The ocean spread infinitely, an indigo chasm engulfing the light above. Deep within the North Sea, saturation diver Daniel Reeves adjusted his helmet, his breathing slow and steady. His team had been engaged for weeks in fixing an undersea pipeline. They were on the brink of completion, just needing one more inspection before surfacing. The task was routine. Until it changed.
A sudden, forceful tremor rattled the seabed. Daniel’s heart raced. Instinctively, he clutched the pipeline, his radio buzzing with frantic voices.
“Reeves, report! ” Captain Harris’s voice came from the diving bell above.
“I’m here! What was that? ”
“Seismic activity,” Harris replied. “You need to ascend—now! ”
Before Daniel could respond, another tremor rocked the structure. He felt himself pulled as the tether linking him to the diving bell snapped tight. He crashed into the pipeline, pain radiating through his ribs. His breathing grew faster. He was still connected—until he wasn’t.
A sudden break.
Weightlessness. Darkness.
Daniel spun, his umbilical cord cut. The thick ocean enveloped him as he floated lost, his helmet light barely piercing the immense void surrounding him. He attempted to right himself, thrashing as his air supply timer blinked ominously. Ten minutes remaining.
Panic surged in his mind, but he resisted it. Years of training taught him that panic led to death. He compelled himself to breathe slowly, conserving the limited oxygen he had. His helmet’s comms crackled once more.
“Reeves, come in! Your tether’s been severed! Where are you? ”
“I’m—” he faltered, glancing around. He spotted the faint, distant glimmer of the diving bell. It was too far away. The currents were pulling him further off course. “I’m untethered… can’t reach you. ”
“Stay where you are, we’re coming for you. ”
“Can’t. The current’s too intense,” Daniel gritted his teeth. He needed to take action. If he drifted any further, they would never locate him. His dive knife was secured to his leg. He grasped it, cutting through the excess tubing that was weighing him down. With lighter movement, he positioned himself, kicking against the water, battling the current.
The minutes counted down. Seven minutes of air.
Then—hope. A shadow emerged in the distance. The pipeline. If he could reach it, perhaps he could stabilize himself. He adjusted his body, propelling himself forward, inch by inch. His muscles burned. His vision faded. But then—his fingers brushed against cold metal. He seized it, his gloves slick upon the surface.
“Reeves! We see you! ” Harris’s voice came through. “Stay there! ”
Daniel inhaled sharply, his chest tightening. Five minutes.
Above him, the faint glimmer of a rescue diver’s torch appeared. Relief flooded over him—until he noticed movement in the shadows. A huge piece of debris, dislodged by the tremor, was tumbling toward him.
No time to think.
Daniel propelled himself away from the pipeline just as the debris crashed where he had been. The impact created a shockwave through the water, slamming him against the seabed. His air supply dwindled to three minutes.
The rescue diver found him, grasping his suit and attaching an extra air supply. Fresh oxygen filled Daniel’s lungs, invigorating and sharp. His body throbbed, but he was still alive.
The ascent felt endless. Each second crawled by as they moved toward the diving bell. When they reached its safety, the hatch closed behind them, and Daniel fell to the ground, gasping. The crew gathered around him, relief visible on their faces.
“You terrified us,” Harris whispered, shaking his head.
Daniel offered a faint smile. “I scared myself even more. ”
The ocean had nearly taken him. But against all odds, he had drawn one last breath—and lived.
