The first thing he became aware of as he slowly surfaced from sleep was the urge to stretch. The second was that he was alone on the med-slab.
He sat up, throwing the blanket off as he desperately scanned the room. Her clothes were missing, except for the neat pile of her armor, her lightsaber resting on top.
The enviro-suit was gone.
The low whoosh of the airlock cycling hit his ears, and he bolted over to the door.
He could see her through the tiny window as the water rushed in to fill the airlock. It was already waist deep, swirling around the enviro-suit's tool belt, and he smashed his fist against the window, knowing she couldn't hear anything over the churning water.
Somehow, she heard. She turned, slowly, her normal grace hampered by the bulky suit. He could see her face behind the tinted faceplate. Her expression was gentle, and in her eyes were mingled sorrow and pity.
"Damn you," he said, his voice rough. "Don't you feel sorry for me - don't you dare," he shouted, and smashed his hand against the glass again. It held, and he splayed his fingers against the glass, his eyes stinging.
Clumsily, she raised one hand and pressed her fingers flat against his, as if she could somehow feel him through the glass, even as the water lapped around the faceplate and then closed over her head, filling the chamber completely. His eyes held hers, pleading, as the outer door opened behind her.
She closed her eyes, briefly, and then turned and walked out into the darkness.
***
Kirre took a deep breath, feeling naked despite the bulky suit. She could feel the pressure of the water all around her, trying to crush her in its cold, impersonal way, and it took her a few moments to make her legs carry her forward.
She kept her head down as she slogged across the ocean floor, trying not to see the expression on his face. He would understand when she got back, she hoped, that she had to do this, had to prove to herself that she could face the darkness and survive.
The ground was relatively flat, and she stayed in the station's shadow as much as she could. It was utterly quiet as she rounded the curve of the dome and the utter darkness of the valley floor opened before her.
She switched on the enviro-suit's light and a beam shot out, illuminating a dozen yards in front of her. The Rift was straight ahead, and a quick glance at her air meter display showed that she didn't have time to waste.
Her spine tingled as she left the safety of the station's shadow. Soon enough it vanished behind her, leaving her alone in the circle of light from her suit.
The darkness pressed inward, and she swallowed, hard, knowing her feelings were irrational, yet unable to ignore them. It was waiting for her out in the darkness, waiting to devour her, and the suit was so damn heavy she could barely move.
It hit her, all at once, a wave of terror that froze her muscles and rooted her feet into place. She suddenly knew that she just couldn't move one step deeper into that unending darkness, even as she realized that she had no choice.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then willed her feet to move. Her foot lifted, mechanically, then came back down again in a single step. Now the other, she thought grimly, and took another step. The suit's light flickered, and the terror choked her again.
Oh, no, not in the dark, please, no, her mind babbled, terrified, and she fought for control. I am a Jedi, she thought fiercely. I will not be defeated by myself. She forced herself to move another step, and then she stumbled in the loose silt.
She hit the ground hard enough to bite her tongue, and for a moment she saw stars. The darkness surged again, battering past her resistance as if it weren't even there, and she sagged to the ground. She hurt, all over, and she was so tired. She just couldn't keep going.
"I'm sorry, Carth," she said softly, the guilt bitter in her throat.
"Don't apologize, get up and move," a familiar voice crackled over the comm, startling her.
"Carth?" she asked incredulously, already heaving herself to her feet.
"I'm not as dumb as I look, sweetheart, and you are in so much trouble," came the curt reply, and she grinned. "But we'll talk about that later." His voice, scratchy over the comm, promised mayhem, and she couldn't help a quick retort.
"Is that a threat or a promise?" she asked archly, taking a deep breath as she looked around at the darkness. It somehow seemed a lot less oppressive, as if the presence that lurked had withdrawn from the sound of his voice.
"Just keep your head up and your feet moving, and get that generator back up," he ordered, and she could do nothing but comply. She could still feel the darkness watching, but it couldn't touch her now.
Stubbornly, she kept moving, following his instructions to keep her head up so that the light would illuminate as far as possible, her eyes searching the darkness for danger. Somehow, knowing she wasn't alone made all the difference.
The gleam of metal caught her eye; the frame of a massive harvester, skeletal in the harsh light of her suit's beam. Several of the rig's struts were twisted and dented, although the cockpit looked relatively unscathed.
"Something out here doesn't like the harvester," she said, and Carth was silent for a long moment.
"If whatever got the last sub was disturbed by that thing," he started, and she finished the thought for him.
"Then if we destroy it, whatever it is might go away?"
She didn't have to see him to see the grim expression on his face or the sharp nod that accompanied his next words.
"Do it," he said flatly, "After you get the generator back up."
A man-sized console lay just beyond the harvester, and behind that, the dome of the generator, built flush against the side of the Rift, rose towards the surface.
"I see the generator," she reported, and forced her leaden feet to move towards the console. The edge of the Rift was perilously close, only a few feet to her left, while a faint path led between the console and the generator.
"Good girl," came back over the comm. "Do your stuff, and let's get you out of there." Was it her imagination, or was there a trace of worry underlying the confidence in his voice?
Her fingers were clumsy in the gloves, built for a much larger person, and it took her a couple of tries to activate the console.
From there it was a simple matter for her to initiate a full reboot, and as her fingers left the keyboard she almost sagged with relief. She risked a quick glance at the time readout. Barely a half hour had passed so far - she had plenty of time. Her eyes flicked over to the air gauge, and she froze.
"The lights just came back on, sweetheart, now blow the rig and get that Jedi backside of yours back in here," Carth's voice crackled over the comm.
She had seven minutes of air left.
***
"Kirre, you have to start now. It's a long way back," Carth said, his knuckles white around the comm's handset.
The lights were back on, and he could hear the security door powering up. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it through the half mile of Selkath-infested tunnels back to the docking bay, but he figured he'd cross that bridge when she was safely back inside.
There was nothing but static for a long moment, and then the comm crackled into life.
"I guess sometimes there's just not enough time," she said softly. Her voice sounded hollow, and he didn't like what he heard in it.
"You can still make it," he started, his voice starting to shake. Screw the harvester, someone else could go back out there later. "It's not that far to the nearest dome." He'd done the calculations - she was smaller than he was, she had a chance, if she just hurried.
"Tell Mission…" she started, then paused, and he could hear the resignation in her voice when she spoke again. "Don't let them grieve for me."
"No, honey, you can't give up, you have to try," he said desperately. "Damnit, Kirre, don't do this-"
"Goodbye, Carth," she said, and the comm went dead.
***
Kirre stood with her back against the console, facing towards the Rift. She could still feel it down there, waiting, but it no longer terrified her.
When she had first turned the suit's light off, the darkness had seemed absolute.
Slowly, however, faint traces of light had filtered in, and, while it was as dark as night, she could make out the shadowy bulk of the generator and the darkness of the Rift below.
She had cried a little while she set the self-destruct timer on the rig, but the tears had dried up quickly. Some part of her was glad she had had the chance to help save him, but mostly she simply felt empty.
She couldn't really believe that she was destined to die here, at the bottom of an alien ocean, while those she loved waited for her to return in vain.
She could still smell his scent on her skin, and it hurt that she wouldn't have the chance to tell him how she really felt - but she couldn't bear to force him to listen to her die, no matter how much it terrified her to die alone.
It seemed to her that she had always been alone, in one way or another, since she had first woken up on the Ender Spire without a memory, without a past. She hid it behind action, but inside she felt hollow.
The suit's recycler was starting to wheeze. She took a deep breath, one of the last, she knew, and stepped off into the Rift.
The bulky suit slowed her descent, and she hit the plateau almost gently. She could feel it waiting for her, somewhere up ahead, and she struck out blindly for it in the dark.
Her breathing sounded harsh and labored in her ears, and she found herself gulping for breath. She was so close she could taste the dark taint of it, and a surge of anger propelled her another half dozen feet.
Dizziness crept up on her, and she stumbled over a rock, her arms wind-milling as she lost her balance. She fell, hard, and her flailing hand connected with something that rang like metal.
A flare of light blinded her as the metal petals of the artifact opened like a flower, the black orb highlighted with gold fire levitating through the water. It hovered for a moment and then rivulets of gold spread across its surface as it shattered into a thousand points of light and then bloomed into the great sphere of a Star Map.
The respirator stopped, the sudden silence almost deafening. Kirre lay where she had fallen, bathed in the radiance of the ancient artifact, the blood pounding in her ears as black spots started to appear before her eyes.
Abruptly, the Star Map winked out, and she was plunged into darkness once more.
It didn't matter; she thought she could see his face in the darkness, and she was glad that his eyes, and not the Star Map, would be the last thing she ever saw.
"Carth…" she whispered, and the dark claimed her.