“Farnsworth?” Holden asked. Grandpa signaled yes. Obviously his outburst had taken what extra energy he had. He turned away slowly, the pressure of the water giving everything a sort of regal leisure as he finned back to the cave. “You start up,” Kate said. “I’ll help Grandpa with whatever is left.” “I’ll help.” “There’s no room. For once, being smaller is an advantage.” With that, she finned toward the grotto. Holden wanted to argue, but she was correct. The less time he spent on the bottom, the less his leg would be weakened. He wanted to be as strong as possible before he faced a bureaucrat holding a gun. Grandpa’s heavy breathing came over the com. Whatever he was trying to get was taxing his strength. “Coming in on your left,” she said. Grandpa moved over as far as was safe. Together they worked a small trunk free of the grotto. Most of the surface was covered in corrosion, turning what had once been silver or bronze to a blackish green, pitted and ugly.
