but see only a school of Peepers and your Seamoth. You get back into your craft and continue searching somewhere else.
The next time you get out to harvest some good-sized coral pieces, the feeling returns. You spin around, but there is nothing nearby.
"Hey Skye," you venture. "I think there's something out here."
The other end of the line is silent.
You break off some pieces of the coral and store them away in your PDA. Plenty of oxygen still in your tanks, you round the large tree, looking for any deposits that may be sticking out of its trunk. When you finish the revolution, you see a shadow dart behind a tree on the other side of the clearing. You get back in your Seamoth and go investigate.
The area is clear. You find nothing.
"Skye? Mark to Skye," you say. Still no response.
You check your PDA – room for nine more things. Your hunger is getting a little low, but you brought some lantern fruit, and you can eat in the Seamoth a little later. Once you do, you'll have an extra four spaces.
Exploring a new section of the mushroom forest, you find some trees with undisturbed mineral deposits. Using the branches as convenient platforms, you park your Seamoth and float from tree to tree, collecting whatever minerals you happen to come across. You take a quick air break inside your Seamoth, then go to gather the rest.
You hear a noise and turn around. You see your Seamoth, but you also see a Boneshark, nudging the glass on your Seamoth. After a few seconds, it turns, noticing you. Screeching, it charges.
"Skye," you shout as you paddle back, the only thing you can think to say in your panic.
The Shark closes in, jaws open wide. Just before it reaches you, a shockwave crashes into its armored side, sending it flying through the water.
"Thirty seconds."
Skye appears in front of you, holding a repulsion cannon. The Boneshark shakes itself off from where it grazed the trunk of a mushroom tree and flings itself back towards its target.
"Can't I leave you alone for five minutes without you getting into trouble?" she quips.
"Skye!" you yell, pointing at the fast-approaching predator.
The experienced diver fires off another shockwave, and immediately follows it up with another. The Shark slams into a nearby Tree Mushroom, and the second blast drives it through the rock-hard coral.
Skye calmly pushes you out of the way to avoid the falling treetop. A ways below, the Boneshark shrieks and takes off in the other direction, trailing a cloud of coral debris as it flees.
"Oxygen."
Skye detaches the breathing apparatus from her mask and plugs it into the back of your air tank.
"Thank you, Skye. You're welcome, Stalker Bait," she pantomimes. Reattaching her air line, she says, "C'mon, let's get you back in your Seamoth."
Once you are safe and sound inside your black and blue submersible, Skye perches herself on its nose, directing you to where she left her Seamoth.
"Hey, chop chop," she says when you don't follow her pointed finger right away. "I'm going to run out of air too, eventually. Let's go."
You find the familiar craft resting on a large tree branch a couple dozen meters away. She gets in, and she makes it look so easy. She makes everything look so easy. Then again, she's had months to practice. Months of nothing but practice, necessitated by her own survival.
"How many spaces have you got left?"
You check. "Two."
"Cool. You got any food on you? I'm starving. If not, I'll just catch a Peeper and eat it raw." She doesn't like the thermoblade's power-durability trade off, plus it doesn't cook wild fish nearly as efficiently as it does in the game.
"I've got a lantern fruit," you offer.
It's a small gesture, but one that Skye lets you know is optional and appreciated. She fills the six empty spaces in your inventory and then leads the way through the mushroom forest, stopping to collect the few remaining mineral deposits on the way.
During the return trip, you come across a lone Reefback Leviathan. Glowing green infection litters its body, and it appears to be having trouble staying upright.
"We've gotta get that cure," Skye murmurs.