Текст книги "Deep Fathom"

Автор книги: James Rollins

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

15
Pohnpei

August 6, 6:15 A.M.

Pohnpei Island, the Federated States of Micronesia

Karen sat in the spacious cabin of the private Learjet as it taxied across the tarmac of Pohnpei’s airport. Outside, a fine misty rain drizzled down, muting the views of the jungle-draped peaks of the South Pacific island. As the plane turned, the island’s most prominent feature came into view: Sokehs Rock, a towering volcanic plug overlooking Kolonia harbor, nicknamed the “Diamond Head of Micronesia.”

“It’s beautiful,” Miyuki said beside her, leaning closer. Her friend, clearly exhausted, had slept most of the way, only awakening as the plane began to land.

Karen, however, had not been able to sleep. Neither had Jack. She stared across the cabin. He still sat stiff in his seat, barely noticing the passing scenery. Mwahu sat slumped beside him, snoring.

Earlier, after boarding the plane, Jack had spent a few frantic hours trying to discover the fate of his ship. By the time he reached someone in authority who would listen, he was informed that a search helicopter had already been sent out to investigate. So they were forced to wait. Jack had paced up and down the cabin, clenching and unclenching his fists. When the report finally came in, it was not good.

Lit by a burning pool of oil, the debris from the ship had been easy to spot.

After the news, Jack had not spoken a word. He’d crossed to the cabin’s bar, poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey, downed it, and repeated it two more times until Karen coaxed him back to his seat. And there he had sat, just staring, unblinking. At first she had tried to engage him in conversation, but his only response was cold and savage: “I’m going to kill that bastard.” So she returned to her seat, watching the world pass beneath her.

It had been a monotonous journey until they reached their destination. Before landing, the jet circled the island. Pohnpei was roughly thirteen miles across, encircled by a protective ring of coral reefs, creating an island of lagoons and mangrove swamps. Inland, its mountainous interior was all rain forests, streams, waterfalls, and steep cliffs.

Studying the circular island from above, Karen had hoped to spot Pohnpei’s other well-known feature – the seaside ruins of Nan Madol – but the mists had been too thick on the southeast side of the island.

Miyuki settled back in her seat as the jet taxied toward the terminal. She nodded toward Jack. “Is he going to be okay?”

“It’ll take time, I think.” Karen knew Jack bore a lot of guilt. It was etched in the lines on his face and the hollowness in his eyes.

As the plane rolled to a stop, Miyuki unbuckled her seat belt. “Let’s get him moving. Try to get his mind off what happened.”

Karen nodded, though she doubted it would help. Jack’s brooding went beyond simple distraction.

Across the cabin, Mwahu stretched. “We here?”

“Yes,” Karen said, freeing herself from her seat. Jack had still not moved.

Fresh sunlight entered as the aft door cracked open. Karen crossed the cabin as Mwahu and Miyuki moved toward the exit. She sat down and touched Jack’s arm. “Are you all right?”

He remained silent for a few moments, then spoke, his voice numb: “It was all my fault…again. First the Atlantis, now the Fathom.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “I should never have left. If I’d been there, I could’ve defused the bomb.”

“And maybe you would’ve been killed with them. Then this Spangler fellow would have truly won. If what you say is right – that he planted the bomb amidst the wreckage aboard the Gibraltar—then you’re the only one who knows the truth. All hope of exposing him would be lost if you were killed.”

“What does the truth matter? It’s not worth this cost.” Jack finally looked directly at her.

Karen was shocked at the pain in those blue eyes. She had an urge to pull him to her chest, to envelope him, to hold him until the pain went away, but knew any true solace could not come from her. He would have to find his own way past this tragedy. “If you want justice for your friends,” she said softly but firmly, “you’re gonna have to win it. You’re not gonna get it by killing Spangler.”

Rage flickered through his pain. “Then how?”

She faced his anger and matched it. “By exposing the goddamn bastard, Jack. That’s how you’ll win!” She touched his knee. “And I’ll help you. You’re not alone in this, Jack. You have to understand that.”

He closed his eyes, sighed, and after a few moments opened them again. The pain was still there, but it was not all-consuming anymore. She saw a glimmer of the Jack she had met in the Okinawa airport. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “There’s too much at stake. David needs to be brought down, but the only way to do it is to discover the truth about Air Force One. I won’t let him win.”

“We’ll do it together.”

Jack nodded, almost reluctantly.

Karen sensed a critical moment had passed between them…. that the ex-SEAL seldom allowed anyone to share his grief or his guilt.

Turning in his seat, Jack took her hand from his knee and raised it to his lips. The brief touch on her skin sent an electric thrill through her. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Shocked at the sudden intimacy, Karen could not move.

Jack lowered her hand. In his eyes, she saw a twinge of bewilderment, as if the impulsive act had surprised him as much as it had her.

Miyuki called from the doorway with a wave, “We need to go.”

The two stared at each other for a silent moment.

“Let’s go,” Karen finally said. “We have a lot to plan.”

8:23 A.M., Maggie Chouest,Central Pacific

David stood near the stern of the research vessel. Behind him the last of his team’s gear was being loaded into the helicopter. The journey to Pohnpei Island would take seven hours. With Ruzickov’s help, the U.S. embassy on the island had been alerted and expected his arrival.

“Commander Spangler.”

David swung around. He had been so lost in his own plans that he hadn’t heard the approach of the paunchy Mexican leader of the research group. “What is it, Cortez?”

“You asked that I inform you when we were ready to evacuate the water from Neptune base.”

David cleared his throat. “Of course. Are you prepared?”

“Yes, sir. If you’ll join us in the command center, you can oversee the process.”

David gestured the man to lead. Cortez crossed to the ship’s superstructure and wound toward the main monitoring station on the second level. The ex-wardroom was now a jumble of computers, monitors, and other equipment. Four other scientists were crowded into the small room but they made space for David, moving out of his way with nervous glances.

Cortez motioned David to join him before a console of monitors. He tapped two of the screens. “Here we have feeds from the two ROV robots. As you can see, Neptune is ready for the second stage.”

David studied the assembled base. It was a stack of three doughnuts, one atop the other, sitting on a four-legged frame. Power cables and other lines wound from its top shell toward the surface. He watched as one of the robots positioned another of the site’s “lamp poles.” Each illumination pole was six meters, surmounted by a sealed halogen spotlight. Twelve in all, the poles were positioned around the base. The dark seabed had become a well-lit parking lot.

In the bright lights, David watched the Perseus, piloted by Lieutenant Brentley, slowly circle the large sea base. Now assembled, the structure contained almost four thousand square feet of living space.

Cortez sat down at the console. “Watch the three center monitors; I’m going to bring up the inner cameras. One for each level of the complex.”

Murky images appeared on the screens, watery views of dim rooms. Little detail could be discerned. The only light filtered through tiny portholes along the curved walls.

“What am I looking at?” David asked.

Cortez tapped the first monitor. “The lowest level is solely for docking the submersibles. The middle level houses the labs; the top level, living quarters.” He glanced over his shoulder at David. “We chose this arrangement so, in case of emergency, the top level could be freed manually and rise to the surface on its own. There are multiple redundant safety features built throughout the complex.”

David sighed, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Fine. Are you ready to drain the complex or not?”

“Certainly. We’ve triple-checked everything.”

“Then let’s get this done. I’m due to leave within the hour.” Off to the side, David caught the relieved smile pass between the two technicians. It seemed his team’s absence would not be missed.

“We were just awaiting your arrival.” Cortez busied himself at one of the computers. He spoke into a microphone. “ Perseus, this is Topside. Clear for blowout. I repeat, clear for blowout.”

On one of the monitors the torpedo-shaped submersible banked sharply and glided away from the sea base. Lieutenant Brentley’s voice scratched from a set of speakers. “Roger that. Clearing out.”

“Here we go,” Cortez said. He tapped a series of buttons on his keyboard. “Level 1… blowing. Level 2… blowing. Level 3… blowing.”

On the screens the view of the deep-sea station vanished in an explosion of bubbles, the visibility obscured by the roiling waters.

“Look.” Cortez pointed to the center monitors.

The interior views were clearing as the water lines dropped below the level of the camera lenses. Within a few minutes the water drained away, leaving the rooms wet but habitable. Interior lights flickered, then blazed.

“Bringing the pressure down to one atmosphere,” Cortez said. “Checking hull integrity.” He smiled up at David. “Green lights all around, Commander. Neptune is ready for company.”

David clapped the Mexican on the shoulder. As much as he hated to admit it, the man knew his job. “Good work, Cortez.”

“We can take it from here, Commander.” The research leader stood up from his console. “I know you’ve been ordered away for a few days, but there’s no need to worry. My team won’t let you down.”

“It had better not,” David said as he turned to leave, but he could not give his statement much heat. Cortez ran a tight ship.

Leaving the command center, David climbed down to the deck. As soon as he pushed out of the air-conditioned superstructure and into the heat, he was met by his second-in-command.

Rolfe was dressed in a black flight jacket. “We’re loaded and ready, sir,” he said. “Jeffreys just heard from our contacts on Pohnpei. Jack Kirkland and the woman landed an hour ago. They’re under surveillance as we speak.”

“Good.” Everything was going well. First the base, now this. It was as if Kirkland were trying to make his job easier, David thought. To extract the scientist and her crystal from the growing war zone around Okinawa would have been complicated. But out in the backwaters of Micronesia, on an island sympathetic to American concerns, it shouldn’t be a problem. Everything was falling into perfect place.

“Sir, Jeffreys also reports that the woman has been making inquiries about hiring a boat to take them all to some ruins on the southeast side of the island.”

David nodded. Overnight he had studied topographic maps of Pohnpei. He knew the island’s entire terrain by heart. “When are they planning to go out there?”

“Late afternoon.”

David thought a moment and nodded. There should just be enough time. “Get me Jeffreys. I want a boat arranged.” He zipped up his jacket. “We’re going to prepare a little welcome for Mr. Kirkland and his friends.”

4:34 P.M., Pohnpei Island, Madolenihmw Municipality

Jack’s headache still pounded behind his eyes. And the bumpy ride along the jungle road in an old rusted Jeep Cherokee wasn’t helping. Karen sat behind the wheel, squinting through the grimy window for landmarks.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Miyuki asked from the rear seat. A particularly large bump sent the small woman flying for the roof. She swore at Karen in her native language.

“This is the right way,” Mwahu said, also in the backseat. “Bridge to Temwen Island is not far.”

“So you’ve been to Nan Madol before?” Karen asked, trying to glean more information from the man.

“Sacred place. I visit with father three times.”

Karen glanced at Jack, as if to stress the coincidence.

Jack rubbed his temples, trying to grind away the headache. After landing, he had finally slept a bit, but the pain of the last twenty-four hours could not be alleviated with a nap.

While he’d slept, Karen had hired a car and arranged for a boat to explore the ruins of Nan Madol. Because the best time to explore was at high tide, they were leaving late in the day, when boats could traverse the meter-deep canals. Otherwise, at low tide, it meant slogging through the ruins in knee-deep water and mud.

Clearing his throat, Jack sought some way to distract himself from the pounding in his skull. “Karen, you never did tell me the full story of Nan Madol. What’s so special about this place?”

“There are many stories and myths surrounding this island,” she replied, “but the story of Nan Madol’s origin is the most intriguing. According to the myth, two demigods, Olhosihpa and Olhosohpa, came to the island in a great ship from some lost land. With magical powers they transported the gigantic basalt logs across the island and helped the natives build the canal city. Some say the stone logs flew through the air.”

Jack shook his head. “Yeah, right.”

Karen shrugged. “Of course, who knows the truth for sure? But mysteries remain. Some of the stones weigh up to fifty tons. The entire complex of Nan Madol is composed of 250 million tons of crystalline basalt. How did it all get there?”

Jack shrugged. “On large rafts. Bamboo is great building material, and there’s plenty of it on the island.” He nodded to the rain forest out the windows.

Karen shook her head. “Back in 1995, researchers tried to float a one-ton basalt log using every sort of raft imaginable. They failed. The best they could manage was a stone that weighed a couple hundred pounds. So how did these unsophisticated natives move rocks weighing fifty tons? And once at the site, how did they lift and stack them forty feet in the air?”

Jack’s brow crinkled. As much as he hated to admit it, the mystery was intriguing. How hadit been done?

Karen continued, “I have no idea what the real answer is, but I find the myth of the demigods interesting. Another story of a magical people from a lost continent.”

Jack settled back in his seat. “So how old are these ruins?”

“Hmm…that’s another bit of controversy. Nine hundred years is the current estimate, based on carbon dating on fire pits done by the Smithsonian Institute in the sixties. But others have argued for an older date.”

“Why?”

“Carbon-dating of the fire pits only proves that it was occupiedduring this time, not that the place was built then. In the early seventies an archaeologist from Honolulu, using newer techniques, came up with a date over two thousand years old.” Karen shrugged. “So who can say for sure?”

From the backseat Miyuki shifted forward and pointed between them. “Look.”

Karen slowed the Cherokee as raw sunlight appeared ahead. It was the end of the forest road.

“Finally,” Jack murmured.

The view opened before them as they swung out of the forest. A wide bay lay ahead, sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. In the middle of the bay towered a steep mountainous island, fringed by swamps. From the height of the jungle road, a coral reef could be seen in the shallows circling the small island, mottling the blue waters in hues of rose and jade.

Karen pointed. “Nan Madol is on the far side of Temwen Island. Facing the open ocean.”

Turning, she guided the Jeep down the steep grade toward a long, two-lane steel bridge that spanned the strait between coast and island. They descended into shadows as the sun, setting toward the western horizon, disappeared behind the mountainous peaks of Pohnpei. Then they were trundling across the bridge, passing over coral atolls and deep blue waters.

Karen played tour guide. “The harbors around here are fraught with submerged sections of other ruins: columns, walls, stone roads, even a small sunken castle. Back during World War Two, Japanese divers reported discovering caskets made of pure platinum down there.”

“Platinum? Here?”

“Yep. The divers brought up quite a bit of it. Platinum became one of the island’s major exports during the Japanese occupation.”

Jack eyed the water. “Strange.”

“In fact, just recently a large megalithic discovery was made in the deep waters off the east coast of Nahkapw Island.” She pointed to a speck of an island just visible near the southern horizon. “A submerged stone village named Kahnihnw Namkhet. For decades natives told stories about it, but it was only in the last five years that divers rediscovered it.”

With a kidney-jarring bump the Jeep left the bridge and turned onto the coastal road that circled the small island. Karen accelerated. Soon they wound out of the shadows and into the sunlight of the southern coastline.

Ahead and below, the ruins of Nan Madol appeared.

Jack lowered his map, stunned by the sight. Spreading far out into the shallow sea from the coastline were a hundred man-made islets. The buildings and fortifications were all composed of basalt columns and slabs, constructed similar to American-style log cabins. Framing the entire site was a gigantic sea wall, also of basalt.

“Amazing,” he said. “I can see now why the place is called the Venice of the Pacific.” The ancient city spread over ten square miles, with canals intersecting and connecting the entire community. Mangrove trees and ferns grew thickly throughout it. Looking down, the stones of the city sparked in the sunlight, reflecting off the quartz crystals in the basalt.

“It’s been compared to the building of the Great Wall of China,” Karen said. “They built the entire city atop the coral reef, carving deeper channels and canals out of the reef itself. There’s also an extensive tunnel system connecting the various islets. It was lucky the eclipse-day quakes weren’t too bad out here. It would’ve been a great tragedy to lose this historic site.”

Jack stared, struck by its breadth and size. “It’s so large.”

Karen nodded and guided their vehicle down the last few switchbacks toward the city’s edge. “That’s another mystery. Why isit so big? To support such a city would require a populace ten times larger than currently living on the island and a land area thirty times as big.”

“Further evidence of your lost continent?”

“Perhaps.” She turned into a parking lot before the entrance to the ruins, parked under the shade of a large mangrove tree and switched off the engine. Then she turned her attention to Mwahu, in the backseat. “You said before this place was sacred to your people. Before we go further, I want to know why.”

Mwahu stared out the open window, silent for a long time, then spoke slowly, as if it pained him. “It is the last home of our ancient teacher, Horon-ko. He came here to die.”

“When was this? How long ago?”

Mwahu turned to face Karen and Jack. “Long, long ago.”

“But why did he come here?” Karen asked.

“Because his own home was gone.”

“His own home?”

Mwahu again seemed reluctant to answer. His voice became a whisper. “He came from Katua Peidi.”

Karen gasped at his answer.

“What?” Jack said to her, puzzled.

“According to myth,” she explained, “Katua Peidi was the name of the original homeland of the magical brothers who had helped build Nan Madol.”

Jack frowned. “He thinks his teacher was one of these Katuans?”

“So it would seem.” She turned her attention back to the rear seat. “What did Horon-ko teach your ancestors?”

“He teach many things. Mostly he teach us to guard the old places. He tell us where they are. Word pass from father to son. Forbidden to speak. He say none must open the heart of old places.” He stared hard at Karen.

She ignored his accusing eyes and sat pondering. “A secret sect assigned to guard the Pacific’s countless megalithic ruins…by the last survivor of some lost continent.” She swung one more time on Mwahu. “You say Horon-ko died here.”

He nodded.

“Is he buried here?”

He nodded again and turned toward the watery ruins of Nan Madol. “I will take you. But we must leave before night.”

“Why?” Jack asked.

Karen answered instead. “A superstition about the ruins. If someone stays among the ruins overnight, it is said he will die.”

“Great,” Miyuki mumbled from the backseat, eyeing the low sun.

“It’s only myth,” Karen said.

All their eyes swung to Mwahu. The man slowly shook his head.

5:45 P.M., Neptune base, Central Pacific

Ferdinand Cortez rode as passenger aboard the researchers’ two-man submersible, the Argus. The pilot, seated ahead in his own acrylic dome, signaled a thumbs-up as he guided the vessel under the sea base and up into the entry dock on the station’s underside. The docking hatch sealed under them and the seawater was pumped out.

Ferdinand watched the waterline recede down his dome. The whole docking procedure took less than five minutes. He smiled at his success. After his wife died, he’d devoted all his energies to the Neptune project. It had been a goal he and his wife had shared.

A functioning deep-sea research station.

“We did it, Maria,” he whispered to the station. “We finally did it.”

As the central computer calibrated the air pressure in the docking bay, a green light flashed on the wall, indicating it was safe to depart the Argus. Ferdinand unscrewed the dome’s seal using a motorized winch. The seal broke with the barest hiss of pressure differentials. Ferdinand smiled. Perfect.

He pushed back the dome and climbed out of the sub, hauling his bag with him. The pilot remained in his forward dome. He had another four research members to ferry down to the deep-sea station.

Free of the sub, Ferdinand breathed deeply. The air tasted stale, but that couldn’t be helped. No amount of conditioning would freshen it.

Waving a thanks to the pilot, he crossed to the door and unscrewed its three latches. Beyond the door, he found John Conrad wearing a wide shit-eating grin.

“We’re here,” his friend and colleague said. “We’re on the goddamn bottom of the ocean.”

Ferdinand smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Then how about a tour?” he asked – not that he needed one. The Neptune had been based on his own design specs. He knew every inch of the base, every circuit, every switch.

John took his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “C’mon. Everyone’s waiting.” He led the way to the ladder up to the second tier of the station. As John climbed, electronic sensors marked his presence and opened the hatch overhead. It was all automated. Once both men clambered up to Level 2, the hatch self-sealed. Another safety feature. Each of the tiers were sealed from one another unless a crew member was on the ladder. The hatches could also be cranked shut and locked in case of power failure or a system malfunction.

Stepping from the ladder, Ferdinand surveyed his domain. Level 2 contained a circular series of labs: marine biology, geology, climatology, physiology, even archaeology. The base’s tiny hospital ward also shared a wedge of this floor’s space. The tier above this, Level 3, housed the living quarters, galley, tiny recreation room, and unisex bathroom.

Ferdinand could not wipe the smile from his face. The Neptune was finally up and functioning. As he passed through the labs, other scientists called to him, congratulating him. He acknowledged the well-wishes and continued to his own wedge: the geophysics laboratory.

John accompanied him. “Can’t stop working, can you?”

“How can I? Especially with that pissant Spangler gone. He’s been hobbling my work ever since we first arrived here. This may be my only chance to be free of the asshole, and I’m going to take advantage of it.”

Ferdinand settled onto a fixed stool before a smooth metal console. He hit a button, and like a rolltop desk, the airtight seals on his station wheeled open to reveal a bank of computers, monitors, and tools. “Is the Perseusover by the crystal pillar?” he asked.

“Yep. Lieutenant Brentley has been waiting for an hour, and he’s growing a bit impatient. We had to argue against him collecting your sample on his own.”

“Good, good…I should oversee the sampling. We can’t risk damage to the pillar.”

“Brentley’s audio is on Channel 4. Video feed on Channel 3.”

Ferdinand called up the proper channels on his central monitor. “ Perseus, this is Neptune. Do you read?”

Lieutenant Brentley answered. “Aye, Neptune, read you loud and clear. Just cooling my thrusters.”

Ferdinand adjusted the monitor to pick up the video feed from the Deep Submergence Unit’s sub. He was surprised at the clarity of the image. The sub faced the crystal pillar from a distance of ten yards away. Its faceted surface filled the screen. Across its smooth planes the silver etchings were plainly evident. “Have you recorded the entire pillar?”

“Aye, completed and recorded. Just waiting to collect the sample.”

Ferdinand heard the exasperation in the man’s voice. “I appreciate your patience, Lieutenant. We’re ready to proceed. Try to collect a sample without marring any of the writing.”

“Aye, sir. I’ve studied the pillar. There’s no writing near the top. Should I attempt a sampling there?”

“Yes. Very good.”

On the screen, Ferdinand watched the Perseuscircle the forty-meter length of crystal, climbing toward its apex. Once there, the image focused on the faceted top of the obelisk. “I’ll try to nip a bit off the very tip.” The pilot’s voice crackled with static as the vessel edged toward the pillar.

“Be careful.”

As they watched, the video feed began to flicker with static, too. The sub floated toward the pillar, slower and slower. It was almost as if the video feed were playing in slow motion. As the sub neared its goal, a titanium arm reached cautiously outward.

“Careful,” Ferdinand warned. “We don’t know how fragile that thing is.”

A few jumbled words answered, frosted with static: “…odd…trembling…can’t hear…”

John touched Ferdinand’s shoulder. “The crystal’s emissions must be messing with the sub’s communications. Remember the reports from the salvage ship’s sub.”

Ferdinand nodded, worrying that perhaps he should’ve waited until Spangler had returned. If the Navy’s sub were damaged…

The titanium claw reached for the pillar, intending to pinch the tip off the crystal. It was agonizingly slow.

“The first deep-sea circumcision,” John mumbled.

Ferdinand ignored his friend’s attempt at humor and held his breath.

The pincer closed on the faceted point. Brentley’s voice suddenly came through the speakers, crystal clear again. “I think I’ve—”

The video image froze. Both John and Ferdinand glanced in puzzlement at each other. Frowning, Ferdinand tapped the screen. For a brief moment he thought he saw the submersible vanish then flicker back.

Abruptly, the video image resumed. “—got it!” Brentley finished. On the screen, the sub retreated from the pillar, its titanium arm held up high, a chunk of crystal in its grip.

“He did it!” Ferdinand said.

“To hell with the glitches!” John blurted out happily.

A cheer arose from the crew – but broke off as a fierce rattling began to shake through the base.

A wary hush descended. Ferdinand held his breath.

The rattling grew into a savage shaking. Doors rattled. Shelved containers tumbled.

“Sea quake!” John yelled.

Cries rose from the various science stations. The video connection to the Perseusdisappeared as the monitor’s screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.

John stumbled to one of the porthole windows. “If any of the seals break—”

Ferdinand knew the threat. At a depth of six hundred meters, the pressures outside were close to half a ton per square inch. Any rupture would lead to immediate implosion.

Emergency klaxons bellowed; red warning lights flared.

Ferdinand yelled in a firm tone of command. “Retreat to Level 3! Prepare to evacuate!”

One of the marine biologists ran toward them, almost colliding with John. “The interlevel hatches have sealed themselves. I can’t override on manual.”

Ferdinand swore. In case of flooding, the safety systems automatically locked down and isolated each tier – but the manual override should have worked. He stood up on the bucking floor as the main lights flickered out. Everything became red-tinged in the glow of the emergency lights.

“Oh, God!” John said. His face was still pressed to the porthole.

Ferdinand stumbled to a neighboring port. “What is it?” It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing. The neighboring forest of lava pillars shook and vibrated as if a mighty wind were blowing through it. Distantly, bright fiery glows marked opening magma fissures. But neither sight was what had triggered John’s outburst.

In the direction of the pillar, a jagged crack split the seabed floor. As Ferdinand watched, the rift widened, and in vicious zigzags it raced toward the Neptune.

“No…”

There was no time to evacuate.

Other scientists took up positions at other portholes. A heavy silence settled. From somewhere across the way, a whispered prayer began to echo.

Ferdinand could do nothing as his lifelong dream was about to end. His fate was in the hands of God. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cold glass. How many had he killed down here? As fear and guilt clutched him, it took him a moment to realize the rumbling roar had begun to recede. The temblors underfoot calmed.

Ferdinand lifted his face.

John was staring back at him, wearing a frightened smile. “Is…is it over?”

Ferdinand glanced out the porthole. The jagged fissure had reached within a yard of Neptune’s steel legs.

The quake shook with one last fierce rumble, then died away.

“That was too close,” John said.

Ferdinand nodded.

Over the radio, a squelch of static erupted. “Neptune, this is Perseus. Is everyone okay in there?”

Ferdinand stumbled to the transmitter, relieved that Brentley had safely weathered the quake. “All clear, Perseus. Just shaken up.”

“Glad to hear it! I’ll pass the news topside.”

“Thank you, Perseus.”

Ferdinand slumped in his seat. He turned to John. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again.”