But I am not superhuman. I knew that if one of those tentacled swamp things got its grip on me now, underwater, I would be face-to-face with death. My laser pistol would work underwater, but only at very short ranges. The water absorbed laser energy very quickly.
I wished that we had oxygen tanks with us, so that I could remain submerged indefinitely. But we did not. Oxygen tanks were not among the equipment we had carried to the planet with us. I wished that the flight pack could push me through the water faster, but I dared not drain its power pack too quickly. So I had to be content with allowing the current to carry me along, saving the flight pack for when my muscle power alone would not be enough to propel me where I wanted to go.
When I broke to the surface, I saw that I was already past the curve of the shoreline. The sun was high overhead, the swells of the ocean driving up onto the long white beach, where the waves broke and boomed relentlessly. I swam out beyond the surf, using the flight pack to help me against the tide, and then struck out parallel to the beach, heading for the Skorpis base.
The salt water was beautifully clear and lit by the afternoon sun. I could see brightly colored fish by the hundreds sparkling and dashing about. A sleek, deadly-looking hunter slid through the water farther out; it paid no attention to me and I did nothing to change its attitude. None of those tentacled things from the swamps, thank fortune. I had no desire to get tangled with one of those again.
When I came up for a gulp of air again, I saw that I had made precious little progress toward the Skorpis base. Must be a current running against me, I thought. Or perhaps the tide is moving slantwise with respect to the beach. Reluctantly I notched my flight pack to a slightly higher power and dived beneath the waves again.
In the distance, through the crystal water, I saw what at first I thought was a reef. Fish swarmed all around it, a glittering moving rainbow of coruscating colors and flashing movement. As I came closer, though, I realized that it was not a natural formation but a set of structures built underwater and crusted over with coral and seaweed and a thousand other forms of shellfish and underwater plants.
I popped to the surface again to get my bearings. The ruins of the ancient city lay up above the beach. These underwater structures were part of that city, I guessed. Probably there were tunnels connecting the two. I tucked that possibility into my memory; it might be useful later.
I swam to the coral-encrusted structures. There were long arms reaching from the shore out to sea a kilometer or more, buttressed by stout pillars and cross-bracing. Whoever had built the city had built these structures, too. But why? I could discern no reason for them, no hint of their purpose.
Predators lurked there. As I glided along the structures, looking for something that might be an entrance, I saw a flicker of movement. A brightly colored fish suddenly disappeared in an eyeblink-fast snap of jaws. Looking closer, I saw a long gray eel-like thing hovering by one of the girders, its head filled with glinting teeth and a pair of beady eyes. Stretched along the girder, it was almost invisible until it moved. I reached for the combat knife strapped to my thigh. Its presence gave me some comfort.
I spent some time examining the ancient structures. If there were any hatches or air locks in them, they had long since been cemented over by coral and barnacles and other sea life. It was bitterly ironic. The intelligent beings who had built this underwater complex had long since vanished, probably self-destructed in a genocidal war. Now their magnificent structures served as homes for fish and crustaceans and seaweed and the lowliest forms of life on the planet.
Then I saw something big prowling through the water. Something with arms and legs.
Like the snapping eel, I froze in place beside a crusted buttress, hanging in the water with my feet dangling, holding my breath. By being still I could be almost invisible. Or so I hoped.