8 ( revised ).

A/N. I want to thank Alimoo and PatS very very much for pointing out (extremely politely!) that I know absolutely nothing about diving and didn't bother to research it (for the first version of ch.8), which in my opinion is one of the worst writer sins around. So I did… grin. Diving tables, more decompression articles than I ever want to see again. It was fun, to be honest. Here's the result. Uhh.. if I'm dead wrong, it's ok. Someone can let me know… grin. And by the way, I am now convinced that diving is crazier and far far scarier than climbing a 14er, or rappelling a canyon, which of course, are sane things to do.

I know it's possible that a some authors might not like this kind of comment, and makes reviewers kind of nervous to mention, but I'm not one of them. I love to learn new stuff and I am truly appreciative that someone would take the time to write!

So, again, I want to thank Alimoo and PatS. It also turns out that the bends made the next three chapters a WHOLE lot better than the original! Alimoo and PatS rock!

Apologies for the revision to other readers. (It is a WIP… she says, ducking.) I'm immediately posting the next two, so I hope that helps. Thanks for reading!

Sam938

Sam stared at the GPS, checking the coordinates against the landscape once again as the speedboat rushed through the Escalante towards Davis Gulch.

Spray from the boat was fogging up her goggles. She wiped her eyes and motioned to the Colonel to slow it down. She couldn't tell where they were if he kept up their current speed and they might pass the coordinates. And her goggles were drenched, for heavens sakes.

The sky was black, the rain pouring down on them, the desert around them objecting to the deluge, and yet welcoming the downfall. She understood that kind of dichotomy. It was an embarrasment of riches that could be fatal for anyone or thing that didn't recognize the danger.

She glanced up from her GPS to the sides of the canyon. The cliffs were towering ominously above them, nearly 500 feet up of sheer rock on either side. The channel was tight, much tighter than the broad open water of Powell. She looked back down at the GPS and bit down the feeling of claustrophobia. She hated enclosed space; hated it. She hated being enclosed and out of control.

She had to get a grip. She'd been in worse situations than this. And yet… she hunkered down and refused to finish the thought. She swallowed, ignoring the disquiet. She could do this. She just needed to concentrate on the task at hand, to identify the exact location of the emissions.

Yeah, she could do that.

Sure.

She tried to distract herself by concentrating on the geology of the canyon as she scoped it out via the GPS for the target area. She scanned the cliffs, recognizing the layers of sand, limestone and conglomerates from different periods. Thought it through, concentrating her mind on what she was seeing. The rocks were late Traissic and early Jurassic Periods, the Glen Canyon Group. The orange brown at the bottom was Wingate sandstone, formed by ancient sand dune deposits from about 200 million years ago. The one above it – the red orange was the Kayenta Formation. Above that, the tan lightish brown, was Navajo Sandstone, from about 180 million years ago, when the area was a large inland dune field similar to the Sahara.

It was all about time. Time ran through the rocks.

The black vertical lines that ran through the layers were called desert varnish – really, mineral deposits. The rain poured down on it all, making everything more visceral, more dangerous. She couldn't shake the feeling of danger.

She had to get back to the point of the mission. She stared back down at the GPS and away from the cliffs. As she'd told the Colonel earlier, the problem was that she would be able to identify longitude and latitude of the emissions signatures, but not depth.

It was another 500 foot down to the bottom of Davis Gulch. If nothing were visible above the water at the coordinates, they'd have to dive.

There was no question in her mind about that now, looking at the sheer unrelenting stone that surrounded them for 500 feet above and 500 below. They were going to have to dive.

It was going to be cold, and difficult. She tried to shake off the feeling of dread. Both she and the Colonel were trained divers, the Colonel with a wealth of experience, probably from his Black Ops days. Even Daniel and Teal'c were trained. No one was let off world without some experience, especially front line teams, like theirs.

It was going to be OK. They were fit and healthy, essential for deep dives. She knew the diving tables by heart, and bet the Colonel did as well. She knew the NDLs, the no decompression limits, knew maximum bend depths times, knew to add in the calculations of altitude here at nearly 4000 feet above sea level, knew she needed to account for the cold by adding 10 feet to depth when calculating all of the above to realize their safe times in diving.

Cold. Yeah, it was cold.

Even now in her wetsuit, she thought wistfully of the warmth of the houseboat. They'd left Daniel and Teal'c anchored at the mouth of the Escalante, on Powell, not wanting to risk the narrow channel. The speedboat was faster, and the coordinates were thirty miles up canyon by her reckoning.

She'd been hopeful at first that nothing would go FUBAR. The rain had eased up for a while, but that was an hour ago. There'd been a brief break while they started out, but shortly after, the clouds had reformed, and now they were in the rainstorm from hell.

In the desert.

She grimaced as the rain continued to pound down, the sky almost black.

It was so not the most auspicious time to be investigating anything outdoors. Yet here they were.

The Colonel had been right not to bivouac. If he'd had taken her recommendation, they'd have camped at the entrance to Davis on land, hiked in ten clicks in the pouring rain and then had another 10 of rafting before they got to the site. By starting on the lake, rather than on the land, navigation was easier and the speedboat was a safe site if anything went wrong.

She was the one who had insisted on this mission. He hadn't wanted to do it, she knew it at the time, but he had. She felt a slightly warm glow when she thought, yet again, about his comments to T and Daniel when he'd thought she hadn't heard. He'd actually done it for her. That was… pretty amazing. Yeah.

And look at what she'd gotten all of them into; rain, wilderness, and cold. The Colonel seemed to think it was his fault, but it wasn't. She was the one that had insisted. He'd just made the whole thing palatable. She thought about the last missions they'd had and suddenly froze. She'd forgotten about his experience on the sub just a month ago, where he and Teal'c had nearly died. Not forgotten, precisely, but ignored it. He must hate the idea that they had to dive now.

There was nothing she could do to fix it. And she still felt in her gut that something was out there.

She tried to concentrate but now she couldn't see a thing with rain now fogging her goggles.

She wiped them down again. And checked the GPS again. There. There it was. Finally, they were at the location Lee and Harris had identified.

She motioned to the Colonel to pull the boat over.

He turned down the motor and stared at her. "You have got to be kidding me."

"No, sir. I think it's here."

He looked around at the sheer cliffs around them and then back at her, wiping the rain off his face. "So… definitely diving."

"Yes, sir."

He sighed. "Figures. This just keeps getting better and better. See anywhere we can dock this puppy?"

She looked around. He had a point. There was nothing to attach the speedboat to … except….she gestured towards a hanging rock about 500 yards from the site.

"Yeah, sure."

They docked it there, if you could call it docking. No, you couldn't call it docking. He just literally tied the boat to the rock face and then shrugged. She had to agree. It was the best they could do.

She had to say something. "I'm sorry, sir."

He looked at her, startled. "For what?"

"I – well, I can understand if the last thing you'd want to do was dive after your experience with the sub and the Replicators last month. I really didn't expect this."

The Colonel stared at her, stopping his movements and finally commented, mildly, "Actually, I hadn't thought of that before now. Thanks for mentioning it."

She stared at him, not buying the comment. "Sir –"

He shook his head. "It's ok, Carter. And I appreciate the thought." He turned away, getting his tanks set up. "Let's do this."

"Yes, sir." She grabbed her tanks and equipment, strapped them on and then turned on her headlamp and jumped in. She heard the Colonel splash into the water behind her.

She acknowledged his signal to head down after he'd turned on the camera he was carrying to document the site. As they swam to the GPS coordinates, she kept her eyes glued to her equipment, looking for any indication of energy signals.

There was nothing.

The water was dark and foggy. Her headlamp shone on the canyon wall, fish surrounding her as she moved through the schools. When they reached the coordinates, she stopped, staring at the rock wall in front of her. There was nothing here, no purchase, just … nothing. It was a sheer, black wall of rock.

She started diving lower along the wall, searching. Forty feet down, now a hundred, a hundred and thirty.

The Colonel grabbed her hand, gesturing up and then down. She understood what he meant—they were way past a safety zone for diving, if they calculated cold and altitude into the mix; just at the limit if she ignored that.

He put both hands up indicating 10 - the total number of minutes they could spend at this depth for a no decompression dive, and that was even risky. At this depth, if they had to move fast to get back to the surface, they'd die if they came up too fast.

She shook her head, acknowledging the warning, but dove lower.

There.

Only another five feet down. Outside of safe diving parameters, but… something was there.

There was something. It looked like a cave in the side of the cliff. She swam closer.

God, what was that?

She looked to the Colonel as he pulled her back to his side.

Three beings stared back at them from the outside of the cave. They were as tall as she, taller, with some sort of protective covering. She couldn't see faces or hands or legs, just their forms. They were bright, nearly white, standing out in the darkness of the water.

Totally still.

It couldn't possibly be. It couldn't be. It couldn't - she shook her head, clearing it.

Of course it couldn't.

She swam closer to the images, swearing she could hear the Colonel yelling at her, even though she couldn't, and inspected the rock wall.

Her hands traced the forms carved into the cliff. Daniel would have a field day with the camera footage when they got back. The images were three anthromorphs, probably carved out of the rock a thousand years ago and then painted. The glow had been her headlamp hitting the paint.

She stopped short. That wasn't possible. The canyon had been flooded over thirty years ago. Any paint would have washed away long before.

There was something wrong here, something terribly wrong. She could feel it in her bones. She traced the last anthromorph's image. This one had a hand, carved out of the rock but not painted. It was in darkness. And it was pointed into the cave.

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Jack swore as he watched Carter head into the cave. It wasn't that he disagreed with her, but he'd rather be on first. He didn't like the situation. The weather, the water depth and now weird…stuff were enough to put him on edge. And why hadn't he made sure they had underwater communication devices? Well, that was easy. He didn't think they'd find anything. He damned himself for an idiot, because there was something here. Something dangerous. The place was just… wrong. He could feel it.

Nine minutes. They had nine more minutes and then they had to go. And even that was dangerous, past safety recs. On alert, he followed her in at the ready and scoped the area with his headlamp.

He stared at the back of the cave.

There was a perfectly preserved cliff dwelling against the wall. It was two stories high, completely intact with a T shaped door. Carter gestured and began scanning the back wall for energy signatures. She shook her head in the negative when he grabbed her arm, questioning.

He motioned toward the dwelling and then moved towards the door, Carter following, and scanned the interior with his headlight. It was completely empty. They swam back out and he started examining the structure.

Then he saw them. There were patterns on the back wall next to the structure, not white, or glowing like the beings outside of the cave's entrance. They were just carvings in the rock. He swam over to them, staring at the design.

Carter suddenly grabbed his hand, shaking her head and pointing at the equipment in her hands.

He didn't need the warning.

The wall began to vibrate as a green light, luminous, glowing, covered the cave all around them. The water swirled calmly as the back wall began to melt.

The light coalesced into a figure. It beckoned, smiling, its hand moving toward him.

He was being dragged forward. He tried to pull back, but he was caught. Something was drawing him toward the wall.

Then it saw Carter and all hell broke loose.

Huge chunks of sandstone crashed down, landing around her. The water, calm moments before, now swirled around her viciously, the current crushing her against the side of the cave. The green light focused on her, spotlighting her against the darkness.

The figure, once beckoning him, was now angry, forcing him away, shoving him out of the cave.

He had to stop it.

He had to get to her.

The water was suddenly freezing. He could feel its chill even through the wetsuit. The current threw him back to the mouth of the cave, nearly taking him out of it. He crashed against the sidewall and then slid, inching along slowly, fighting the current to get to Carter.

All he could think of was that he had to get to her. He could see that she was having trouble breathing. Her tanks were crushed, probably useless. He was afraid she'd broken ribs, or worse, when the current had smashed her against the side of the cave.

She was fighting, trying to move toward him and away from the back of the cave, but the pressure was too strong.

He made a final surge in the water, pushing through the darkness. He unhooked the harness that strapped her tanks to her back and pulled her with him toward the mouth of the cave.

They had to get out, up and out of this death trap. It was 135 feet up and she had no air. He grabbed her, holding her to him, and pushed up as hard as he could through the water. He couldn't stop to give her air yet. He had to get them away from the cave or they'd both die.

He stared at his equipment, stopping 70 feet above the cave, and gave her his respirator. They had to stop now or die of the bends. He stared down through the water below at the cave's entrance, still lit by an eerie green glow.

Nothing was following.

He swore. He should have checked earlier if they were being followed. He'd pushed the ascent, ascending 65 feet in a minute. For safety, it should have been two.

He watched as she breathed in air and checked the time again, trying to focus on anything else except holding his breath while she breathed in necessary oxygen. They'd been at the maximum bend depth in the cave for eight minutes, just inside the window of ten. So, okay, that was good.

But… god, they'd broken nearly all the recs for safety; diving too low given the altitude and cold, staying too long, ascending too fast on only one set of tanks. She'd had no air for minutes while they got out. And then there was the attack. Violent movement was the kiss of death at 135 feet under water.

Carter seemed to know what he was thinking. He could see it in her eyes, the apology and the worry. He shook his head, but she put her hand on his mouth and handed him the respirator.

He grimaced. It made sense. He needed to take them up as she had been compromised, and for that he needed air regularly. They each had to hold their breath for moments and then breathe in what air there was in his tanks independently to stay alive. And move slowly up to surface, or die from the bends.

They shared the respirator.

After what seemed like a lifetime, but was only two minutes, they ascended another ten feet to the next required stationary stop.

Jack counted down the rest, remembering his diving training instinctively from two decades before. Ten more feet up, another minute of rest, then another ten, and another minute. And on, exchanging the respirator as often as possible. At twenty feet, he held them still for two minutes and at fifteen for four.

It would have to do. Ascending quickly from deep diving was damned dangerous, but he could feel hypothermia setting in. They'd never make it to the speedboat if they didn't move. And this was… freezing cold.

They made the surface. The sky was black, the rain pouring down on them.

She came up spluttering. He put his mouthpiece back in hers, watching as she took great gulps of air as he held them steady in the water.

"Oh my god…What *was* that?"

"Don't. Not now. Breathe."

He'd calculated it on the way up. She'd been without air for two minutes before they got out of the cave. And they'd had to share air his oxygen. He knew that her chances of avoiding decompression sickness were higher if she continued to remain on their final decompression gas, the gas in his tanks.

He didn't give a damn about his own danger. This was Carter. She was too important.

She nodded, gulping air. It was possibly the best thing he'd ever seen.

"It's alright. We made it out." His arms held her tightly, one rubbing against her back, helping her breathe. "We need to get back to the boat. Can you move?"

She shook her head, nodding, and took another breath.

He stared at her and then up at the sky. The rain was still pouring buckets, the winds picking up again. "Okay, we take it slow, and we do this together."

She didn't say anything, just held onto him, which worried him more than anything else she could have said or done. Carter not arguing was frightening. They slowly made their way back to the speedboat. He hauled them both up, detached the ropes and gunned it, stopping only to remove his gear, so Carter could continue to use the decompression gas. She was lying on the bottom of the boat, freezing. He needed to get them both back to warmth as fast as possible.