Chapter 17 — The Cable Splicer Beneath the Sea

What Duy Didn't Have Time to Say

Sơn placed the tip of the hydraulic pry bar into the small gap between the stone slab and the stone floor below, moving slowly, feeling every millimeter of contact through the thick layer of gloves. Bách lay still, trying not to move, only the sound of breathing through the air mixer echoed steadily in the team's headsets.

"Bằng, does this slab have any connection to the slabs above?" Sơn asked, his eyes still not leaving the contact point between the pry bar and the rock. "I need to know if I pry this slab open, are there any other slabs that are at risk of collapsing as well?"

"Reanalyzing all topographic scan data from the first exploration," Bằng replied, his fingers quickly glided across the keyboard, comparing the current image with the stored data. "The slab on the top left appears to be independent, not resting on the slab you are working on. But the slab on the right, about half a meter away, may be bearing some of the weight distributed across it."

"Which means if I pry in the wrong direction, the right slab could lose its support and collapse." Sơn summed up, his voice not wavering even though the information he had just received added another layer of risk to the decision he was about to make.

"That's right." By confirmation.

Sơn closed his eyes for a second, not out of fear, but to visualize the entire structure in his mind, stringing together all the data he had just received into an overall picture before acting, exactly like the lesson he had taught himself over the past three years: do not act based on partial information when you can wait a few more seconds to get more complete information.

"I would pry diagonally, from bottom to top, tilting to the left, avoiding putting pressure on the right slab," he spoke and did it as he spoke, adjusting the angle of the pry bar according to calculation. "Bách, when I start, you will feel the stone shake slightly before it moves. Don't panic, stay still, only pull out the tube as soon as I indicate there is space."

"Clear," Bách replied, his voice tense but much calmer than a few minutes ago, largely thanks to Sơn's presence right next to him.

Sơn began to exert pressure, slowly, gradually increasing, feeling every smallest reaction of the stone slab through the pry bar. This was a moment, he realized, that was identical in physical sensation to what he had experienced three years ago—the same pressure under his hands, the same pounding heartbeat, the same gasp of the trapped person echoing in his ears. But this time, the difference was that he was not alone in this moment.

"Thư, move forward slowly, keep a distance of two meters, prepare a spare tool bag but don't need to give it right away." Sơn ordered, his voice still steady even though his hand was putting all his strength into the pry bar. "I might need an extra hand holding the tube while I keep prying."

"Coming," Thư replied, swimming slowly but surely to the designated position, her eyes carefully observing Sơn's every move to be ready to react at the right time.

The stone slab began to vibrate slightly, just as Sơn had warned. A small stream of sand flaked out from the gap, floating in the light.

"I can feel it." Bách reported, his voice tensing up a bit but still maintaining control.

"Stay the same," Sơn said, increasing his force, feeling the critical point approaching. This was the decisive moment, the moment he made the wrong choice three years ago — not because of lack of courage, but because he tried to handle everything alone, did not have time to call for more support, did not have time to fully evaluate before acting, and then when the rock moved a second time, there was no one and no backup plan fast enough to prevent the consequences.

"Thư, go in, hold the pipe just below the bend, prepare to pull it out as soon as I tell you." Sơn ordered, his voice now shifting to a commanding rhythm of complete concentration.

Thư entered, holding the pipe firmly in the correct position with both hands, feeling the vibration of the stone slab transmitting through her whole body.

"Ready." She reported.

Sơn put all his strength into the last pry. The stone slab moved, slowly but clearly, opening up just enough space.

"Pull now!" Sơn shouted.

Thư yanked the pipe out of the gap just as the stone slab continued to slide down a few more centimeters before stopping, resting on a new balance point without completely collapsing as the risk had been warned about. The pipe was released, without any tears on the protective cover.

"Free umbilical cord!" Bách reported, his voice breaking with a sigh of relief that he couldn't hide. "Air pressure is returning to normal."

On the ship, a brief cheer rang out in the cockpit before Hòa signaled everyone to keep quiet to continue monitoring. Trung stood still, his hands covering his face for a moment, unable to hide his tears mixed with extreme relief.

At the bottom of the sea, Sơn let go of the pry bar, letting it float next to him for a moment, looking at Bách slowly backing out of the rock crevice, safe and intact. He felt a slight shiver run through his body, not because of the cold, but because the emotions that had been pent up for the past few minutes were now finding a way out.

"Are you both okay?" He asked, his voice betraying a hint of trepidation for the first time in the entire incident.

"Fine," Bách replied, swimming closer to Sơn, placing a hand on his shoulder through his diving suit, a simple gesture that contained more than any thank you could express.

"I'm fine too," Thư added, her voice still shaking but mixed with a relief that she couldn't hide.

Sơn looked at both of them, then looked towards the rock crevice where the stone slab that had just moved had now found a new fulcrum, more stable than the old position. He thought of Duy, not with the familiar pain that had been constant for the past three years, but with a different feeling, almost a silent thank you to the person who taught him most of what he knew about this profession, including the last lesson that Duy himself could not say in words before everything happened so quickly: that no one, no matter how good, was allowed to shoulder an entire dangerous situation alone, because it was the loneliness in the decisive moment that was the most dangerous, dangerous thing. than any rock or whirlpool.

"Thank," Sơn spoke softly, not sure if he was talking to Bách, to Thư, or to someone who was no longer here to hear.

"How much time is left on the countdown?" Sơn asked over the comm, his mind now returning to the remaining realities of the dive.

"Twelve minutes past eight," Bằng replied, his voice still filled with emotions from a few minutes ago. "Reinforcement work is unfinished, the last two sandbags of the Thư area and the last shield of the Bách area."

Sơn looked at Bách, quickly assessing his condition through his eyes behind the diving helmet. "Do you still have enough strength to continue, or do you need to go back and rest first?"

"I'm fine," Bách replied, his voice was much more certain than a few minutes ago, even though his body still had the after effects of the recent panic attack. "But this time, working further away from that crevice, I didn't want to try my luck a second time in the same day."

"Agree." Sơn nodded. "I will stay here, providing direct support instead of returning to the diving bell, until the work near the cliff is completed. Thư, you finish the remaining two sandbags, I believe you are strong enough to do it yourself without me standing right next to you."

"I can do it," Thư replied, her voice had regained confidence, even more confident than before the incident, as if what she had just experienced had trained her in something that could not be learned through any book.

The three of them spread out according to their new assignments, continuing to complete unfinished tasks at a more cautious but no less effective pace, each carrying a different version of themselves than when they entered the diving bell less than an hour before.

Forty minutes later, the last barrier was fixed, the last sandbag was in place. Sơn checked the entire system one last time, moving slowly along the reinforced cable, making sure not to miss any weak points.

"The entire area has been reinforced according to the drawings." He reported to the train, his voice carrying a barely concealed relief. "Recommend checking the signal along the entire route one last time before pulling it out."

"The signal is stable, no longer fluctuating like before," Certificate confirmed after a few seconds of checking. "Reinforcement successful."

"Let's go to the diving bell," Sơn said, his voice regained its familiar stability. "The work down here is done. The rest belongs to the whole ship, and to the storm waiting out there."

All three swam back toward the diving bell, behind them, the stone that had just nearly become another tragedy now lay in the darkness, a silent witness to the moment when a decision, made differently three years ago, rewrote a completely different outcome.