White Crystal Butterflies | Wattys 2021 Shortlist | ✔

Chapter Thirty-Two

No reaction is faster than reflex. In a heartbeat, I'm up to my armpits in swamp muck, held up by one ice axe sunk deep in a nearby hummock. Thank god I'm not wearing my backpack. It takes more strength than I thought I still had to drag myself back to firm ground, kicking off the cords of what feel like roots around my ankles. Then I'm free, the world around me spinning from my oxygen-deprived headache. I struggle upright. When I regain control of my hands, I unclip my other ice axe from my harness and sink them both into the peat, crouched over them like a wet cat. The hummock shudders.

"Yeah, you just try to sink me, you oversized excuse for a mud puddle," I growl, panting. Even if it takes me down again, I'm still tied fast to a rope whose other end is secured back up where Liu is. I wipe my headlamp and goggles on one sleeve to clear the mud splatters, and look around for Krüger. He's found a hummock near him, too. Right now he's lying on it facedown, head on his arms and one leg still twisted behind him, stuck in the mud. Mahaha must be holding him.

"Tobias!"

He doesn't respond. Unless he managed to keep his day pack when he fell—unlikely, given that I don't see it on him—he's been down here without food or drinkable water for some thirty-six hours. Not to mention the shitty oxygen, and probably little to no sleep. I need to get to him.

"Tobias, tap if you can hear me."

He stirs slightly, then manages to free one arm and tap the peat. Good, still conscious. Something flutters at the bottom of my vision, and I look down to find several brown butterflies perched on my arms. I drop my elbows sharply. They flutter off, but hover beside me, waiting to land again.

"Stay there," I say, to Krüger again. "I'll try to get to you."

The ground trembles again the moment I shift my stance, sitting back on my heels. I engage my headset. "Lingmei?"

"Up here." Her voice trembles.

I look up. Her headlamp flickers like a star through the fog, which has gotten thicker since the ground started moving. Wisps of steam form sluggishly over the mud and peel off to join the heavy air. The swamp itself is room temperature, bordering on lukewarm—so much decomposition generates a not-insignificant amount of heat when there's nothing to take it away.

"Do you have the defroster with you?" I say.

"Yeah."

"Good. Listen, I need you to do something for me. Can you see the little patch I chipped out near the end of the tunnel there?"

"M-hm."

"Take the heat to that, so the water gathers. Then when I say so, I need you to sweep that water down into this cave."

Through the microphone, I hear her pull herself up to the rough patch and flick on the defroster. "Ready," she says after another minute.

"Perfect. Now, sweep it."

She does, at the same time that I pat the ground beneath me. The water patters down into the muck where I first landed.

The still-trembling ground pauses.

"Did it work?" asks Liu, like she's already guessed what I'm testing. I trained stray dogs this way back on earth. If I can get Mahaha to associate the pats with letting me move and getting the water it really does seem to love, I can buy my way across the swamp. I have to spare a huff of laughter for the absurdity of clicker-training a hostile moon.

I sit up slowly again, then try dropping to one knee, moving my hand, and returning to my initial crouch. The ground stays still. "I think it might have. Get another round ready. Chip up the ice if that speeds things up."