Kitabı oku: «At depth»

© Erick Poladov, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0062-7088-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

PROLOGUE

It was a dimly lit room, concealed twenty-five meters beneath the surface. A one-and-a-half-meter layer of monolithic reinforced concrete sealed the bunker on all sides. A man in a gray suit, around forty, entered the room. He stopped before the main table but remained standing, immediately beginning to leaf through the folder he carried. Skipping any introduction, he began to speak in a low voice:

— Please take a seat. You have previously been fully briefed on the nature of the work ahead. Given this, I will not waste my time or yours, so I will get straight to the point. All research expeditions to the most restricted areas of our planet are typically initiated and financed by governmental agencies, and the results of such studies are stored in closed archives under a «classified» designation. This expedition, however, is organized by «Best Technologies.» It was personally initiated by the company’s President, Martin Hogan. Therefore, we must clarify a few points immediately. All finds and discoveries made during this expedition are the exclusive property of the company. The expedition is strictly confidential. Under no circumstances must it be disclosed to any third parties. Furthermore, none of you has the right to publicize your discoveries or disclose any data, directly or indirectly, related to the expedition. Only the company is authorized to publish information about specific discoveries and findings, and in doing so, will credit the individuals responsible. We determined your route in advance, based on data concerning map coordinates where strange and little-studied events have taken place. Should any valuable finds be discovered during the expedition, minor deviations from the course are permitted, followed by a return to the original trajectory. From the start to the completion of the entire expedition, you will be subordinate to the ship’s captain. All personnel must act in accordance with his instructions. Any of his orders must be executed without discussion. This is essential both for the successful completion of the mission and for ensuring the safety of all crew members. Questions?

Only silence followed.

— Very well, that concludes the briefing. A helicopter is waiting upstairs to take you to Heathrow, from where you will proceed to your destination. You will receive further instructions upon arrival on the island directly from the submarine commander. — Closing the folder, the man in the suit added: — I wish you all a successful expedition.

1. LUTHER DE BONT

He descended the gangway onto the pier, awaiting the passengers’ arrival. A few hours ago, his jacket’s breast pocket had held a packet containing the last two sticks of chewing gum. Quitting cigarettes had been tough, but now, after two months of abstinence, the old craving surfaced less often, and the urge to light up felt weaker. He knew that if he could hold out just a little longer, the nicotine addiction would finally burn itself out. Not even a career in the Navy had managed to break his reliance on the poison. Yet now, just as he was starting to overcome the damaging habit, the absence of gum in his pocket meant thoughts of a cigarette were monopolizing his mind with increasing intensity.

A man dressed to the nines appeared on the pier. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with a short haircut. His eyes were shielded by narrow sunglasses with thin, neat frames. He wore an expensive beige suit, his jacket casually draped over his shoulder, held by a hook of his index and middle fingers.

The stranger strode effortlessly along the pier until he was close, then spoke:

— Good morning.

— Morning.

— Mr. De Bont, I presume? — the stranger asked.

— Yes — the Captain replied with a note of suspicion.

The man in the suit extended his hand and introduced himself:

— My name is Stephen Frost. Pleased to meet you. Do you have five minutes?

Captain De Bont checked his watch and said:

— Judging by the fact that the concept of «punctuality» is alien to some people, I suppose I do have some time.

With that, the Captain gestured with his hand, suggesting they continue their conversation while walking along the rest of the pier.

— In that case, I will try to be as brief as possible.

— By the way, do you happen to have any gum on you? — the Captain cut in.

— Just lozenges.

— That’ll do.

Stephen Frost placed five lozenges in rustling wrappers on the Captain’s palm and resumed his thought:

— I represent «Best Technologies».

— Yes, I’ve heard of your firm. You specialize in technical development.

— That’s correct — Frost replied with a slight smile. — Though it’s less about DEVELOPMENT and more about our accumulated RESEARCH. We typically conduct studies, and their results are then used by manufacturers of consumer goods, transportation, and various equipment.

— But you’ve also had a hand in the Ministry of Defense’s technology, haven’t you?

— Yes. The software and internal electronics are our doing. But in recent years, we’ve shifted toward manufacturing. Innovative technology, it turns out, is always in demand, and not even exorbitant prices can halt the overwhelming craze — Frost replied, letting out his snow-white smile once more. He lightly scratched his nose with his index finger, paused, and then continued: — Mr. De Bont, when was the last time you commanded a submarine crew?

— Last year, I had a fixed-term contract with the Ministry of Defense for seven months.

— Where were your postings?

— The Bay of Bengal. The Mediterranean Sea. Antarctica. A bit near the Panama Canal.

— And why did they choose not to renew your contract?

— The commander I was filling in for recovered from his chemotherapy and returned to duty.

— So, is the British Fleet so flawless that it has no need for such an experienced captain with a spotless reputation?

— They simply had no vacancies for a Captain’s post. They offered me the position of Chief Mate, but do I look like a man who would be grateful for a demotion?

Frost shook his head slightly and said:

— Yes, that is an insult.

— But they still didn’t want to let me go and offered me command of a surface vessel. They were just about to commission a new aircraft carrier and wanted to entrust it to a seasoned, yet not elderly, captain so that one person would be permanently assigned to the ship, eliminating the constant need for a change of command. They considered a forty-nine-year-old veteran with submariner experience perfectly suited to run things on that ship.

— So you have experience with surface vessels as well?

— That’s where I started. I only transferred to a submarine as Chief Engineer at thirty-one.

— And you turned them down?

Captain De Bont took a deep breath and said:

— I prefer to be submerged. It’s hard to grasp. And even harder to explain. Consequently, I now find myself skippering some plutocrat’s yacht.

Stephen Frost wiped the sweat between his nose and upper lip, then adopted a slightly different tone:

— Well, I won’t beat around the bush or hold you up unnecessarily. Let’s get down to business. Our company wants to offer you a job. It involves commanding a submarine designed for civilian purposes.

— Someone built a submarine for civilian use?

— Yes, I agree, that sounds slightly odd at first glance.

— And what is its nature?

— Unfortunately, I am not authorized to disclose such information. I can give you only a few parameters. Length: thirty-five meters, displacement: two thousand tons, and… essentially, that’s it.

— Where is the intended voyage?

— That detail is still being finalized. At the moment, all that is known is that it will be in the Atlantic.

— Timeframe? — Luther De Bont asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

— The launch is planned for approximately eight to twelve months from now.

— So the vessel is already in the assembly phase.

— At present, we are at seventy percent completion. As you might gather, given the nature of our company’s operations, this submarine is significantly more advanced than those currently commissioned by any military superpower. But I repeat, the vessel is intended for civilian — specifically, scientific — purposes.

Captain De Bont gazed thoughtfully out at the harbor and asked:

— What is the planned duration of the voyage?

— Between sixty and eighty days. But if the voyage proves successful and the vessel handles well, we would be ready to offer you a permanent working arrangement. I am not pressuring you for a decision. You have more than enough time. And, of course, I understand perfectly well that you will want to see the submarine for yourself before giving an answer.

— My apologies, but that is non-negotiable.

— None taken. This is perfectly understandable. Therefore, our company proposes that you conduct the practical sea trials of the vessel when it is launched. For an agreed-upon fee, naturally.

The Captain ran his fingers across his chin and asked:

— Why did you approach me specifically? Or is there a queue, and I am far from the first on it?

Frost carefully removed his glasses, smiled again, and replied:

— No, Mr. De Bont. There is no queue. If one appears at all, it will be because of you. Since we frequently fulfill government contracts for the Ministry of Defense, our representatives have well-established contacts within the ministry. We requested information on officers who have commanded submarines but are currently unattached to His Majesty’s military service due to circumstances beyond their control. In addition to you, we received recommendations for nine other captains. However, all of them are either near retirement age or lack impressive achievements and valuable skills in their service records. Your service file indicates that you have masterfully perfected the art of underwater maneuvering, that you enjoyed considerable authority among the ranks, and that ninety-eight percent of all ordnance fired throughout your career reached its target. Moreover, any crew placed under your command showed immediate, dramatic improvements in efficiency and organization. As for your psychological testing, you also stood out. You were described as an organized and pragmatic commander, devoid of impulsive tendencies, cool-headed, and able to judiciously prioritize in an emergency. Sustained emotional stability during extended deployments was also noted. But what I liked most was what was listed in the ’flaws’ column: «A severe smoking habit.»

Frost delivered his final words with a chuckle.

— My superiors practically waged war with me over it. I constantly heard that a man capable of organizing an entire crew is incapable of organizing himself.

— Come on. Our company is not the military. Here, you can smoke to your heart’s content.

Captain De Bont, at the mention of cigarettes, more intently manipulated the lozenge in his mouth with his tongue.

F Frost stopped, reaching into his jacket’s inside pocket, and said:

— I’ll leave you my number. Once you decide on the sea trials…

— You have a deal — the Captain cut in. He instantly wanted to blow and pop a bubble, but realized his mouth held a lozenge, not gum.

Frost extended his hand.

— Glad to hear that. — I’ll still leave the number with you, just in case any questions arise. I’ll be available to you twenty-four hours a day.

— Oh, really. That’s rare, even for a customer service hotline.

Frost’s snow-white smile, which shone brightly against his dark complexion, broke out once more. Suddenly he recalled:

— Oh yes, one more thing. Mr. De Bont, do you happen to have a capable Chief Mate in mind?

— Of course. He and I have served together for eleven years — we report aboard together, and we depart together.

— And we can count on him?

— Absolutely.

— Excellent.

After a brief pause, Luther said, an element of doubt in his voice:

— Mr… Frost?

— Yes.

— I haven’t seen the submarine yet, of course, but with parameters like that, two people hardly seem enough to run it.

— You are correct. There will also be an engineer. But don’t concern yourself with that. We will be supplying the engineer.

— And am I correct in assuming this conversation never took place?

— Now I have no doubt I am speaking to a military man. You understand everything correctly. Any further questions?

Captain De Bont shook his head.

Frost shook his hand one last time and unhurriedly walked away. On the way back, he took his phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and raised it to his ear.

Meanwhile, Captain De Bont gazed once more at his employer’s yacht. Suddenly, it repulsed him more than usual. At the mere thought that he would once again have to man the helm of a toy-sized surface vessel today, Luther felt even less inclined to return to the ship. But moments later, he broke into a smile. This might have surprised even Luther himself, but there was nothing strange about it. He simply realized he wouldn’t have long left to skipper this tub. Soon, he would leave it behind.

A few seconds later, Luther de Bont spotted the figure of the yacht’s owner and a provocatively dressed woman, whom the owner was affectionately holding by the fillet, appearing on the pier.

2. HECTOR CAGE

— Doctor Cage! Doctor Cage! — a student called, jogging to catch up with the professor in the corridor after the bell.

— Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Margaret. You’re going to drop everything.

— Sorry, I just wanted to ask you something.

— I’m not running a hundred-meter dash here. There’s no need to rush — the forty-two-year-old professor continued in a mild tone.

Margaret just smiled in response.

— Go on, ask.

— Dr. Cage, I wanted to talk to you about the paper on cetaceans due next week.

— Are you running into some difficulties? — the professor asked, puzzled, as he continued his unhurried walk down the corridor, carrying a leather briefcase.

— Well… I couldn’t really find enough solid data on the Dorudon. Even online, the information mostly boils down to merely mentioning their existence during the Eocene epoch, and the library only has a few encyclopedias that simply define their biological and species classification.

— And why did you choose the Dorudon in the first place?

— I just wanted to write about some kind of monster. You know, a big predator with an unusual look. I liked it in that film you screened.

— I can give you some of my monographs. But they won’t be enough to draw any objective conclusions. My advice is to choose someone else. Say, the Kutchicetus or the Protocetus. They are also Eocene species, but there is slightly more information available about them, and their anatomy is much more interesting.

— In that case, is it alright if I change my topic?

— By all means.

— Thank you.

— Anytime.

— Goodbye, Dr. Cage.

Hector Cage collapsed into the seat of his Ford, exhaling in relief that the work week was finally over. Teaching at the new university had been a struggle. It was his second year, and he still hadn’t managed to secure a spot on a single research expedition to study new and rare fish species. He had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. At his previous workplace, he had been a regular on expeditions to Australia, Thailand, Japan, and Malaysia. Now, his entire job was reduced to endless lectures and listening to the droning, self-congratulatory rubbish from students who couldn’t tell the difference between contemporary fish, let alone the prehistoric creatures that inhabited the Earth during the age of dinosaurs.

To avoid burnout from grinding through the same materials twenty times a week, Hector had been forced to see a private psychoanalyst for a sedative prescription. Otherwise, the incident that had gotten him fired from his last university might repeat itself.

It was already dark outside. The city streets were shrouded in a natural gloom, broken only by the glow of streetlights and car headlights.

Once inside his rented apartment, Hector put water on to boil for a cup of strong tea. With the kettle on, he approached his laptop, tapped the keyboard a few times, and a couple of seconds later, the sounds of «Mamy Blue» filled the room from the stereo system. While waiting for the kettle, Hector Cage leaned back on the sofa, listening to Julio Iglesias’s voice and feeling all the accumulated stress gradually dissipate. This continued until the urge to sleep took over and Hector’s consciousness shut down, plunging him into a deep slumber.

Only in the morning did Hector peel his face from the sofa upholstery, six minutes after realizing exactly where his body was. He managed to get to his feet only after his joints had at least partially woken up, which took a good hour and a half.

Turning off the music, he decided to boil water to make the tea that had never materialized the night before. But at the last minute, the scientist opted for coffee instead.

Hector looked into the mirror and wondered who was staring back. He looked as though he had been subjected to relentless torture, deprived of sleep throughout the entire work week. Bags were already prominent under his eyes, and his hair, rumpled from sleeping without a pillow, only accentuated his «vegetable» state.

The clock was showing twenty minutes to nine when the doorbell rang.

Standing on the threshold was a tall, dark-skinned man in a respectable suit.

— Good morning. Dr. Hector Cage?

— Yes. Hello. Yes. That’s me — Hector replied, stumbling over his words.

— My name is Stephen Frost — the man at the door stated, extending his hand. — Pleased to meet you. I represent «Best Technologies.» Might I take up a few minutes of your time?

With a wave of his hand, the scientist invited the guest into his modest apartment.

— Excuse the mess. I simply don’t have the time with work.

— Please, don’t worry about it. If you saw my place, you’d think yours was sparkling.

— Tea? Coffee?

— Whichever you prefer.

While Hector poured the invigorating instant coffee, Stephen Frost intently surveyed the bookcase, most of its volumes dedicated to river and oceanic fauna. Among them were reference works on the inhabitants of the world’s oceans, organized by geochronological time periods, from the Triassic to the Calymmian. The spine titles clearly indicated the scientist’s particular interest in cetaceans.

Hector set two cups of coffee on the coffee table, invited Frost to take the sofa, and settled himself in the armchair opposite.

— So… — Hector prompted, signaling Frost to get to the point.

— Your library is impressive.

The scientist glanced indifferently at his book collection for the thousandth time and said:

— I’ve spent my entire life on this.

— Do you get to study rare fish species from time to time?

— Well, I used to. That’s what I genuinely loved about the work. Observing species live that few others had ever seen. And, of course, researching them…

— Have you written any textbooks in your field?

— Textbooks? No. A mountain of monographs, but not a single book. It was planned, but the change of jobs got in the way. So, what did you want to discuss?

Stephen Frost leaned slightly toward Cage and began his pitch:

— Mr. Cage, our company is planning an expedition into the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. For this to happen, we require a highly qualified expert in marine fauna…

These words caused a noticeable rush of blood to Hector’s brain. It was like a shot of adrenaline to the heart, which was ready to start beating much harder. Hector seemed to be fully awake at last. It was as if a bomb had exploded near his ear, leaving him momentarily deaf, having lost the ability to hear any sound at all. Instead of sounds, a ringing sensation roared in his ears, and Frost’s lips continued to move silently for a moment.

— …never had to before.

— And what is the goal of the expedition?

— A complex of scientific research combining biology, ichthyology, and paleontology.

After a brief moment of reflection, Hector tried to speak, but Frost cut him off:

— Are you concerned about compensation?

— No, no. What is the planned duration of the work?

— Two months. Maybe slightly longer.

— When do you plan to commence?

— Likely within the next few months. The timeline could range from three to seven months. The current focus is on assembling the team. Right now, we are looking for the ichthyologist.

Dr. Cage stood in absolute silence, his gaze lost somewhere off to the side.

— In any case, we don’t require an immediate answer. You have time to consider the offer.

Hector glanced around his apartment: the scattered books, the countless course and lecture materials he had to grind through a hundred times daily. He pondered what his life had become. Its colors remained as bleak as his rented apartment.

But suddenly, Hector snapped back and decided he should at least feign a degree of doubt.

— May I ask one question?

— Of course. Go ahead — Frost replied, taking a sip from his cup.

— Since you brought up compensation, could you provide some clarity?

— Oh, certainly. For two months of work, you will be paid, let’s just say, enough for you to afford to quit teaching and not think about it for a very, very long time. To be more precise, it will be…

Frost took a notepad and pen from his jacket’s inner pocket, quickly wrote down a figure, and slid the notepad across the table toward his interlocutor.

— But you should understand, Mr. Cage, that this is the sum you will receive regardless of the work’s outcome. — Frost simultaneously began to drink his coffee in large gulps. — We fully recognize that this is largely a matter of luck, and the number of specimens or species discovered is not your direct responsibility. Therefore, the contract will stipulate a fixed salary. The amount you see will be paid irrespective of the expedition’s results. And should any discoveries be made-new species found, then… well, you understand.

Hector Cage actively rubbed his nose, while Frost added:

— I’ll leave you my business card. Take your time. Think everything through properly.

— Forgive me, — Hector interrupted, — Mr…

— Stephen. Just Stephen.

— If this offer had come a couple of years ago, I would have thought a thousand times. But under the current circumstances, this vacancy presents too strong a contrast to my current job to warrant any second thoughts. I accept.

— Glad to hear that. Oh, one more thing I forgot to mention. If rare biological specimens are captured, you will be offered a long-term position. You would either study or oversee the scientific work on those specimens placed at our disposal. And one final detail. How do you feel about extreme depths?

— Excuse me? — Hector Cage asked, bewildered, his brow furrowed.

— The expedition our company is planning will take place near the ocean floor, at a depth of around seven and a half to eight thousand meters.

— And you have the suitable equipment for that?

— In fact, we manufactured that apparatus. It has no analogues. At least, not yet.

Cage grew even more thoughtful, and by this point, Frost had already finished his coffee.

Slowly, a look of focused anticipation began to appear on Hector’s face. After a moment, he said:

— Where do I sign?

Hearing these words, Frost broke into a wide smile. But as soon as the smile faded, he immediately adopted a serious tone:

— Mr. Cage, I have one request for you. More accurately, a condition.

— I’m listening.

— No one must know about my visit, nor about this conversation. Is that possible?

— I see no problem.

— I like that. And finally, so you don’t get bored, I’ll leave you a small gift. Perhaps you can formulate a few new theories.

Frost placed a piece of paper with an image on the coffee table and added:

— Take a look sometime. Thank you for the coffee. It was genuinely delicious, and I didn’t say that out of politeness.

They shook hands, and Hector escorted his guest to the door.

Just before reaching the threshold, Frost turned around and asked:

— Mr. Cage, may I ask one final question?

Hector spread his hands in assent.

— With such a successful career, why were you dismissed from your previous university?

Hector felt a surge of energy. No bad memory could possibly spoil his suddenly elevated enthusiasm now. He straightened his back, shoved his hands into his pockets, and replied in a matter-of-fact tone:

— I knocked out eight teeth from a graduate student who was diving into my wife.

— I respect that — Frost tossed out before leaving.

3. KAYLA FOX

In the crowded, darkened lecture hall, the voice of thirty-five-year-old Kayla Fox, Doctor of Biological Sciences, resonated. She was commenting on the images projected onto the screen:

— Before you is a sample of a human zygote — the result of the fusion of two gametes from opposite sexes. In simpler terms, this is what happens when you forget about contraception.

A synchronized burst of laughter filled the hall.

— In this image, we can observe how the tail of one of the two gametes — the sperm — has already been reabsorbed into the egg cell’s cytoplasm. The nuclei of both gametes begin the fusion process, which, once complete, restores the diploid set of chromosomes. Thus, the genetic material for the future organism is formed within the cell, half of which comes from the egg cell and the other half from the sperm. This is how a diploid cell, possessing a complete set of chromosomes — the carriers of hereditary information — is formed from two haploid cells. What questions do you have regarding this section?

— Miss Fox? — a student’s voice rang out.

— Yes?

— What would happen if multiple sperm penetrated a single egg? How would the nuclei react?

— That’s an excellent question. The truth is, for a sperm to penetrate the egg, simply reaching it isn’t enough. The egg is enveloped by a protective layer that must dissolve before the sperm can enter. And here’s the interesting part. For that layer to dissolve, the egg needs to be surrounded by no fewer than three hundred million sperm, as only in that quantity can they release sufficient amounts of the enzymes hyaluronidase and protease to break down the egg’s coat. Once a sperm does get inside, the layer rapidly hardens and thickens, which prevents any other sperm from penetrating.

From the back row, a female student’s voice was heard:

— Now that’s love. The one and only for life.

Laughter erupted in the room, and the professor couldn’t help but join in.

— Love? What nonsense! — objected a student from the row in front. — She let him into her bungalow and then bolted the door. That, my dear, is called a dictatorial matriarchy.

The laughter intensified, subsiding only when the bell finally rang.

Dr. Kayla Fox assigned the required reading and tasks for the next class, after which the students began to disperse, emptying the lecture hall.

This was her final class. Kayla gathered all her teaching materials into her bag and rushed to the parking lot. Descending the stairs, she found herself pondering the jarring slogan she’d read on one of her student’s T-shirts. The text boldly declared: «CHOCOLATE AND MILK MIX,» with the face of a dark-skinned boy pictured beneath. Then Kayla recalled a joke. It had been told that morning by a radio host announcing a countdown of the most unfunny and ridiculous jokes. He had literally said: «Why should scientists worldwide puzzle over how to revive long-extinct animals? Wouldn’t it be easier to take a more direct route? Take a motherfucker, cross it with an orthodontist, and you get a mastodon.»

Just cross a butcher with an orthodontist, and you get a mastodon.» On her way home, Kayla stopped at a supermarket. Approaching the checkout line, she joined the queue behind a young couple with a three-year-old boy. The child was unremarkable until he dropped his toy car. Kayla took her hands off the shopping cart to pick up the toy. As she handed it back to the boy, her eyes incidentally fell upon the cover of a weekly popular science magazine. This particular issue focused on contemporary genetic disorders and pathologies previously unknown to medicine. Kayla began leafing through it, her eyes quickly scanning the article headlines. When her turn came, Kayla placed all her items on the conveyor belt and continued to inspect the pages while the cashier scanned the barcodes. The magazine detailed the discovery of new genetic diseases. In Melbourne, doctors had encountered an unprecedented case. A fetus had to be surgically removed from a woman at six months gestation. The reason for this intervention was the fact that the fetus exhibited a visible tail. While a vestigial tail is observable in the very early stages of pregnancy, in this case, the tail not only failed to recede but was growing at a faster rate than the fetus itself. What particularly horrified the doctors was that, upon terminating the pregnancy, they had not killed the fetus; after its extraction, certain sounds began to emit from its mouth. There were numerous such articles.

— Will you be purchasing this?

Kayla, without looking up from page fourteen, asked:

— What?

— Will you be buying the magazine? — the cashier repeated.

— Ah, yes — Kayla replied, passing the magazine over to be scanned.

The drive from the supermarket home normally took between eighteen and twenty minutes without traffic. This time, Kayla made it in thirteen.

The first thing she did was unpack the groceries that needed to go into the fridge. Everything else, Kayla deferred, leaving the shopping bags and her work bag in the kitchen. To save time, she decided not to change out of her clothes. Once in her home laboratory, a converted bedroom, Kayla pulled on a pair of medical gloves and immediately began examining new samples from her months-long experiment. She retrieved a chicken egg from the incubator. Before commencing the work, Kayla activated the voice recorder on her phone:

— Analysis of sample number forty-five. Twelve days have passed since fertilization. The egg’s external appearance is healthy. No damage or defects are observed on the shell around the injection site where fertilization occurred. I’m autopsying the egg.

Kayla lightly tapped the shell with a scalpel and poured the contents into a plastic container.

— As in all previous attempts, the yolk and albumen are absent. In their place is the same thin, watery consistency, which is partly yellow, but predominantly dark gray. Specimen found.

Kayla lifted the creature, covered in the viscous fluid of its environment, with tweezers. She transferred it to a wide glass receptacle and continued the audio recording:

— The specimen exhibits a fleshy, pale-pink pigmentation. Its size is approximately four to five centimeters long and up to one centimeter wide. Its morphology differs from most previous attempts. At one end, there is a black protuberance resembling an eye. In the middle of the torso, along the edges, there is a distinct outline of what appears to be underdeveloped, unseparated limbs. A slit, about one and a half centimeters in length, is also visible at the opposite end. The specimen is making slight movements near the black protuberance. Compared to previous attempts, this sample is markedly more similar to a human embryo. The higher incubation temperature may have been a contributing factor.

Kayla secured the moving creature with the tweezers, took the scalpel in her other hand, and announced, her eyes fixed on the twitching limb:

— Commencing dissection.

Dr. Fox performed a longitudinal incision, then used a syringe to draw blood samples, which she immediately placed on a microscope slide. She covered it with a second slide, flattening the droplet. Kayla placed the slides under the microscope and began to examine the contents. At that exact moment, the intercom rang.

Feeling both irritated and impatient, Kayla finally made her way to the hallway after the seventh ring.

— Who is it?

— Good day. Dr. Fox?

— Yes.

— My name is Stephen Frost. I am seeking a broad-spectrum specialist in the field of biology. You were recommended by a mutual acquaintance of ours — Miguel Guimaraes. He mentioned your considerable experience in hydrobiology, molecular biology, and microbiology. In light of this, I have a business proposition for you. Will I be imposing too greatly if I take just a few minutes of your time?

A grimace of frustration appeared on Kayla’s face. She replied, trying her best to feign maximum politeness in her tone:

— No, not at all. Please, come in.

Pressing the button on the intercom panel, Kayla quickly rushed to lock the laboratory door.

Pulling the front door open, she watched from the threshold as a tall man in a business suit and highly polished shoes strode down the courtyard path toward her.

— Hello again — Frost said with a smile.

Kayla Fox nodded in acknowledgment and invited him inside. Before he had taken more than a few steps inside her home, Frost addressed her:

— Miss Fox, I will endeavor not to take up much of your time. I understand you are a busy professional, and I’ve been rushing all day myself. Therefore, with your permission, I will get straight to business.

Kayla suddenly noticed that the man was saying these words without taking his eyes off her hands. Only then did she remember she had not removed her rubber laboratory gloves.

— Ah, you mean these. It’s quite alright.

— So I haven’t interrupted anything important? May we talk?

— Of course — Kayla replied, continuing to enact the performance in her own little theater of small dramas. — Please, have a seat.

Sinking into the soft upholstery of the leather armchair, Frost waited for Kayla to take her seat opposite him across the coffee table.

— I represent «Best Technologies» corporation. Have you heard of us?

— Of course. All the labs at our university were equipped with your centrifuges and microscopes this year.

— Then we can omit that part. — Frost then pulled several printed images from his inner jacket pocket and handed them to Kayla, adding: — Before we begin our discussion, would you do me the favor of taking a look at something?

Kayla took the prints and began examining their content in detail.

— What is your professional opinion? — Frost asked, awaiting her reaction.

The biologist stared at the prints in bewilderment for almost a full minute. She turned the images over, examining them from various angles, and then asked, without taking her eyes off the pictures:

— If I may ask, where were these photographed?

— Several years ago, our company initiated a program for the exploration of deep oceanic zones. A team of specialists developed and lowered an unmanned submersible to the ocean floor. And this is what the vehicle discovered.

The first two photographs showed a specimen of a fish species unknown to modern science. The most striking features were the pointed lateral fins, the absence of eyes, and a translucent purple coloration. The other two pictures showed a strange creature that appeared to be a cross between a crab and a squid. The main body resembled a squid, but instead of tentacles, it had crab-like legs.

— The quality of the prints is not very high. We had to shoot under high-powered floodlights due to the absolute darkness. However, the main details are discernible.

Kayla said, letting out a breath of astonishment:

— Well, it is difficult for me to say anything definitive. Such an external morphology could be the result of adaptation to a highly specific external environment. Organisms are shaped by the environment in which they must survive. So, here we are no longer talking about evolution or prolonged acclimatization to external conditions. Rather, these are simply inherent characteristics of organisms that ensure survival within a particular ecosystem.

Having heard her out, Frost began to outline his proposition:

— Our corporation is planning a scientific research expedition to the abyssal zone of the Atlantic Ocean. To carry this out, we require a team of authoritative scientists. How do you feel about participating in this kind of research?

Frowning, Kayla clarified:

— Did you say the «abyssal zone?»

— Precisely.

— But… how is that possible?

— Miss Fox, high technology is our specialty.

Maintaining her puzzled expression, Dr. Fox spent a moment imagining a journey to such remote corners of the Earth. However, the proposal was difficult to fully grasp at once. She posed another question:

— And how long is this expedition planned to last?

— The voyage will extend for little more than two months.

— Is this a single expedition? Or…

— Considering the immense value of the data we stand to gain, a single expedition could provide you with work for years — perhaps for the rest of your career. As you’ve likely gathered, should we discover any novel organisms, you would be offered permanent collaboration. You will be provided with a state-of-the-art laboratory where you can fully research your findings. — After a brief pause, Frost added: — And this concerns the financial aspect of the offer.

Stephen used a pen to write a specific sum on a notepad, then tore off the sheet and handed it to Kayla Fox.

— This figure excludes the bonus component, which will become available should we successfully discover specific deep-sea organisms.

Kayla’s thoughts turned to her experiment: the time she had invested and the limited results she had achieved. She understood perfectly well that she could dedicate her entire life to this research and ultimately gain nothing. And yet, here was this… She placed the prints and the sheet of figures on the coffee table, crossed her legs, adjusted a strand of her black hair, and finally spoke:

— Well, what can I say? I am a scientist first, and a lecturer second. One cannot subsist on theory alone, and an opportunity like this may not present itself again. Given this circumstance, I don’t see the point in prolonged deliberation. I would tell you I agree right now. But, you know, I need a little time for the reality of the destination to fully sink in. I’ll be frank and tell you immediately that I can hardly imagine any reason why I would want to refuse such an offer, but I still require a short period.

— No, no, Miss Fox. No one is rushing you. Please consider everything carefully. Naturally, decisions of this magnitude are not made in a couple of seconds. This isn’t exactly a trip to a nightclub. So please, take your time. You have it.

Kayla paid little attention to his last words. She understood that nothing was truly holding her back.

— I only have one request for you, Miss Fox, one favor?

— Of course.

— Our conversation must remain strictly confidential. It must not go beyond these walls. Can I rely on your discretion?

Without the slightest tremor in her voice, Kayla replied:

— One hundred percent.

The next day, Kayla dialed the number of a former college classmate who worked overseas at a medical research institute in Austin.

— Hello? — a man’s voice answered the phone.

— Hi Miguel. It’s Kayla. Fox.

— Hi beauty. What’s up?

At the word «beauty,» Kayla involuntarily recalled how, during their first year of college, Miguel Guimaraes had asked her out multiple times, only to meet with failure each time, succeeding only in becoming a close friend, as did most of the guys who had set their sights on her.

— Everything according to script — Kayla replied.

— Still married to your microscope?

— Yeah… The years pass, but your humor never changes.

— My bad. It’s just that for the first time in a whole week I woke up without diarrhea, so my mood is soaring this morning.

— Actually, I said your jokes never change, but I didn’t say I don’t like them.

— Got it. My mistake.

It was noticeable over the phone how cheerful Miguel was.

— Well, since you haven’t lost your sense of humor, perhaps you can answer a question?

— Which one?

— Are you still wearing a size three, or have your twins grown to a four?

— I don’t know. I haven’t complained to gravity yet.

Miguel acknowledged the joke with a loud burst of laughter. Waiting for it to subside, Kayla asked:

— I hope I’m not distracting you from anything?

— Not at all. Don’t worry. There are traffic jams this morning, so I have to hoof it to work. Everything’s good. Tell me more.

— Listen, I’m calling to say thank you for recommending me to Frost.

— Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that! There were dump trucks going by! Could you repeat that?

— I said thank you for giving them a lead on me at «Best Technologies».

— What lead?

— What do you mean, «what lead»? Frost came to see me today. He said you recommended me.

Silence held on the line for several seconds. Then Miguel spoke:

— Brown-eyes, you must be mistaken. I don’t know any Frost.

4. TUCKER HUGHES

With unparalleled bliss, he stepped out of the SUV and headed toward a beachfront bar thirty-five kilometers from the city of La Plata, anticipating rivers of rum and whiskey. The forty-five-year-old paleontologist, Tucker Hughes, had spent nearly a month in Argentina, leading a team of archaeologists. For twenty-three days, they had gently and meticulously excavated the remains of a Megaraptor. Now, he and his colleagues planned to get utterly wasted and relax without restraint.

The bar was situated on the ocean shore, where the magnificent sound of the crashing waves, combined with the moonlight, created an especially favorable atmosphere for bidding farewell to sobriety slowly and with small sips.

Tucker was accompanied by his colleague, Jan Vogel, a junior research fellow in the Department of Paleontology, and Fernando Rivera, a staff member of the Trelew Paleontological Museum. Rivera was the one who had initially reported the possible find and requested government permission to involve highly experienced foreign specialists in the excavation.

No sooner had the team of archaeologists finished extracting the Megaraptor remains than Tucker, Jan, and Fernando immediately and synchronously headed for the coast, still wearing their work clothes, which bore traces of sand.

The waitress took their order for a bottle of rum, a bottle of brandy, and three bottles of beer as an aperitif.

Looking toward the incoming waves, Tucker spoke, maintaining a dreamy expression:

— If I could choose the exact moment my life would end in this world, I would choose this one. What could be better than the sound of the surf in your ears, the moon and starry sky before your eyes, and a glass of premium rum in your hand?

— Agreed — Fernando confirmed. — Even losing one’s virginity pales in comparison.

A shadow fell upon the table from behind them. They turned around, expecting to see the waitress with their order on the tray.

— Gentlemen, good evening.

It was a stranger, dressed in white trousers and a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

— Are you Dr. Tucker Hughes? — the stranger asked.

— Yes, that’s me.

— Stephen Frost. A pleasure — Frost said, extending his hand and shaking Tucker’s. — Mr. Hughes, if you don’t find me too intrusive, may I steal you away for a moment to discuss something privately?

Tucker did not even attempt to conceal his surprise. The stranger spoke crisp English, which strongly suggested he was not from Argentina, nor from this continent at all. The accent was distinctly British. Tucker found it difficult to imagine that someone had flown across an ocean just to speak with him about something. It was even harder for him to fathom the topic of conversation that had prompted the stranger to travel such a distance. He glanced around, searching for the waitress with their order. Not finding her, he rose from the table and, gesturing toward the far end of the bar’s veranda, said:

— Certainly. Let’s go.

Having settled down at a vacant table in the very corner, Frost asked:

— And how is your fossil doing?

— Apparently, it was a large specimen.

— Do you regret that it will remain here?

— Regret it? — Tucker Hughes retorted in an indifferent tone. He answered the question while maintaining an utterly impassive face. — By no means. I’ve been granted permission to work with the remains. I can fly back later and continue working on the skeleton at any time. As for British schoolchildren not being able to see the skeleton of a robust prehistoric monster, I couldn’t care less. In that respect, I am an egoist and a sociopath. That is just how it is.

— I would call that a very pragmatic approach.

— So — Tucker said, urging them to get down to business.

— I represent the «Best Technologies» corporation. Our firm is organizing a scientific research expedition to the floor of the Atlantic Ocean. We are currently assembling a team of scientists, and there is one remaining vacancy: that of a paleontologist. We require an authoritative specialist with extensive experience and expertise in the field.

— You said «to the floor of the ocean», correct? — Tucker asked with some skepticism, narrowing his eyes.

— Absolutely correct.

The waitress approached the table. Tucker cancelled his order. Frost requested a glass of cold mineral water, and then handed the Latina woman with the golden tan a fifty-dollar bill, asking her to bring the drink after he had left the table.

After the young woman departed, Tucker resumed the conversation:

— Of course, I’ve heard a great deal about your breakthrough technologies, so I won’t ask how you intend to navigate such depths. I don’t doubt that at all. But I have significant doubts about something else. Mr. Frost, I don’t want to sound like a skeptic, but I highly doubt that any preserved remains of creatures could be discovered on the ocean floor.

Before Tucker could even finish speaking, Stephen Frost took several printed photographs from the breast pocket of his black shirt, unfolded them, placed them on the table, and said:

— Mr. Hughes, I, too, do not wish to mislead modern science, so I simply suggest you look at something highly intriguing.

Tucker began examining the photographs, which showed the same object captured from different angles and with varying degrees of clarity. For several minutes, he meticulously assessed every detail of the object.

— You know, I would like to say this is a fabrication, but I cannot state the opposite with one hundred percent certainty, because…

— Look at this — Frost interrupted, handing Tucker his phone with a video recording. — It was taken from our unmanned submersible.

Tucker pressed play. Half a minute later, he returned the phone.

— And do you have the coordinates for the location of these remains?

— Of course. The information is too valuable to be disregarded. Have you ever encountered anything similar? — Frost asked.

— During my student years, I was fortunate enough to join an excavation our university was conducting in eastern Algeria. The professor there asked my partner and me to take tools and increase the depth of the pit, as he suspected some Spinosaurus fragments might remain deeper down. The main part of the skeleton had been removed before us, so we only expected to find some fragmented bones. But as we dug, a small section of soil crumbled from the side, and we spotted a protruding bone. We thought it was another fragment of our dinosaur. We kept digging and digging, but the thing turned out to be massive, having nothing at all to do with the Spinosaurus. It was an entire, separate skeleton. I am bound by an oath and have no right to reveal exactly what it was. But I can say one thing: if the information about that discovery were made public, we could safely rewrite all the history textbooks on the Cretaceous period. And to answer your question, I won’t lie. Yes. I have seen a lot of unexplainable phenomena.

— And what can you say about this find? — Frost asked, pointing to the photographs.

— Based on the skeletal structure, it bears a resemblance to a mermaid from this angle. But it’s difficult to tell; half of the skeleton is buried. — Taking a deep breath, Tucker returned to the main subject: — Alright. What exactly does this expedition entail?

— You will submerge into the Atlantic waters and follow a pre-determined route. Your duty is to use the manipulator arm to retrieve all finds whose size permits it. Those that are too large must be meticulously filmed using the drone, their coordinates fixed, and a superficial examination conducted, relying solely on visual contact. In the future, if these finds prove valuable, the company will take measures to lift those remains to the surface. We will entrust their study to the person who discovered them. Regarding the timeline, the voyage will last approximately two months, perhaps an extra week to allow for on-site delays for studying the finds. The total sum due for your services is indicated on the reverse side of the photograph.

Tucker did not look at the reverse side of the photograph but immediately asked:

— When is the departure scheduled?

— The submarine will be launched within a few days. Practical tests will then be conducted for some time, and if the vessel performs according to all stated specifications and everything proceeds as planned, the expedition will commence in three months.

The scientist gazed into the distance toward the ocean and said:

— You know, I could refuse, because there are plenty of remains of prehistoric beasts on land. However, I’ve grown weary of studying dinosaur bones, and besides, who knows, in a place where no human has ever set foot, the chances of finding something truly extraordinary might be far greater.

Having concluded his statement, Tucker Hughes extended his hand to Frost. Frost shook it and said:

— I sincerely look forward to our collaboration. And since you have made your decision, I should add a few things. You will need to arrive at the destination two weeks prior to departure. You will undergo a medical examination to ensure your body is prepared for the dive; you will also be required to undergo instruction on the operation of the submarine, which will be your home for two entire months, in addition to a few other minor procedures. Do you have any remaining questions for me?

— None whatsoever.

— In that case, I will leave you my contact details…

— I’m afraid that would be futile, Mr. Frost. You see, my colleagues and I are about to embark on an alcohol marathon, and by the morning, I won’t be able to find my trousers, let alone a business card.

Stephen Frost spoke in a serious tone:

— I fear, Mr. Hughes, you’ve slightly misunderstood the gravity of the situation. You must remain sober, because no one else must learn about our conversation.

The paleontologist annoyedly lowered his eyelids, and when he raised them, he said:

— Of course.

— Excellent. I was genuinely pleased with our conversation.

With that, Frost rose from his chair.

— Likewise — Tucker replied, languidly shaking Frost’s hand.

The waitress immediately brought the glass of water and handed it to Frost.

Returning to the table with his colleagues, Tucker called the waitress and ordered a non-alcoholic beer.

— I don’t get it — Fernando burst out indignantly.

— Yes, Mr. Hughes — Jan echoed. — We planned to relax.

Taking a deep sigh, Tucker replied:

— Exactly, we planned to relax. I don’t want to over-relax today, only to have my head aching tomorrow morning because of it.

5. STAGING BASE

His name within the company was known only to those who governed it. He consistently wore the same type of clothing: stark suits in dark shades of black or grey. Notably, his shoes, polished to a high shine, always matched the colour of his suit. He was short-haired, clean-shaven, and possessed a low, resonant voice. On his left wrist, he always wore a luxury brand watch, which he rotated, much like his ties — a different one for each day of the week. Everyone addressed him as «Mr. Smith» or simply «Smith.» He had been appointed the expedition’s curator.

He provided the recruiting staff with information about the scientists whose candidacies he considered most suitable for working aboard the submarine. However, his core competency was the ability to obtain, purchase, extort, and steal data from classified archives. It was his success in this area that made the upcoming expedition possible. With the information he managed to gather, the dive into the Atlantic depths would not be a pointless endeavor and, most importantly, would not be conducted blindly, but along a clearly defined route.

The day of departure was drawing near. The crew’s physical training phase was concluding. All medical and preventative procedures were being finalized.

Late that evening, Smith visited the base’s medical laboratory, where the crew members were being examined. He approached Doctor Kate Moore, who had finished reviewing the examination results for the final crew member just hours before. She was slated to accompany the crew as the resident physician. At thirty-eight, Dr. Moore had firmly committed her future to medicine, sacrificing a family she saw no reason to start if it meant disappearing at work for twelve hours a day, or sometimes not leaving the research institute for two or three days running. While working for a subsidiary of «Best Technologies,» Kate was told she would accompany the submarine crew. Management had presented it as a request. However, Kate understood that immediate consent was advisable, as she was not working for a typical pharmaceutical company. Here, the management offered boundless opportunities, but in exchange, personnel were forced to adapt to a local corporate culture that never truly considered staff input — a fact known to all employees. Previously, she had been tasked with monitoring the condition of volunteers taking part in trials for new drugs. The work ahead, she knew, would be much simpler and more tedious.

Kate was focused on the monitor, examining the blood test results, when Smith approached her. Leaning closer, he asked:

— Well, what’s the verdict on their health?

— Essentially, everything is normal. Kayla Fox is only experiencing minor strain with her lungs; they aren’t functioning at full capacity. But it’s not critical. I’ve already given her two injections. In a week, she’ll be as fit as a fiddle.

— Is there anything else to do?

— No. I’m finished.

— Do you remember everything?

— Saturday, twenty hundred thirty-seven hours, Heathrow, Terminal Six.

— Then see you soon — Smith tossed out nonchalantly as he left the laboratory for the psychoanalyst’s office.

— Ah, Mr. Smith — said sixty-five-year-old psychoanalyst Quentin Duff. — You’ve arrived just in time.

— So, — Smith said, as if drawing a preliminary conclusion, — what’s the status of their mental faculties?

— Let’s go through the list.

They both sat down on the sofa positioned against the wall to the right of the entrance. The doctor began sorting through his notes while simultaneously discussing the examination findings:

— Number one. Luther de Bont. Forty-nine years old. We don’t need to dwell on him. I’ll just say I wish I had nerves of steel like his. In the event of any emergency, he will remain cool-headed and act rationally. I can state that with absolute certainty.

Putting aside the captain’s folder, the doctor moved to the next one:

— Number two. Morgan Sinclair. Thirty-seven years old. Senior First Officer. The captain himself sought him out. That he can endure a long time underwater is clear as day — his previous submarine service experience is a factor here. His candidacy is very promising. He possesses well-developed phlegmatism. A prolonged, unchanging environment is unlikely to throw him off balance. Moving on. Number three. Henry Mills. Forty-one years old. Engineer. Your man.

— Yes. Ours — Smith confirmed. — How did he perform?

— How shall I put it? He is intensely interested in working with cutting-edge technology. The time dedicated to practical testing was clearly insufficient for him. He wants more time to observe how the sub will behave. He possesses a trait that slightly borders on obsessive-compulsive disorder. In other words, he likes to check the same thing a thousand times. For example, if he locks the door before bed, he might check ten times in five minutes to ensure it’s secure.

— On the other hand, that’s a plus.

— Agreed. With a man like him, constant oversight of the equipment’s operation will be guaranteed. Next. Number four. Hector Cage. Forty-two years old. Ichthyologist. He is experiencing an inner suppression stemming from professional dissatisfaction. Since changing jobs, he stopped traveling the world to study rare fish species. His new university does not offer him this opportunity. Consequently, he has very high hopes for this expedition and is eagerly awaiting its commencement. If negative energy builds up, he will prefer to keep it contained until someone happens to catch him at a bad moment. However, given that he hasn’t participated in marine fauna research for over two years, his state is perfectly adequate for the dive. He will perform his work with great fervor. So — Quentin Duff sighed, moving on to the next folder: — Number five. Kayla Fox. Thirty-five years old. Biologist. I must say, she has a very unusual combination of traits. Her psychotype is characterized most prominently by scrupulousness and fastidiousness. Yet, curiously, she also exhibits certain melancholic features — specifically, a proclivity for creative pursuits. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s conducting illegal experiments at home, growing some sort of centaur or alien. It’s also worth noting that she possesses a very valuable quality: she can keep secrets. Though, she might also keep secrets that should rightly be shared with her superiors.

— Could she find something at the bottom and conceal it from us? — Smith asked with a doubtful tone.

— Given that she will be working in a severely confined space for a long duration, I don’t think so. Furthermore, she understands that she could potentially gain permanent employment working with unique materials. So, it is highly improbable. Not in this instance.

— Fine. Who is next?

— Sixth. Dr. Moore. I didn’t spend too long interviewing her. After all, we’ve been working together for several months now. I only asked about things I couldn’t inquire about with my colleague. Her general psychological profile is quite transparent. There is only one weakness that might manifest during the voyage: she is unable to be idle for long periods. In other words, if all crew members remain hale and healthy, she will simply have nothing to do, and this, in turn, will negatively impact her morale. Therefore, however strange it may sound, healthy patients on board could become a problem for her.

Any problem is solvable — Smith thought instantly.

Duff continued:

— Ah! Number seven. The most interesting specimen: Tucker Hughes. Forty-five years old. Paleontologist. He’s ready to work like a beast for months. But I guarantee that after finishing his long and productive labor, he will confidently head to the nearest brothel or pub to remember the finer things in life and embrace oblivion. It might also sound strange, but he is fully capable of restraining his natural instincts and base urges. My diagnosis: eligible.

— Excellent — Smith summarized, shaking Duff’s hand.

Maintaining his iron composure, Smith walked with a confident stride to the technical bay. There, he approached the sole staff technician and said:

— Connect me to the port.

— Right away — the engineer replied obediently. After establishing communication via a secured channel, he handed the receiver to Smith.

As soon as someone on the other end answered, the curator spoke only a few phrases:

— This is Smith. There are no changes anticipated. Everything is progressing in strict accordance with the plan. The captain and the first officer must be back at the base by Friday. They will return with the rest of the crew at the scheduled time.

— Acknowledged.

— End communication.

After the brief call, Smith left the technical bay. Finding the first empty room, which turned out to be a storage closet for housekeeping supplies, Smith dialed a number on his cell phone.

— This is Smith.

— Go ahead.

— Everything is proceeding as planned. But there’s something else that needs to be done before the dive.

— I’m listening.

— We need a pathogen.

— Which one specifically?

— A mild, non-lethal strain that is easily detectable and quickly treatable with standard medications. Several strains with varying incubation periods. The resulting pathologies must not be transmissible to others.

— In what format should it be distributed?

— Via food products.

— Deadline?

— Thirty-six hours.

— Understood.

6. «AMPHIBIA XXI»

At seven thirty in the morning, Anguilla’s Clayton Lloyd International Airport received a charter flight from Heathrow. After eleven hours of travel, the seven passengers were met by a thin man of average height, whom Captain De Bont, First Officer Morgan Sinclair, and engineer Henry Mills knew well by sight. They called him Stanley. Whether or not it was his real name, they didn’t dwell on it. They had met Stanley during the practical trials of the submarine. The others were seeing him for the first time. He was dressed like a typical resort town resident: a baseball cap with a curved brim, a loose shirt with colourful patterns, and baggy white trousers. All the clothing was pure cotton. Stanley’s eyes were hidden behind wide sunglasses. While he occasionally took off his baseball cap indoors, even the captain, first officer, and engineer, who had spent three weeks with him during the trials, did not know the color of his eyes.

Stanley helped load the travel bags into the minibus’s luggage compartment. As soon as everyone was seated, he reversed and drove the vehicle to the eastern side of the island, where an eight-seater seaplane was waiting at the dock. Stanley himself took the pilot’s seat. With a smooth motion, he started both engines and began gaining speed, accelerating until the fuselage lifted from the water, after which Stanley turned the plane toward its final destination.

Even before the seaplane began its descent, an object in the middle of the open water caught their eye through the porthole. This surface station was massive, equivalent in size to two football fields. Most of the area was concealed beneath a roof, the center of which featured a retractable section measuring twenty by forty meters. A control center with a radio mast and repeater station stood tall on the opposite side. Another structure, the accommodation block, was visible between them. All three parts were connected by steel above-water bridges, each a meter and a half wide.

A pier ran along three sides of the perimeter. The seaplane stopped near one of these. After mooring the aircraft, Stanley led the crew along the jetty toward the station’s covered section.

The scientists and the medic, arriving here for the first time, looked around with curiosity. Through the glass windows of the control centre, a silhouette could be seen moving inside. Electronic locks were installed on the doors at the entrance to the accommodation block. The bridges connecting the sections also featured checkpoints in the form of barred doors made of high-strength steel. To the side of the doors were biometric locks with palm and retinal scanners, as well as a microphone for voice reading and identification.

Stanley placed his palm on the panel and tilted his head closer to the retinal scanner. After a few seconds, a message appeared on the screen: «Say «Picturesque Bay».

Stanley articulated clearly into the microphone:

— Picturesque Bay.

A signal sounded and the lock disengaged. Walking forward, Stanley held the door open for the crew members. A few metres later, at the entrance to the station’s covered section, he performed the exact same procedure, only this time, instead of «Picturesque Bay,» the system required him to say «Galvanic cell.»

The entire crew was now inside.

Stanley pulled the main switch, and the darkness was instantly replaced by the glare of powerful LED lamps. An imposing surface hangar appeared before their eyes. The floor providing support underfoot occupied only a quarter of the total area, consisting of a heavy-gauge steel deck welded around the hangar’s perimeter, extending ten metres from one edge and seven metres along the adjacent sides. Tools lay everywhere, including a welding machine, wrenches and adjustable spanners, an angle grinder, a power drill, and a grinding machine. Judging by the fact that only one of the many metal cabinets was left open, all these tools had been used for minor tasks, likely conducted to eliminate small defects. A forklift and manipulator arm, which had evidently finished their work long ago, were visible somewhere at the far end of the hangar. Two cargo launches were moored below nearby.

The gaze of all crew members, and especially those arriving for the first time, was fixed upon the object in the centre of the hangar, almost entirely concealed underwater.

«Amphibia XXI» is an ultra-modern submarine, incorporating the latest technology. It is the newest development by «Best Technologies,» embodying the pinnacle of innovative achievements in the company’s history and a new milestone in global progress. It is the world’s only analog submarine capable of withstanding pressure up to eight hundred and fifty atmospheres, which allows it to reach virtually the maximum depths of the Atlantic Ocean. The displacement of the «Amphibia XXI» when fully submerged is two thousand one hundred and fifty tonnes, with a length of thirty-five meters. Equipped with a nuclear reactor and four engines, the «Amphibia XXI» can achieve an underwater speed of up to thirty-five knots and maintain operational autonomy for up to one hundred and ten days. Functioning thanks to its reactor, the submarine has an onboard system for the autonomous generation of oxygen supplies. Due to the well-tuned system of interconnected equipment and centralized access to its controls, the minimum crew size required to maintain and operate the submarine is just three people.

After having brilliantly passed all practical trials under the command of Captain Luther de Bont, the Amphibia sat dormant in the private cove, located eighteen kilometres north of Island Harbour, awaiting the start of its mission. For now, the only visible parts above the water were the top of the conning tower and the entry hatch. The rest of the hull was concealed beneath the water’s surface, leaving the ichthyologist, biologist, paleontologist, and medic to merely guess at the submarine’s true dimensions.

Captain De Bont hit a button on the wall panel, after which a folding gangway began to extend from beneath the floor. The crew members used it to proceed to the center of the hangar. The Captain opened the entry hatch and was the first to descend the ladder, receiving the others and their travel bags as they followed.

Stanley remained above — or perhaps left the hangar. In any case, it no longer mattered. Only the final stage of preparation remained before launch. All crew members had to quickly acclimatize to life on the submarine. While this was standard procedure for Captain De Bont and his First Officer Morgan Sinclair, and engineer Henry Mills had managed to take his first steps, the rest of the crew required some time for familiarization.

— Well, ladies and gentlemen, — Captain De Bont said, taking a deep breath and spreading his arms wide, — allow me to give you a tour. Morgan, Henry, and I have already become somewhat familiar with it, but everything will be new to you at first. Follow me.

The Captain turned elegantly on the spot, beginning the briefing:

— This compartment is called the «Central Command.» This is where we will control our beauty. I confess, when I was first brought here and shown this marvel of engineering, I was, to put it mildly, stunned. On a standard submarine, you need an entire team of specialists just to correct the boat’s position. But here, you can manipulate all systems from a seated position, using just keys and touch panels. Add some combat equipment and torpedoes, and submarines like this would be priceless to any military fleet.

— And why «Amphibia»? — asked the medic, Kate Moore — Can it move across land?

She instantly turned around when she heard Henry’s voice behind her, answering the question:

— Some people believe that the deep ocean floor constitutes an entirely different environment, one that is markedly distinct from the marine environment we know, concealing something new, previously unknown to humanity. There is still water there, but not the kind we are accustomed to. And our Amphibia is heading precisely there.

— So, it turns out you are one of the people who built this boat?

— Something like that. I was the Senior Assistant to the Chief Designer.

— And why wasn’t he taken on the voyage?

— He’s sixty-nine. He’s a bit too old for these kinds of trips.

The Captain, meanwhile, continued to familiarise the scientists with the central compartment, pointing to the chairs in front of the monitors:

— These are your workstations. From these monitors, you will observe what is happening in the ocean outside. Cameras with floodlights are installed throughout the hull, so keep your eyes peeled and try not to miss anything. Please follow me to the next compartment.

Luther de Bont led the crew through a rectangular bulkhead hatch into the adjacent room, where he drew attention to the entrance labelled «Biolaboratory.»

— Miss Fox, this is your domain. This is where you will perform your direct duties. Everything you need is here: a refrigerator, liquid nitrogen containers, microscopes, a vacuum chamber, a centrifuge, various chemical reagents, and instruments. You’ll figure it out, I’m sure. Now, I ask you to come to the next compartment.

This room was equipped with an array of instruments for comprehensive measurements of skeletal parts, scales, tools for cleaning skeletons of dust and foreign matter, and a computer with a database storing information on all living beings on the planet — not only those currently alive, but every species that has ever inhabited it.

— As you’ve already surmised, Mr. Hughes, this workspace is designated for you. But I imagine everything here is familiar to you, isn’t it?

Dr. Tucker Hughes nodded silently, intently surveying the room allocated for his work.

The next compartment belonged to Hector Cage. The difference between his computer and Tucker’s was that his hard drive contained comprehensive information on fauna, both current and extinct, not only from the ocean depths but from aquatic environments anywhere on the planet, including rivers, seas, and lakes. Additionally, along two walls, a huge aquarium, shaped like an L and made of a high-strength glass and plastic composite, was situated, divided into thirty-four sections of varying sizes. A control panel was mounted on the wall. Using it, one could press a single key to open an inlet valve and fill a specific section with ocean water via a system of hoses whose apertures led through the submarine’s hull. Conversely, water could be pumped out of a specific section using a second line connected to the drainage system.

The next compartment housed the infirmary. It was one of the most spacious rooms.

— This is where we’ll come to complain to Dr. Moore about our health. But let’s hope this cruise proceeds without incident and that everyone remains hale and hearty.

After this interim guidance, Captain De Bont pointed out to Dr. Moore the presence of two isolation wards, in case anyone needed to be separated from the rest of the crew to prevent contagion. On the opposite side were cabinets and refrigerators containing medications, medical inventory, materials, and other supplies. The infirmary was also equipped with the most advanced technology, including several microscopes — among them, electron microscopes; pneumatic injectors, X-ray equipment, a transformable surgical table, and an ultrasound machine.

Next, the Captain directed the crew to two cabins, where they immediately placed their bags with personal effects. Each cabin measured three hundred ten by three hundred eighty centimetres. Inside were two sets of bunk beds and two double-door wardrobes with a clothes rail and three shelves.

— Hold on — Kate Moore interjected, pausing the Captain. — There are five men and two women among us, and one cabin is designed for four people. There are only two cabins. Does this mean one of the men will be keeping Miss Fox and me company?

— Don’t worry, Doctor — the Captain quickly assured her. — I have my own quarters. So, you and Dr. Fox will have to miss the male company together.

Vigorously straightening her hair, Kayla added:

— Well, I, for one, wouldn’t object to some male company.

— We’ll have to bear that in mind — First Officer Morgan backed her up.

After a brief moment of laughter, the crew continued their familiarisation with the «Amphibia XXI.»

Opposite the cabins was the galley, equipped with all the necessary cookware, cooking appliances, furniture, and water. Among other things, there was a television inside with an entire collection of films of various genres. Across the wall from the galley was the provision warehouse. A little further on were the laundry room and the head (bathroom), stocked with ample supplies of personal hygiene products.

In case personal items were worn out or damaged, the submarine had a small wardrobe compartment on board with clothes and shoes of various sizes.

Passing a closed door that led to the engine room, Captain De Bont asked them to follow him down a steep ladder. Descending, Dr. Moore realised that in selecting the crew, among other criteria, the employers had most likely enforced strict requirements regarding the absence of excess weight.

A level below, the Captain revealed to the crew a spacious, sixteen-metre-long hangar. Inside was a small pool holding two two-person bathyscaphes, a manipulator arm, and a dredge, all of which were currently secured by restraints between the floor and the wall.

— Captain, how is it that a bathyscaphe was placed on board a submarine capable of diving eight and a half kilometres? — Kayla inquired in bewilderment.

— You see, Miss Fox, we don’t have a full understanding of the locations that await us. We might stumble upon grottoes that could conceal something interesting. The submarine won’t be able to fit in there, but it won’t be an issue for the bathyscaphe.

In addition to the pool, various equipment was arranged nearby for servicing the bathyscaphes, replacing components, and repairs. Upon reaching the bottom, the crew could, if necessary, open a double sliding lock in the hull’s floor and begin working with whatever lay beneath the submarine in the water, where pressure measured hundreds of atmospheres. While the lock was open, maintaining the submarine’s absolute equilibrium was crucially important, as this prevented air leakage from the hangar, subsequent water ingress, and the risk of a powerful surge of water into the vessel. According to safety regulations, a minimum of two people must be in the hangar when the lock is open. Diving in a bathyscaphe was also forbidden to do alone. After the lock closed, the residual water in the pool was pumped out using drainage pumps.

Next, it was Henry’s turn to give the briefing. He explained in detail how to operate the submarine to ensure that conditions here resembled home as closely as possible. First, he pointed out the presence of an intercom in every compartment, even the head. Without waiting for the question, «Why is that necessary?», Henry said it was in case someone forgot to bring clean undergarments into the shower. The engineer also spoke about precautions.

— And I strongly urge you to follow everything exactly as I say. Every little detail. Don’t forget that we are descending to extreme depths. If some kind of unforeseen situation occurs, you won’t be able to freestyle or breaststroke your way to the surface. Kilometres of water will separate us from the air. Therefore, colleagues, please be very attentive. If you are unsure about anything at all, approach the intercom and ask for assistance. Any questions?

Silence was the only reply.

— In that case, welcome to the «Amphibia XXI.» This is your home for the next two months.

7. DIVE

After completing the introductory briefing, the entire crew began to settle into the submarine. They slept, brushed their teeth, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner, showered, did laundry, tested their work equipment, and familiarised themselves with their workstations in the central compartment. They spent three days inside the Amphibia without leaving the sub, which still remained on the surface with the hatch open. In turn, all crew members practiced operating the bathyscaphes, each making four dives. The control of the manipulator arm was assigned to Henry, as its operation was exceptionally complex.

Early in the morning, Captain De Bont took his place in the central compartment and spoke over the radio:

— Base, this is Amphibia. Over.

A crackling sound in the speakers was then replaced by a familiar male voice:

— Base is listening. Over.

It was the man everyone called Stanley.

— Requesting permission to dive. Over.

— Permission granted. Read back. Over.

— Base, read you loud and clear. Commencing dive. End communication.

Having disconnected the communication, the Captain began starting up the equipment and issuing orders to the First Officer:

— Unmoor the vessel. Secure all hatches.

Morgan swiftly detached the mooring lines along the entire perimeter that had been holding the submarine in place, then secured the entry hatch, followed by the one that sealed the opening between the central compartment and the conning tower. Returning to the central compartment, he reported the order executed and took his station at the instrument panel to the Captain’s right.

— Prepare for dive. Open the valves for the bow and stern ballast tanks.

— Valves for bow and stern ballast tanks, opened.

A vector image of the submarine appeared on the Captain’s screen. On the image, the hull was divided into three sections: stern, central, and bow. The bow and stern sections turned blue from the bottom up. The blue bar gradually rose as the ballast tanks filled with water. The numerical values on the bow and stern of the illustration gradually increased, reflecting the percentage of the volume filled with water. The value «0%” remained in the center of the image, reflecting the percentage of the central ballast filled with water.

Dr. Moore crossed herself, sincerely hoping for a safe return. Hector Cage fixed his gaze on a distant point, a smile on his face, unable to believe that after all this time, he was heading not just into an aquatic environment, but to a place his former upstart colleagues could never even dream of reaching. Like a child, he felt he was setting off on an adventure. Kayla recalled the sample cultured in her home lab, which was already the seventy-fifth one. She had placed the container in liquid nitrogen to ensure the material remained unchanged until her return. Tucker settled leisurely into his ergonomic chair, immersed in thoughts of descending to the bottom as quickly as possible and discovering the fossilized remains of something. Otherwise, he would deeply regret having voluntarily agreed to such a long abstinence from all the pleasures of life, and such sacrifices absolutely had to be justified. Henry did not take his eyes off the huge display located opposite the First Officer’s workstation. There, he closely monitored readings for temperature, pressure, trim, roll, diving speed, the status of open and closed compartments, the individual fill level of each ballast tank, and many other indicators. He ensured that everything was operating normally and without deviations. The adjacent screen was almost the same size. It was intended to display images from external cameras, night vision devices, and thermal imagers. This display could also be connected to any of the instruments to duplicate the information display for the entire crew to review.

As soon as the bow and stern ballast tanks were full, Captain De Bont gave a new command, simultaneously specifying the exact depth:

— Open the valves for the central ballast. Dive to ninety meters.

— Dive to ninety, executed — Morgan responded.

The submarine continued to descend.

The screen Henry was monitoring displayed a graphic representation of the vessel’s position and current depth. The hangar gates had been left closed. The Amphibia was exiting the bay via a vertical dive.

— Ninety meters, achieved — Morgan reported as the depth was reached.

The instruments showed a pressure level of nine atmospheres.

The Captain approached the large screen and ordered the engineer:

— Henry, bring up the images from cameras one through four.

— On screen now.

A few seconds later, the screen displayed a full 360-degree view of the space around the submarine, provided by the main cameras positioned on a single horizontal plane at the bow, stern, and both sides of the hull.

— Starboard main engine, full ahead.

Having acknowledged the commander, Morgan engaged the starboard propeller at full power. The Amphibia began to turn. The Captain, meanwhile, made sure that the vessel’s hull did not graze the support structure upon which the entire station rested. Shortly after successfully completing the manoeuvre to exit the base, and after examining the graphic map on which the Amphibia’s current location served as the central point, Captain De Bont issued his next order:

— Set course zero-seven-six.

Upon reaching the specified course, the First Officer stopped the starboard engine and reported this to the Captain.

— Dive to one thousand meters. Twenty degrees trim by the bow. Both main engines, half speed.

— Twenty degrees. Half speed, executed.

The dive continued. Pressure readings increased. Starting from the one-hundred-metre mark, Morgan announced the depth at fifty-meter intervals.

From this moment on, the Captain rarely sat in his chair. He constantly moved around the central compartment, checking his own screens, then the larger ones of the engineer and the First Officer.

At a depth of five hundred meters, the Captain gave the order:

— All stop.

— All stop, executed.

— Display three-dimensional chart.

The engineer and the Captain approached the holographic platform, which was located opposite the scientists on the other side of the walkway. Henry activated a three-dimensional image of the ocean, where the bottom relief was visible. A red marker, indicating the Amphibia’s position, also showed on the chart. After determining the distance from the submarine to the seabed at their current location, the Captain decided to make an adjustment:

— Vertical dive three hundred meters.

— Vertical dive three hundred, executed.

Having descended another three hundred meters, Captain De Bont gave a new command:

— Dive to two thousand meters. Twenty degrees trim.

— Dive to two thousand. Twenty degrees trim, executed.

— All four engines, half speed.

— Half speed, executed. Engaging auxiliary engines.

The two main and two auxiliary propellers easily propelled the Amphibia through the Atlantic’s depths. By staying closer to the seabed, the crew increased the chances of discovering any find that might have been lying there since time immemorial.

— Activate floodlights.

— Floodlights activated.

— Henry, display images from cameras five through ten on our scientists’ screens.

— Executing.

The cameras installed along the submarine’s bottom, now operating under powerful floodlight illumination, marked the beginning of Hector, Kayla, and Tucker’s observations of the ocean floor.

— Captain. Captain! — Morgan nervously exclaimed.

— What is it? — Luther de Bont asked calmly, approaching Morgan.

The First Officer pointed his finger at the sonar and said:

— An object is approaching. Bearing zero-eight-two. One thousand one hundred meters.

— All stop — the Captain firmly ordered, maintaining his iron composure.

— All stop, executed.

— Deactivate floodlights.

— Floodlights deactivated — the First Officer continued in the same agitated voice.

The screens that the scientists had been intently watching before the commotion plunged into darkness. Hector and Kayla were visibly frightened. Kayla sank as deep into her chair as possible, much like one does while watching a horror film. Hector watched the Captain’s actions as if distraught, fearing to hear something that would signal the beginning of a conflict. Tucker was barely concerned by the developments. The sudden emergency only prompted him to change his position: he removed his hand from the right armrest and leaned on the left.

— What’s the matter? — a voice called from the passageway. It was Dr. Moore.

— Nothing out of the ordinary, Miss Moore. It’s called deep-sea navigation — the Captain calmly assured her, moving toward the holographic platform. He addressed the engineer:

— Henry, identify the object.

— Already on it.

Observing Captain De Bont’s brisk, businesslike stride and his decisive tone, Kate Moore became even more anxious. She immediately began searching for something to lean against for support.

By manipulating the holographic platform, Henry projected an image of the object. The Captain scrutinized it.

— Well, well, well. Looks like the Americans.

— It is them? — Henry murmured.

— Yes, American subs have hulls like that. Most likely an Ohio-class. They’ve certainly gone deep. Must be a modernized generation. I hadn’t heard about this. The last Ohio model didn’t dive deeper than five hundred and fifty meters. And here they are, at a kilometer and a half already. Are they still moving? — the Captain said, raising his voice slightly as he turned to Morgan.

— They are moving. But not directly toward us. A nineteen-degree deviation to starboard. Distance one thousand fifty meters.

The Captain walked up to the sonar and, squinting at the screen, muttered:

— As if they would be heading straight for us.

— Don’t they see us? — Kayla asked puzzled.

— Otherwise, we wouldn’t have bothered designing the Amphibia — Henry replied.

Suddenly, the signals accompanying the flashing dot on the sonar rapidly accelerated:

PING! PING! PING!

— Morgan, set a course of zero-three-two. Bow plane down fifteen degrees. Main engines, slow ahead. Dead slow.

Tapping rapidly on different areas of the touch panel, the First Officer executed the commands precisely. Half a minute later, the distance between the Amphibia and the American sub began to gradually increase. The signal on the sonar started flashing slightly less often:

Ping… Ping…

— Captain? — Henry called out.

— Yes?

— They shifted the trim from bow to stern.

Smiling sarcastically, the Captain murmured:

— So that’s their crush depth limit. What is it?

— One thousand six hundred and fifty meters.

— Amateurs — the Captain declared proudly, then clapped his First Officer on the shoulders with both hands and commanded: — Course zero-eight-five. All engines, half ahead. Bow plane twenty degrees down.

— Aye, aye, sir.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and Dr. Tucker Hughes leaned back onto his right arm again.

The Captain returned to his station and once again assessed the map with the planned route. After making a few measurements, he waited until the boat had traveled eight hundred metres, then gave the order:

— Course zero-seven-six.

— Zero-seven-six, aye, aye.

— What’s the sonar contact?

— Clear.

— Turn on the floodlights.

— Floodlights are on.

Captain De Bont stood up from his chair and straightened, addressing the scientists and Dr. Moore:

— Esteemed passengers, our vessel has left the turbulence zone. Thank you for your patience. You may unfasten your seat belts and proceed to the galley. Hot meals and cool beverages await you there.

8. THERMOCLINE

— Have you truly never considered starting a family? — Kayla asked the Captain during the meal, pouring grape juice for everyone.

— Well, like most people, I suppose those thoughts cropped up in my youth, back when I was still a rookie on the aircraft carrier.

— And what changed after that?

— After that, I went ashore — first in one port, then a second, a third, and so on endlessly. Believe it or not, Miss Fox, the red-light districts are home not only to the world’s oldest profession but also its most reliable. And where those districts were absent, the guys and I would head to a bar, and we’d play it by ear from there. If we got lucky, all the better — no need to pay. If not, we just had to hold out until the next port. What about you?

Kayla didn’t have to think long about her reply.

— As a friend of mine says, I’m married to my microscope.

— Oh, come on. — the Captain chuckled. — You should take what I’m about to say as a compliment. You are far too attractive not to be popular with the opposite sex. So, I don’t buy those stories of yours. You definitely had a grand romance, not just some fleeting fling. Right? Spill it.

— Alright then. Just promise not to laugh. And what I’m about to tell you must stay strictly between us.

— Did everyone hear that? — the Captain asked the crew at the table, a little more sternly. — If anyone here can’t restrain the urge to divulge other people’s secrets, I ask you to temporarily leave the galley.

The reply was only silence.

Acknowledging the eyes of the entire crew focused on her, Kayla made a sincere confession.

— Essentially, back in university, I was seeing a guy from a parallel course. We slept together maybe seven times. I started to feel drawn to him. I suspected he didn’t have serious plans for me, but I hoped that if I excelled in bed, he’d change his mind. But at our next meeting, he suggested we try a threesome. The third person was supposed to be a man. Naturally, I asked him the first thing that came to mind. He said no, he was strictly straight. Being intimate with him felt like more than just animalistic mating. There was a sort of emotional pull. So, I wasn’t keen on participating in that whole Freudian/Sacher-Masoch fantasy. But he eventually persuaded me. When the act was at its height, I felt a sensation as though my heart would stop from the sheer ecstasy of it… That experience corrupted me. The attraction I felt for the guy suddenly evaporated. Now I started viewing every potential partner as merely a tool to satisfy my primal urges. No attachment, no attempts to understand a person’s views, character, or life priorities. In short, I began to doubt I could ever remain faithful to my partner. And frankly, given my occupation, I prefer simple biology. Not just in my work, but in my personal life too.

— Ahem — Tucker rasped. — Since we’re doing this, I suppose I’ll try to pour out my soul too. Honestly, these sorts of conversations are exactly what we need to recall the most tumultuous moments of our youth.

— We’ll soon be going around in circles — the First Officer quipped sarcastically.

— Dibs on going next — said Henry.

— And that’s an order — the Captain added.

As the galley filled with the synchronous laughter of the entire crew, Dr. Moore immediately hid her face behind her glass, slowly sipping the grape juice in small gulps. Her eyes focused on the bottom of the glass, and her cheeks took on a slightly brighter shade of pink.

— No, seriously — the Captain continued. — Before this voyage is over, each of us must confess to some kind of shocking experience we’ve endured, if not an outright sin.

Everyone nodded in unison. There was no reaction from Dr. Moore.

— It happened in Los Angeles — the paleontologist began. — Or, rather, it started there. I went to visit my cousin for Christmas during my final year of university. He told me over the phone that he’d been invited to celebrate the holiday at the cottage of some film producer who lived in Beverly Hills, and that, supposedly, crowds of models, famous movie stars, and singers would be hanging around. So, I arrived at the airport on Christmas Eve. But right there, practically at the ramp, my cousin informed me that the plans had changed and no party with the Hollywood bigwig was going to happen. I figured he’d been taken off the invite list. But it turned out that my uncle, aunt, and their daughter had simply gone to celebrate Christmas with relatives in Vancouver, leaving their son on his own. So, my cousin, it turns out, had managed to gather five friends in just a few hours, tracked down an eight-seater van somewhere, and found the address of a first-class brothel not far from the Mexican border. Many people had heard about this establishment, but only a few knew its exact location. And my cousin paid seven hundred dollars for the intelligence about the brothel’s whereabouts.

— Just for the address? — Morgan asked, his tone suggesting he was sure it was some kind of scam.

— Believe me, my friend, that intelligence is better than any message for 007. Anyway, the whole company hit the road, driving east along the highway past San Diego. We twisted and turned through the area for half an hour until we found the street. Turns out it wasn’t on the map.

— Even MI6 would envy that level of secrecy — Captain De Bont commented.

— Exactly! And I was already having all sorts of thoughts creeping into my head. That area was populated almost entirely by Mexicans. I kept thinking, «I hope we don’t end up captured by some drug cartel.» That was all we needed. Though, rumour had it that the brothel did, in fact, belong to some drug lord. Anyway, we parked where the establishment was supposedly located. From the outside, it looked like a perfectly ordinary two-story house with a basement. The only thing that distinguished it from the others was its sheer size. Otherwise, nothing special. We walked in, and there was a two-meter bouncer at the entrance. I was surprised by how courteous he was, though. He asked what he could do to help, and, crucially, he was completely non-aggressive. My cousin gave him something that sounded like a password, and we were let through. The moment I stepped inside… I’m telling you, no nightclub could even come close. The lighting was a deep magenta hue. I don’t know how Viagra works, but that light got me going within the first few seconds. The whole place reeked of lust. The women were dressed in minimalist attire. Nothing superfluous. They looked as if they’d been sculpted. Lust in their eyes, debauchery on their tongues, and temptation beckoning from their necklines. The further down you looked, the deeper the vice. When the first one approached, I thought she was about to solicit. But she just asked me to buy her a drink. We went to the bar, where I ordered her a martini. And that’s when my cousin began to explain. It turns out that every woman in the establishment has her own minimum fee. But you don’t pay for an hour spent with the woman; you pay for the drink you buy her. If you want role-playing, you pay extra and ask for ice to be put in the glass. If you want the woman to service you in the most intimate way before the main event, you ask for a straw to be placed in the glass, and the cost of the drink increases by a specific sum. If you want the full package, the glass will contain not only the martini, ice, and straw, but also an umbrella, a slice of lemon, a lime, and much more. So, this is how it works: the patron pays for a drink. He’s even issued a receipt. Everything is documented. The price list details the prices for all drinks and for every possible garnish or additive. The sums are astronomical. But the clients didn’t mind. They pay for the drinks, and the sex is complimentary. And no one can prosecute them criminally. All revenue is recorded in the financial statements. Everything is official. What markup to place on the drinks is up to the owners. After all, mutual consensual intercourse is not prohibited. And the women there were formally employed as simple waitresses. So…

— Captain!

The startled crew members, whose attention had been elsewhere, snapped back to reality. Hector, who had been monitoring the screens, ran into the galley.

— Yes, Mr. Cage?

— Stop the sub immediately!

The entire crew rushed to the central compartment. Standing before the screens, Captain De Bont commanded:

— All stop.

— All stop, aye.

— There was something sticking out there — Hector excitedly reported, continually pointing at the section of the screen that displayed the view from the seventh camera.

— Alright, Morgan. Main engines, dead slow astern. Dead slow.

The Amphibia continued moving in the same attitude but in reverse along the ocean floor. Every single crew member’s gaze was fixed on the upper right corner of the large screen, where the ichthyologist had just been insistently pointing. The entire crew stood waiting for something to appear on the screen. The Amphibia moved so slowly that nothing could escape their notice. There was plenty of time to properly examine every square centimeter under the floodlights. The image drifted by unhurriedly. Only the Captain and the Engineer looked at the feed coming not from the seventh but from the fifth camera, which was located closer to the shaft seal. Eventually, under the powerful glow of the floodlights on the dark bottom, Captain De Bont noticed a bright spot.

— All stop.

— All stop, aye.

fter a couple of seconds of deliberation, the Captain added:

— Morgan, shift the hull a few more meters so that the airlock is directly over that thing. Set the trim to zero. Henry, you’re coming with me.

The Captain and the Engineer hurried to the access pool. The First Officer reversed another four meters, after which the Captain’s voice came over the intercom:

— Central, over.

— Central listening — Morgan replied.

— Continue reverse thrust.

— Understood.

Maintaining dead slow astern, Morgan shifted the Amphibia a little further and stopped the screws when he heard over the intercom:

— We have visual contact.

Morgan switched on the camera feed installed near the access pool. The screen showed Henry delicately operating the control panel and levers while seated on the manipulator arm. Among the available tools for gripping the object, he decided to use a scoop, similar to a grader’s blade. Submerging the seven-meter folding titanium arm underwater, Henry scraped the soil off the ocean floor along with the suspicious white object. As soon as the scoop was inside the sub’s cavity, the Captain pressed a button on the wall, and the airlock began to close. The Captain then walked up to the intercom panel and said:

— Morgan, activate the drainage system. Miss Fox, please take all the necessary tools from the lab and come down to retrieve the find.

Fourteen minutes later, the item recovered from the Atlantic Ocean floor lay on a table in the biological laboratory, surrounded by the entire crew, with the exception of Morgan, who remained at his post.

— Who has any initial thoughts? — Captain De Bont asked.

Dr. Tucker Hughes leaned closer to examine the object more carefully. It was shaped like a tube, four centimetres in diameter, with smooth walls and ragged ends. The object measured nine and a half centimetres in length.

Holding a magnifying glass to the object, the paleontologist began to speculate:

— It looks like a skeletal fragment. The condition of the ends is very peculiar. One might assume that the owner of this bone had their skeleton broken, and the edges of this fragment were worn down by the saltwater. Yet, the walls are in pristine condition. That is highly unusual. The ends are abraded, but the exterior tissues look almost fresh.

— Miss Fox?

— I’m surprised this fragment was found here, in the thermocline, where the coldest layers of the ocean are located.

— And what about the examination?

— I think I’ll start with radiocarbon dating. We need to determine how ancient this bone is. After that, I will attempt DNA identification. Let’s find out what this thing is, and then we’ll decide on the next steps.

— Excellent — Captain De Bont concluded. — The first specimen has been collected.

9. INTRUDER ON BOARD

Three days after Dr. Kayla Fox began examining the recovered find, the submarine «Amphibia XXI» reached a depth of six thousand meters. Following the discovery of the fossil, Captain De Bont decided to reduce speed to a minimum so as not to miss a single object that might be of interest for scientific research.

The paleontologist entered the biological laboratory. He arrived just as Dr. Fox was concluding the interim results of her work.

— Have you managed to determine anything yet? — Tucker asked, rubbing his palms as he approached the table with the microscopes.

— Definitely. Firstly, its age. It is approximately sixty million years old. We should assume that the owner of this ’bone’ was a representative of one of the first species of living organisms that populated the world’s oceans after the asteroid struck the Yucatán Peninsula.

— Hmm. It’s remarkably well-preserved for such a long time. And secondly?

Swiveling left and right in her chair, Kayla spoke as if forcing the words out:

— You know, Tucker, I am forced to doubt that we found a skeletal fragment.

— Elaborate.

For agonizing seconds, Kayla pressed her lips together, as if holding back the announcement of some terrible secret.

— To be brief, the material started to disintegrate after just a few hours.

— Disintegrate? What do you mean? — The paleontologist was wildly perplexed. — I have years of experience. I saw it with my own eyes and can assure you that it was a skeletal fragment.

— You misunderstood — the biologist hastened to reassure him. — It really was a bone. But it began to rapidly crumble the moment the tissue left its aquatic environment. To halt the process, I scraped off a small portion for analysis and submerged the bulk of the material in liquid nitrogen, where it will remain stored until we return to base.

— Then why do you claim that it is not a bone?

Kayla pulled a container with samples of the recovered substance toward her, used tweezers to take out several particles, pressed them between slides, and then placed the samples under the microscope.

— I put them in a solution to reactivate them and see what they look like in a living state.

— Did you say «them»? Who are «they»?

— Why don’t you take a look — Kayla offered, yielding her spot in front of the microscope.

Tucker watched through the eyepiece with genuine interest at the object magnified fifteen hundred times. He didn’t understand much about biology, but that didn’t matter now because something living had been preserved in the ancient deposits.

— What… what is it?

— Most likely, amoebas. Amoebas unknown to modern science.

Tucker himself didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth:

— They survived tens of millions of years, and now…

The paleontologist interrupted his own speech after accidentally knocking over the container with the samples.

Kayla quickly rinsed Tucker’s hand with rubbing alcohol.

— What was that for?

— We don’t know what these organisms are. It’s better to be safe. They could be parasitic, and I haven’t properly studied them yet. So, we need to maintain strict precautions for now.

— Whatever you say.

Glancing around, Tucker said apologetically:

— Well, I certainly made a mess. Let me help you clean up.

— No! — Kayla snapped. — You must be careful. I’ll do it myself. You can’t just wipe everything down with a wet cloth. Don’t worry about it.

— Alright, then. I apologize for making the mess.

— It’s fine.

— I’ll be going now. Only the Captain and the Engineer are still up there. Everyone else is sleeping. I should probably go too, as there’s no telling day from night down here. No routine whatsoever.

Kayla said nothing, focusing on cleaning up the spilled solution and samples. She thoroughly soaked a bandage with alcohol and wiped down the spilled area, after which she threw the alcohol-soaked bandage into the gas incinerator and burned it. Only a small amount of the material that had been diluted in the chemical solution remained.

Tucker watched this process guiltily, then left the laboratory. Once outside the doorway, the paleontologist felt something wet on his cheek. They were drops of some kind. Out of habit, he wiped them with his palm and headed to his cabin.

As soon as Kayla had eliminated the traces of the solution from the table, she immediately returned to work and continued to examine the samples under the microscope. More than half an hour had passed since she last looked through the eyepiece. Therefore, she still had to find out what exactly Tucker had seen.

Some changes had definitely occurred. The amoebas had begun to develop. Apparently, a process of cell division had started. It was already a complex multicellular organism. What the catalyst was remained unknown. To better understand the nature of the multiplying cells, Kayla used tweezers to pick up a particle of the sample and placed it in a cubic chamber. She then continued to observe the cells, activating the vacuum pump. Her suspicions were confirmed: as soon as the air supply was cut off, the cells stopped showing any activity.

Tucker Hughes had slept for six and a half hours. He felt excellent, experiencing a burst of vitality he hadn’t felt in a long time. Tucker decided to start his day (even though it was probably the dead of night over the ocean) with a cup of strong coffee. But first, he felt the urgent need to empty his bladder of the excess fluid accumulated from the juice, water, green tea, and mineral water he’d consumed.

The washroom was empty at the time. The paleontologist turned on the light and stood over the toilet, wishing to quickly relax his strained prostate. Unfastening his trousers, Tucker glanced down to coordinate his aim. But the moment his gaze dropped, an abrupt tremor shot through him, stemming from the most sensitive spot. The entire back of his right hand was covered in redness in the form of numerous specks. As soon as he rubbed the skin, his palm began to itch savagely. Tucker immediately went to the sink to run cold water over his hand and quell the itching. Inspecting his now-wet palm, Tucker realized things were truly bad. Severe swelling was visible on the skin. Judging by the small, pinprick dots on his wrist and fingers near the first phalanx, the rash was spreading further, moving onto his forearm.

Just a few seconds later, Tucker was frantically banging on the door of the cabin where Dr. Kate Moore was sleeping.

Meanwhile, Kayla Fox made yet another discovery that raised even more questions about the multicellular entity. Taking the container of samples intended for genome sequencing out of the refrigerator, the biologist uncovered a bombshell: the genome contained forty-six chromosomes, arranged in twenty-three pairs. Just like a human’s.

— What exactly were you doing before you went to sleep? — Dr. Moore asked, looking puzzled as she examined Tucker in the infirmary.

— Nothing out of the ordinary.

— It’s just that you also have a red spot on your cheek. Doesn’t that itch?

Frowning, Tucker raised his left hand to his right cheek. The moment his fingers touched the skin, he instantly felt an intense burning sensation. Due to the discomfort, the paleontologist involuntarily clenched his jaw.

— Easy, easy — Dr. Moore murmured, patting Tucker’s shoulder. — Tucker, lie down on the examination table. Come on. Gently. That’s it.

Tucker obeyed the doctor’s instructions with effort, slowly leaning his back against the table. Dr. Moore rummaged through the drawers while informing her patient:

— I’m going to give you a painkiller now, but you are not to get up. In half an hour, I’ll need to give you another injection, which will be an antibiotic. Before the first shot, I’ll take a blood sample to understand what’s happening in your body. My suspicion is that this is some kind of infection. I have no way of determining the incubation period, but the rash appeared and progressed far too rapidly. Few things can manifest so sharply over just seven hours of sleep. I might adjust the treatment after the analysis. In any case, you are not leaving my sight. Do you understand?

Still tightly squeezing his eyes shut against the discomfort, Tucker nodded affirmatively.

Two hours had passed since the paleontologist fell asleep under the effect of the third injection. Meanwhile, Kayla Fox had lost count of the experiments she was running to study the nature and behavior of the cells. Not long ago, she had mixed samples of the find with a drop of her own blood. The foreign microbe began creating its own copies, which initiated the process of cell division. At the same time, the parent cell itself maintained its original state. But what she was about to discover filled Kayla with mixed emotions. On the one hand, she was overwhelmed by the realization of how little modern science knew about these living organisms. On the other hand, the thought of what might happen if the fusion of the deep-sea cells with human cells occurred not under a microscope but inside a human being sent shivers down her spine..

Observing the reaction of the ancient cells to the human cells under a light microscope, Kayla discovered that, upon making contact, the centromeres of the chromosomes from both samples began to separate, and the chromatids pulled apart, subsequently fusing with the chromatids of the foreign cell. The DNA of the human and the unknown creature had merged. Before Kayla’s eyes, a cell of a new organism was formed: a hybrid of a human and a creature unknown to science.

What would the full organism look like? — Kayla wondered, almost aloud, pressing her fingers to her chin.

Tucker woke up. A couple of meters from the examination table where he lay, Dr. Moore sat with a puzzled grimace on her face. Noticing the movement on the table, Kate asked:

— How are you feeling?

The paleontologist tried to touch his affected hand, when he suddenly noticed that both his hands were restrained by straps.

— I’ll unstrap you, but please don’t touch the spots. I strapped you in so that the spots wouldn’t accidentally press against anything while you slept.

After being freed from the restraints, Tucker looked at his palm. The redness remained, but the swelling had subsided.

— Tucker, I’m going to gently touch your hand with the tip of my finger. Tell me immediately if you feel a reaction. Agreed?

Tucker nodded silently, his anxious gaze fixed on his own hand.

Dr. Moore pressed her index finger lightly against the skin, increasing the pressure slightly each time. The paleontologist felt no pain. The same lack of reaction was observed on his cheek.

— Do you mind if I draw a little more of your blood?

Tucker remained silent, responding only with nods.

There was a knock at the door. It was Dr. Moore.

— Kayla, are you terribly busy?

— No, not particularly.

— Could you help me with something? Mr. Hughes has been feeling unwell. These are samples of his blood. Would you take a look?

— No problem.

For about a minute, Kayla examined the samples under the microscope, her mouth agape. Her lips remained parted even after she took her eyes away from the eyepieces.

— Do you happen to know what these particles are? — Dr. Moore asked. — Have you ever encountered anything like this in your practice?

Kayla thought about the hybrid cell she had left in the refrigerator. Then she looked at Dr. Moore and replied, striving to project indifference:

— Never.

— Tucker, is it possible you ate something that the others haven’t tried?

The paleontologist vigorously racked his brain and remembered his favorite snack.

— I opened a fresh package of dried fruit. But that was on the very first day, when we were just getting settled here.

Dr. Moore immediately shot up from her seat, rushing to warn the rest of the crew not to touch the packages of dried fruit. Up until that moment, Tucker Hughes remained the only person who had consumed them.

After reviewing the paleontologist’s blood samples, Kayla ran an analysis on her own blood. She considered it critically necessary, if only for her peace of mind. Her blood was clear of any foreign microorganisms. From then on, the biologist decided to work exclusively in a fully closed lab coat with the sleeves tucked into her gloves.

Nothing conclusive was found in the dried fruit, with the exception of several types of minor parasites that cause no serious complications and are treated quite quickly. But Dr. Moore was not even concerned with how harmful bacteria could have gotten into the packets in the first place. She was still preoccupied with the origin of the suspicious particles in her patient’s body and how to eradicate them.

The latest blood test showed a significant decline in foreign particle activity, which coincided with the disappearance of the rash. Although Tucker’s condition had returned to normal, the unfamiliar microbes still lingered in his bloodstream.

Without even knowing whether the infection could be transmitted by airborne droplets or otherwise, Kate did not remove her mask until she was certain that no other crew members were reporting illness. Nevertheless, she decided to err on the side of caution and place Tucker in isolation, cutting off contact with the rest of the crew.

Now she faced the long task of studying the microbe and how it might affect Tucker’s body in the future.

The control room was empty. First Officer Morgan Sinclair remained on duty in front of the screens. Slumping into the Captain’s chair, a satisfied grimace on his face, he imagined that one day he would be just as effective at giving orders to subordinates as Luther de Bont, whom the First Officer respected immensely and strove to emulate in every way. Whenever Captain De Bont had previously left service on a military submarine, Morgan would not hesitate for a second to submit his resignation immediately afterward, as he firmly believed that any new captain following De Bont would seem like a second-rate imitation of an officer, incapable of demonstrating the worthy example of a true naval serviceman. Thus, after the first voyage with Captain De Bont, Morgan refused to serve under the command of any other person.

It was a great honor for him to sit in his captain’s chair. So intoxicating that Morgan involuntarily began to doze, and this semi-sleep continued until a «ping… ping… ping…» echoed in the control room. The First Officer woke up startled and rushed to the sonar. The screen was blank.

Morgan checked the instrument readings. The Amphibia had already reached a depth of seven thousand meters and was beginning to enter the abyssal zone of the Atlantic.

To ward off the urge to sleep, the First Officer stepped away for a couple of minutes to the washroom. A brief walk, emptying his bladder, and splashing his hands with cool water would be most welcome.

The control room was briefly empty. The sonar displayed a small dot in the very center of the screen, against a black, deserted circle. A green contact briefly flashed on the northern boundary, accompanied by a short «ping…» sound. A second later, the dot changed location, appearing slightly closer to the center of the screen, which represented the Amphibia. The next displacement occurred to the southeast, then east, and back to the northeast, returning to the edge of the screen.

At that moment, Morgan exited the washroom, slowly returning to the control room. The instruments recorded no external activity.

10. INTRUDER IN THE WATER

— Well, what have we got? — Captain De Bont asked, stretching after a sound sleep as he strode confidently through the control room.

— There was something, Captain — the First Officer replied in a half-asleep voice.

— And elaborate on that point — the Captain threw out, intrigued, as he sat down in his chair.

Morgan rubbed his chin, considering where to start.

— I started to doze off at my post yesterday. But, Captain, it only lasted a second. I swear.

With a clear grimace, Captain De Bont signaled that this part of the story was of little interest to him and gestured impatiently for him to proceed to the main part.

— I thought I heard the sonar ping. I looked at the screen, and it was blank. Then I quickly ran to the washroom, came back, and half an hour later some damn thing actually appeared on the screen.

— Seriously? — Henry asked, surprised, having approached unnoticed.

— Yes, seriously. I was so engrossed by this thing that I didn’t even think to go to the holo-platform and find out what it was.

— And what was so engrossing about it?

— It was huge. Almost as big as our sub. I didn’t look at the exact readings, but the signature on the screen was a decent size.

— Maybe someone else’s submarines can dive to such depths? — Henry suggested.

— I don’t think so — the Captain snapped.

— It’s not a sub — the First Officer insisted.

— What makes you so sure?

Morgan remained silent for a few seconds, mouth open, then finally said:

— The speed was too jerky. It changed instantaneously. And for a sub, it was turning far too sharply. Almost on the spot.

After some deliberation, the Captain decided:

— We’ll proceed as follows. Morgan, activate the floodlight cameras all over the hull. Every single one. Start video recording. We will document everything that happens around us. Henry, you activate the holo-platform and leave it operational. We might run into our mysterious guest again. And one more thing: starting today, the three of us will maintain watch. It’s my turn now. Henry will be next. We’ll stick to this rotation for forty-eight hours, and then we’ll re-evaluate.

— Aye, Captain — Morgan saluted.

— Yes, sir — Henry replied, imagining himself as a member of a military submarine crew.

Before his watch began, Henry went to the engine room to perform equipment diagnostics.

During the eight hours of his watch, Captain De Bont left his post only twice for a quick restroom break, and upon his return, he checked the video recordings from the cameras for the time he was absent, all while listening intently to the silence of the sonar. The Captain found nothing during his eight-hour watch.

It was Henry’s turn.

Tucker’s health had significantly improved. All external signs pointed to a healthy condition. Dr. Kate Moore checked his pupils, listened to his heart and lungs, measured his temperature, oxygen saturation, and blood pressure, and tested his abdominal sensitivity and nervous system response by applying finger pressure. There were no physical abnormalities. Yet, the unknown microbes still remained in his bloodstream.

— Miss Moore, I’m healthy as an ox, I’m telling you.

— Tucker, your physical condition doesn’t tell the whole story. I am a highly experienced doctor. What I see under the microscope in your blood should not be there. I understand that it is unpleasant for you to be here around the clock, and this cannot continue indefinitely. So, let’s make a deal. Ten hours have passed since your last injection; I will not administer any more antibiotics or any other medications; if the next twelve hours pass without incident, you will be free to go. Does that arrangement suit you?

Sighing heavily, Tucker nodded affirmatively.

Like a zombie, Henry watched the sonar screen. A sizable contact was moving within a two-hundred-meter radius. He rushed to the holographic platform and zoomed out the image. A black parallelepiped was moving toward the Amphibia on the three-dimensional map. When the distance between the submarine and the object on the sonar closed to one hundred meters, Henry glanced at the monitor, trying to see something through the hull cameras. Suddenly, the interval between the sonar pings noticeably decreased. The control room was filled with rapid sounds, signaling the approach of the unknown object:

PING!!! PING!!! PING!!! PING!..

The distance shrank to fifty meters. The rectangular shape on the holo-platform nearly touched the Amphibia’s 3D hologram. Distance thirty meters. Twenty meters. Ten.

An ear-splitting, metal-on-metal screech erupted from the Amphibia’s bow. A split second later, a slight vibration filled the entire submarine. The piercing sound intensified, and with it, the vibration grew, reaching such force that Henry, attempting to reach the intercom to call the Captain, lost his footing. He slammed against the fire safety locker, hitting his temple on the fire extinguisher. The control room was filled with the voice of the onboard computer:

— Warning! Collision! Warning!..

The epicenter of the vibration shifted closer to the stern with every passing second. The entire interior cladding rattled violently. The numbers reflecting the heading on the display changed ceaselessly. Under the influence of the unknown source of pressure, the Amphibia was being wrenched sideways. The submarine rolled to starboard, the bow trim decreased, and due to the hull’s displacement, the heading was warped by eleven degrees. Everything that was not secured inside the sub crashed to the deck.

Barely able to remain upright, fighting the bone-shaking vibration, Captain De Bont rushed to the post.

— Henry!? Henry!?

His shouts were almost drowned out by the thunderous noise filling all compartments of the Amphibia.

The vibration and noise suddenly and sharply subsided. The Captain found the engineer on the deck near the fire safety locker. Henry was conscious, with an open wound visible on his right temple.

Hector and Morgan burst out of their cabin. Noticing their figures, Captain De Bont yelled:

— Get Miss Moore! Now!

The Captain single-handedly lifted Henry from the deck and, slinging the injured man’s left arm over his shoulder, began to drag him toward the infirmary. While Hector ran to fetch the doctor, Morgan took the engineer’s other arm, and together with the Captain, they hastily carried Henry to the infirmary. Just steps from the door, Kate practically leaped out of the infirmary. She immediately took charge, examining the engineer on the fly before asking them to lay him on the examination table.

— What is going on! — Kayla cried, bursting hysterically from her cabin.

The Captain hurried back to the control room, followed closely by the ichthyologist.

— What could that have been? — Hector gasped, his breathing ragged as he ran.

— I hope to find out now.

The Captain’s first action was to rush to the sonar. It was blank. Then Luther ran to the main monitor and began rewinding the video feed. Camera number thirteen, which was mounted near the sail, looked up at an angle and captured something that fell under the edge of the searchlight beam. It was dark and indistinct. Comparing the footage from different cameras, the Captain came to a simple conclusion: the object had approached by moving through a dead zone that the floodlights barely covered.

The ichthyologist asked no further questions after witnessing the video footage with his own eyes.

Only then did the Captain deactivate the collision alarm and return the submersible to its original position, restoring its previous heading. The sonar remained blank. In his next action, Captain De Bont shut off all the floodlights and, after asking the ichthyologist to stay on watch, ran toward the stern himself to assess the damage.

The Captain returned to the infirmary half an hour later.

Henry was sitting up and fully conscious, wincing only slightly from the pain in his temple as Dr. Moore bandaged his head.

— Henry — the Captain addressed him, squatting down and trying to speak as gently as possible. — Can you tell me what it was? Did you manage to see anything on the instruments?

Concentrating with visible effort, the engineer began to explain:

— It—it’s massive. Twenty-six meters long.

— Is it a vessel?

— No, no. The holo-platform only registers the contours of the seabed and technical objects. Submarines, ships, any vehicle within range. A second before the collision, I was looking at the holo-platform. It was displaying a black, volumetric rectangle. The system couldn’t recognize the object. It’s only incapable of identifying something if it has a natural origin. Purely organic.

A prolonged, whistling gasp was heard in the room.

— I would have switched the cameras to thermal imaging mode, but I just didn’t have time. — Suddenly, Henry’s eyes widened, as if in terror, and he whispered with a shudder: — Captain. The reactor!

— I checked. It’s intact.

For a while, the infirmary was plunged into a dead silence.

— Captain, what happens now? — Kayla asked. Her eyes were still wide, still under the influence of her slowly fading state of shock.

— We continue with our work. Everyone fulfills their duties. Until we figure out what that was, we will continue to follow the intended route. — The Captain then turned to the doctor: — Miss Moore, how is our paleontologist doing?

— He feels normal. If there is no deterioration in his health, he will be back on duty today.

— That’s at least one piece of good news.

Morgan stepped forward:

— Captain, may I request permission to take the watch?

Captain De Bont firmly refused:

— No. I’m taking the watch for the next twelve hours.

With these words, the vessel’s commanding officer returned to the control room.

Sitting down in his operational chair, Hector Cage said:

— If you’ll permit me, Captain, I’ll stay here with you for a while.

— You don’t need to ask, Mr. Cage. This is your duty station. You may occupy it whenever and for as long as you wish.

As soon as the situation aboard the Amphibia stabilized, the first thing Kayla did was check the state of the containers in the refrigerator. They were intact, as were the Alpha-1 samples — the name she had decided to give the microorganisms from the fossil recovered from the ocean floor.

Three days had passed since the collision with the unknown object. Amphibia XXI had reached a depth of seven thousand nine hundred meters. First Officer Morgan Sinclair was on watch. Tucker Hughes, who was at least alleviating the monotony of the duty with his conversation, had stepped away to the washroom to comply with the doctor’s order to submit a urine sample every twelve hours.

Usually, one had to peer very closely at the screen segments so as not to miss some deep-sea crab or worm. But at that moment, the First Officer’s gaze fell upon something that barely fit halfway into the field of view of camera number four.

Like a madman, Morgan slammed the touchpad and stopped both engines, then rushed to the intercom to contact the galley, where Captain De Bont, Hector, Kayla, and Henry were tucking into fried chicken and fruit salad.

— Captain! You are needed in the Control Room! Emergency!

The hysterical tone of the First Officer’s voice caused Captain De Bont to leap from his seat, snagging his plate and nearly knocking over a glass of lemonade.

11. ABYSSAL

— Course two-four-five. Medium speed. Start video recording.

— Aye, two-four-five. Medium speed. Video recording engaged.

The Amphibia approached the underwater structure, which was revealed under the floodlights. The entire crew stood silently, frozen before the main screen in the control room. Only the Captain and the First Officer spoke, controlling the submarine. Even Dr. Moore temporarily put aside her work to observe the unusual find.

The main display showed a full-screen image from just one camera, which captured the bulk of the object.

— Captain, look! Over here! — Morgan exclaimed, pointing to the upper part of the image.

Captain De Bont approached the screen and, squinting, began examining a detail, muttering almost under his breath:

— Yes. It looks like an inscription. — Then, in a slightly more energized voice, the Captain ordered the engineer: — Henry, take a snapshot.

A couple of seconds passed, and Henry reported:

— Already done.

— Display it.

A frozen image appeared on the screen.

— Rotate it ninety degrees clockwise.

After rotating the image, the Captain examined the object even more closely, tracing the screen with his finger. A look of resolute confidence settled on the Captain’s face, reinforced by his determined stride toward the holographic display.

— So, what do we have here?

— What a behemoth — Tucker murmured.

— How long has it been here? — Kayla asked, raking the fingers of her right hand through the back of her hair.

— The forties, I’d guess — the Captain declared, still focused on the three-dimensional image on the holographic platform. — The U-116. It belonged to the Nazis. Ninety meters long. It could dive to two hundred and twenty meters at most, yet it went down seven and a half kilometers.

— Did it sink during the Battle of the Atlantic? — Hector asked.

— I don’t believe so. It was declared missing in 1942. The last known coordinates from which communication was established are four to five thousand kilometers from here. Even if they lost contact because they were torpedoed, the submarine settled far too far from those coordinates. And if communication problems had arisen on their own, they would have been forced to return to one of their bases to repair the equipment, because no warship, let alone a submarine, would patrol the ocean without communication with command.

— And what kind of freak current brought it all the way out here? — Kayla asked.

— Well, this isn’t the only Wehrmacht submarine that went missing. There were about five of them in total within a six-month period. We’ll scan it now and see if my suspicions are justified. First Officer! Close the distance to the object. Thirty meters.

The Amphibia moved closer to the fallen U-boat of the Third Reich, after which Captain De Bont commanded:

— Drop the anchor.

The vessel held position at that spot.

— Henry. Prepare for the scan.

Two cylindrical probes, fitted with laser scanners on their tips, extended from the Amphibia’s bow.

— Probes deployed — Henry reported.

— Set the focus area.

The engineer began configuring the system to isolate and highlight the object from the surrounding space for scanning.

— Ready to scan.

— Commence scanning.

Pressing just one key, Henry solemnly declared:

— Scan initiated!

At least two days of waiting lay ahead for the full scanning process of the World War II submarine that rested on the ocean floor.

— Well, — Captain De Bont drawled, glancing dramatically at his watch, — Gentlemen… and ladies, our vessel has just made an unscheduled stop along our planned route. The wait time is anywhere from forty-eight hours to infinity. We apologize for the inconvenience and, as compensation, invite everyone interested to the galley for a round of poker.

Amidst the aromas of hot tea and freshly brewed coffee, the crew members indulged in one of the oldest vices: gambling.

— If anyone forgot, I’ll remind you — the Captain began. — Everyone is required to share a secret during the voyage. By some utterly improbable coincidence, we happen to have poker chips on board. Everyone gets five thousand in chips. But, as you’ve guessed, we aren’t playing for money. Mr. Hughes is on watch, so we’ll split into pairs. The pair that is fully eliminated first — both members — must reveal one skeleton from their closet. The participants in the second pair to be eliminated will decide between themselves who makes the candid confession. And I warn you now: I can smell BS from a mile away.

— What if we don’t have any skeletons? — asked Dr. Moore.

— Then we’ll start acquiring some, Miss Moore. So, it’s in your best interest to strain your memory. Better to recall something than to have to create a new one in front of everyone.

Kayla and Hector decided to team up by themselves. The Captain invited Kate to play with him, noting that in his youth he had won countless watch shifts that other sailors had to take for him. That left Henry and Morgan.

After two hours of folding, checking, betting, raising, and bluffing, the crew members had gotten to know each other much better. It turned out that at age fifteen, Hector went to a party at a hippie commune’s house. There, he smoked his first rolled cigarette, and when he woke up the next morning, he only vaguely recalled what had happened after that marijuana joint. When Morgan was twenty-five, he ran naked through the entire submarine from bow to stern, thus completing a ritual to which all newcomers on that perverted vessel were subjected. Kayla confessed to performing a striptease on a banquet table ten hours after receiving her specialist’s diploma and after two glasses of absinthe. Henry decided not to be left out and revealed some details of a very delicate moment that arrives in everyone’s life. It turned out that the Amphibia’s engineer lost his virginity to his thirty-seven-year-old teacher, who, already in a horizontal position, explained why she had given him a C on his quantum electronics test. Dr. Moore, in turn, thanked Captain De Bont for saving her from having to disclose the most shameful chapters of her life to the crew.

Forty-two hours had passed since the probes were launched. The process was delayed because scanning had to be performed from multiple points. This necessity arose due to the dense darkness that prevails in the abyssal zone of the Atlantic, making it difficult to define the focal area against a black background. Now the waiting period could extend up to six days. Nonetheless, this was only the second week of the expedition, and the overall plans remained completely unaffected.

During this time, Kayla Fox conducted several new experiments on Alpha-1. These bacteria exhibited an unusual reaction when coming into contact with stem cells. A further discovery was that Alpha-1 utilized the stem cells to modify its own structure, adapting to survive without nourishment or to live in conditions that would otherwise be detrimental to it.

Dr. Kate Moore breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that the number of foreign particles in Tucker’s new blood samples had decreased slightly.

A technical issue aboard the sub was discovered somewhat belatedly. Following the Amphibia’s collision with the unknown object, the water desalinizer had failed. Although he urged the crew to remain calm, the Captain himself only truly breathed a sigh of relief three hours later, once Henry had fixed the malfunction.

It was the eighth day of scanning. The process was eighty-eight percent complete.

Henry was on watch in the Control Room. Captain De Bont, Morgan, Dr. Moore, and Tucker were engrossed in watching a movie in the galley behind closed hatches. By a unanimous decision, everyone had supported the First Officer’s proposal to choose Dawn of the Planet of the Apes for the viewing session.

While Hector Cage was returning from the laundry room, Kayla opened the washroom hatch, asking the approaching ichthyologist:

— Were you heading in here?

— Um… no. Go ahead.

Without thinking, Kayla hastily pulled the hatch toward herself, and the passageway suddenly became tight for both of them. Apologizing, she secured the hatch momentarily to let Hector pass.

— Thank you, Miss Fox.

At that moment, Kayla felt some part of Hector’s body brush against the back of her t-shirt, near her right shoulder blade.

— Excuse me, Mr. Cage — Kayla called out.

— Yes?

— Could I take a couple of minutes of your time?

— Of course.

Dropping her voice to a whisper, Kayla added:

— Just in private.

The two of them entered the washroom. After sealing the hatch from within, Hector asked:

— Is something wrong?

Having hung the clean laundry on the chrome rack, Kayla floundered for words, trying to find the right formulation. Hector noticed her nervously rubbing her palms.

— Mr. Cage, promise me you won’t hold this against me. I’m truly a bit embarrassed to bring this up, and yet…

— We are compelled to live under the same roof, so I promise I will keep myself composed.

Biting her lower lip, Kayla said:

— We embarked on this expedition, abandoning the benefits of civilization for a long time. Much on this submarine can replace a home, but there are things that are in no way dependent on your location. It’s already the third week we’ve been locked up in this vessel. But we are all living people, and there are certain needs that every healthy organism requires. And I wanted…

— I understand you, Miss Fox. And the fact that you wanted to talk to me about this — is it connected to…

— Well, you know, the Captain is military, and a commander, too. I’m uncomfortable with that idea. The First Officer is the commander’s chief assistant — same story. Tucker recently suffered from some illness. Henry’s injury from the collision hasn’t healed yet, and for me, this activity is the equivalent of an extreme sport. One needs to be perfectly healthy. And besides, as far as I’ve heard, you are divorced. What I mean is, you aren’t bound by marriage and…

— I agree.

— Excellent — Kayla exhaled with relief, smiling with all thirty-two straight, snow-white teeth. — If you don’t mind, let’s go to the cabin.

— Sure.

After sealing the hatch from within the women’s cabin, Hector suddenly remembered and said in a warning tone:

— Miss Fox, I must tell you that I didn’t anticipate this before the dive, so I didn’t bring…

— Oh, don’t worry — Kayla interrupted easily. — I am a biologist, after all, and I know a much more practical method. So you don’t need to be concerned about that.

Kayla spread her arms and added playfully:

— I won’t be fussy about your preferences.

With all the breath in his lungs, Hector fastened fiercely onto Kayla’s full lips. Just as intensely, he began to squeeze her buttocks with his splayed fingers, sliding his hands beneath her clothing. Kayla quickly peeled off her t-shirt, immediately after which Hector’s lips focused on her breasts, forcing him to remove his hands from her buttocks and hastily try to unhook her black lace bra.

— Jeans — Kayla uttered with quickened breaths, deciding that she would be able to expose her chest faster.

With careful, sliding movements of his palms, the ichthyologist lowered Kayla’s jeans, while she managed to grip the collar of his shirt. But she had to wait for him to straighten up.

Having already tumbled onto the bunk, with their bodies revealed — covered only by hair and skin — Hector was about to make his first move when he suddenly froze. Already prepared to feel that sensation again, Kayla indignantly asked, lifting her head from the pillow:

— What is it? Am I not turning you on?

— I just realized we’re about to have sex at a depth of nearly eight kilometers. That’s even more exciting.

Recalling this, Kayla instantly grew more aroused herself, tightening her grip with both thighs and raking her nails down Hector’s back for good measure.

Having excused himself from the makeshift kitchen cinema to use the facilities, Morgan was about to flush the toilet when he suddenly began to hear sounds. He listened more closely. The sounds were coming from the neighboring compartment. The First Officer pressed his ear to the bulkhead, and now satisfied female moans joined the creaking noises. Refusing to believe what was happening, the First Officer recoiled from the wall and shook his head in disgust, muttering angrily under his breath:

— Damn this long voyage!

After four bouts — performed under, over, behind, and in front of Kayla’s body — Hector lay half-dead, sprawled on his bunk, thinking how beneficial it sometimes was to abstain from animal urges only to briefly find oneself in paradise afterward.

Suddenly, there was a knock. The hatch opened. Hector figured it was his turn to take watch, especially since the timing was right. Captain De Bont entered the cabin. Placing a hand on the ichthyologist’s shoulder, he said quietly:

— Mr. Cage, follow me.

The Captain’s voice greatly alarmed Hector. The sounds of booming speakers could still be heard coming from the closed galley, but judging by the loud laughter, they were watching a comedy at the time. Moving a little distance from the galley, the customary silence returned, which usually filled the Control Room. Captain De Bont asked Hector to take his seat.

— The Commander’s Chair? — the ichthyologist said, puzzled, and sat down.

The Captain tapped the touchpad several times and, pointing at the screen, asked:

— What do you make of this?

Staring intently at the image, Hector said, bewildered and unable to hide his shock:

— Is that… a fin?

— That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. I thought you might shed some light on it.

Hector was flooded with mixed emotions. On one hand, waves of enthusiasm washed over him, along with the feeling that he had finally found the meaning of his existence; on the other, the sheer size of what appeared to be a fin — or at least resembled one — alarmed him.

As if stunned, Hector practically yelled:

— Wait. Is this a freeze-frame?

In that moment, Hector wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. Now he knew that traversing the ocean’s depths had not been in vain. He had found what he was looking for and what he had endured his intolerable job for these last couple of years. The ticket for this expedition felt as though it had been specially reserved for him long before they even set sail.

Without saying a word, Captain De Bont pressed a sensor key, and the video stream from the recording, made several hours ago, resumed on the screen. The ichthyologist looked at the recording time, which prompted a logical question:

— Why did you keep silent for so long?

The Captain provided an even more logical response:

— You perfectly well know the reason — and the activity — I didn’t want to distract you from.

Realizing the complete absurdity of the situation, Hector cleared his throat and brought the conversation back on topic.

— Rewind. I want to see it in motion.

The Captain replayed the excerpt from the recording.

— Is there anything from the other cameras?

— It moved through the blind spots.

Hector pressed pause where the fin was most clearly visible.

— Based on this part alone, can you make any initial assumptions?

— Well… — With visible anxiety and unprecedented scientific astonishment, Hector took a deep breath. — The only thing that can be theoretically assumed is the overall size. But that would be a very rough estimate.

— Well, what about something?

— We can only account for one thing here — the size of the fin, and it’s at least three meters long. In my estimation, the creature is twelve to fifteen meters. Minimum. We can also note the fin’s position; it’s in a horizontal plane. But that still doesn’t tell us much.

After a few seconds of silence, the ichthyologist added, still wearing a slight, euphoric grin:

— I would stop speculating here, were it not for the fact that something unknown scoured our submarine.

— Yes, Mr. Cage. I considered that as well.

— I bring it up because, given how violently we were shaken, if that was it, then my size estimate is vastly incorrect.

The smile on Hector’s face became noticeably wider.

— Could this be the tail of some — I don’t even know — dinosaur? How would it have survived the Ice Age?

In an attempt to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, Hector began to speculate. He reasoned with intense pleasure, still unable to believe this was happening to him in reality.

— In theory, hydrothermal vents could have provided these deep layers with enough heat to sustain a comfortable living environment. Even when the entire planet was covered with surface ice, the ocean depths were heated by thermal sources. At least, I can find no other explanation.

After a moment of reflection, the Captain said:

— Let’s proceed as follows. I will save these frames on your computer with the password «AMXXITVT.» And for now, this will remain strictly between us.

— Of course, Captain.

For six hours, Captain De Bont and Henry studied the three-dimensional images of the scanned hull of the Nazi U-boat. Judging by the outlines in the scans, the interior contained objects resembling individual components of old drilling rig models. Furthermore, it was clearly possible to discern the contours of items that strongly resembled mining carts and rail track elements.

Considering the analysis of the images, as well as the projected route from Germany to the wreck site, Captain De Bont ventured to state his assumptions regarding the true objective the Nazis were pursuing.

— Yes, Captain — Kayla said in an intrigued voice. — You mentioned you had some suspicions. Would you care to share? Satisfy our curiosity.

— I have no reason to conceal them. In 1938, the Third Reich began surveying and claiming territories in Antarctica, specifically in the area of Queen Maud Land. They even dispatched aircraft to scatter swastika pennants, effectively staking their claim to part of those lands. This territory was later named «New Swabia.» If rumors are to be believed, «Base 211» was established in New Swabia. Its exact purpose remains a subject of debate. But if you look at the map and assume that the U-116 started in northern Germany and moved through the North Sea, past Bergen and the Faroe Islands, then it sank at a point that was precisely along the sea communication route between Germany and Queen Maud Land. And the objects found inside were clearly intended for the development of new territories and research operations. I cannot judge the cause of the U-116’s sinking. The scan showed no serious breaches in the hull that torpedoes might have left.

— It’s astonishing that it wasn’t crushed at all at this depth — Tucker said.

— Most likely, numerous small damages throughout the boat were the factor. Apparently, because of this, air escaped the compartments, the cavities filled with water, and the hull remained intact. But, in any case, I think our employers will be very interested in this find. For now, our work here is done. We are packing up and moving on. Raise anchor!

Thirty-four hours later.

Captain De Bont was plagued by insomnia. He hadn’t slept for twenty-seven consecutive hours, and even now, lying in his cabin, he couldn’t fall asleep. His patience gone, he decided that if he couldn’t sleep, he should at least properly rouse himself. His feet carried him toward the galley in search of coffee. But before Luther could even open the hatch, the engineer appeared on the threshold.

— Captain, incoming signal.

Not immediately, but the Captain eventually asked the obvious question:

— Depth?

— Seven thousand nine hundred and twenty meters.

Luther thought he must have fallen asleep and that everything happening was nothing more than a dream.

Without waiting for the Captain’s verbal reaction, Henry added:

— Captain, I’m absolutely floored too. But the signal is genuinely being received.

Luther immediately hurried to the Control Room.

— Where is the signal originating from?

Morgan, standing at the Captain’s workstation, reported:

— Bearing one-two-five.

— Range?

— Unable to determine.

— Captain, permission to speak? — Henry said.

— Speak.

— Before you decide to respond to the signal, I must warn you that this is impossible even in theory. At this depth, a signal can only be received if its source is within a radius of no more than two kilometers. — Taking a momentary pause, Henry added cautiously: — It seems we are not alone here.

Hector and Tucker appeared in the compartment.

The Captain gave an order to the First Officer:

— Mute the microphone.

— Aye, aye.

— Now press «Receive.» Let’s see what kind of company we have.

The First Officer pressed the button to accept the incoming signal.

An intermittent acoustic stream began to emanate from the speakers. The sound was clear and distinct, but a large portion of the audio dropped out, as if the signal were passing through holes in the impulse stream.

Almost in a whisper, the Captain turned to the engineer:

— Henry, can you regulate the sound quality?

— I’ll try.

Henry walked over to the console, behind which was the repeater control panel, and began adjusting the frequencies.

The more Henry fine-tuned the repeater, the more the sound began to resemble speech. Clear. Dynamic. Articulate. Unfamiliar. The content of the message was repetitive, gaining new volume and intonation with each iteration, increasingly sounding like conscious speech.

The Captain continued to gaze impassively at one spot, listening intently to the acoustic stream. Leaning his arms on the instrument panel, he quietly asked the First Officer:

— What was the bearing you mentioned?

— One-two-five.

Without delay, the Captain commanded:

— Turn to bearing one-two-five.

— Aye, turn to one-two-five.

— All four engines, full speed ahead.

— Aye, full speed ahead.

— Keep to the bottom. Maintain clear visibility. We’ll proceed three kilometers. If we find nothing, we return to the starting point.

The Amphibia took a new bearing in search of the signal’s source. Having adjusted its direction, the submarine reached a maximum speed of thirty-five knots. All of its powerful searchlights were working. The hull sped along the floor of the Atlantic, the beams illuminating ever-new expanses of the abyssal plain, shrouded in pitch darkness.

Captain De Bont personally monitored the images from the bow cameras. The First Officer continued to track the strength and quality of the incoming signal and, after a kilometer, reported:

— Captain, the signal is intensifying.

— Excellent. Now we’ll see who the pioneer is here.

— CAPTAIN!!! — the paleontologist yelled, vigorously pointing toward the large display.

— All stop!

The Amphibia began to slow down abruptly, but by the time the braking distance was complete, the object was already behind the stern.

— Drop anchor.

— Aye, anchor dropped.

— Full screen image from the stern camera — Captain De Bont commanded.

— Image coming up — Henry reported.

A deathly silence fell over the compartment, but it did not last long.

— Well, well, well. The excursion is getting more and more interesting — Captain De Bont murmured, not tearing his fixed gaze from the screen.

Like a madman, Tucker screamed, unable to believe his eyes:

— Look! There, to the left! It can’t be! Remains!

— Henry, magnify that area — the Captain ordered.

— Just a moment. A couple of seconds. Is that enough?

Overjoyed, Tucker could not contain his emotions and slammed his palm onto the desk at his workstation. The reaction was far too severe. The paleontologist continued to scream, but now from pain. The bones throughout his right hand were fractured, as if they had been instantly crushed by a heavy weight the moment he struck the surface. The pain proved so intolerable that Tucker dropped to the floor, falling so sharply that his right femur cracked, which only intensified his screams.

— To the infirmary! — Captain De Bont commanded. Hector rushed over and helped escort Tucker to Dr. Moore.

Kayla rushed out of her laboratory, followed by Kate from the infirmary.

The doctor asked the Captain and the ichthyologist to place Tucker on the examination couch.

— What happened? — Dr. Moore shouted, simultaneously drawing an analgesic into a syringe.

— The thing is, nothing happened — Hector stammered in confusion.

— Miss Moore, we need to… — the Captain tried to interject, but Kate immediately cut him off:

— Help me strap him down.

The Captain and the ichthyologist quickly moved to secure the patient to the couch. The Captain let go of Tucker’s left forearm as quickly as he had grabbed it. The moment he took his arm, the bones crunched. Kate hurried to the ampoule drawers and retrieved not just a painkiller, but one with a powerful sedative effect.

After fifty minutes, Tucker Hughes’ painful moans subsided, and twenty-two minutes later, he was asleep. Dr. Moore rushed to take X-rays of his entire skeleton while he slept. Taking a blood sample from a vein became slightly problematic, as Kate no longer dared to tighten a tourniquet on his arm.

— Alright — Captain De Bont muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. — Let’s get back to work.

With that single word, the burst of activity ceased. Along with the Captain, Hector, Kayla, Morgan, and Henry continued to stand in the Control Room, watching the display.

— Alright, Henry, prepare the probes.

While the engineer was preparing the scanning equipment, Kayla said in bewilderment:

— And next to it… is that a humanoid skeleton?

Taking a deep breath, the Captain replied:

— I wish I knew.

— Um… Captain? — Henry asked.

— Yes?

— I can’t set the focus.

— And why not? — Captain De Bont asked, walking toward the engineer, who stood a meter from the main screen in front of the probe control panel.

— You’ll be surprised, but the probes don’t register the object.

— What could be the reason for that?

— Well… — Henry began hesitantly, fearing making an unsubstantiated claim — You and I are seeing the same thing. I mean, it’s not a hallucination. Therefore, I venture to suggest that this thing might be made of a substance not found on the periodic table. That’s the only sound explanation, because the probes only fail to register material they are unfamiliar with.

And once again the Captain sighed in displeasure, after which he gave the engineer the order:

— Then log the coordinates. Take a still image. Create a log entry with the following content: «Disc-shaped object of unknown origin and purpose. Parameters: 100—150 centimeters in thickness, approximately seven meters in diameter.» Log entry number two: «Humanoid skeleton, approximately one meter in length, with an elongated skull and eye orbits several times larger than human.» And also attach the recording of the received signal to these files.

While Hector and Kayla continued to stare at the objects that were shocking the cold scientific mind, the Captain turned to the First Officer:

— Raise anchor.

— Aye, anchor up.

— Start video recording and circle the area to capture it from all angles.

The engines began to work, and the Amphibia’s hull started to turn, when suddenly the Control Room was filled with a deafening sequence of sonar pings:

PING!!! PING!!! PING!!! PING!..

Morgan exclaimed:

— Captain! Sonar is tracking an object! Bearing three-two-zero! Twenty-six meters in length! Speed thirty knots! Range one thousand two hundred! It is coming straight toward us!

12. KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!!!

Just as loudly and firmly, Captain De Bont gave the order:

— All stop!

— Aye, all stop.

— Kill the searchlights!

— Searchlights off.

Alarming signals continued to emanate from the hydro-locator, keeping pace with the flickering signature.

Captain De Bont requested the next action:

— Display the images from the night vision cameras and thermal imagers!

— Images coming up — Henry replied a few seconds later this time.

— Switch the holographic platform to thermal mode! — the Captain added.

Henry quickly switched the holographic platform to a two-dimensional map, which displayed the ocean floor and its heat sources. As soon as the thermal mode was activated, Henry exclaimed:

— Captain, we have a thermal signature!

— What are these spots surrounding it? — Hector asked, approaching the holographic platform. — Hydrothermal vents?

— Yes. Those are static. But this one… see? It’s moving.

Once the hydro-locator signals began to sound at a lower frequency, the Captain’s commanding voice was heard:

— Morgan, sonar status?

— Eight hundred meters. Speed twenty-four knots.

The crew members continued to watch the images from the night vision and thermal cameras on the main screen, occasionally shifting their attention to the thermal mapping platform. The First Officer, meanwhile, reported the distance between the Amphibia and the object, which continued to decrease:

— Seven hundred meters… six-fifty… Speed dropping. Sixteen knots. Changing trajectory. Bearing three-one-three. Continuing to shift. Bearing two-nine-six. Range six hundred twenty. Turning around. Bearing three-zero-one. Range six hundred. It’s darting back and forth!

Captain De Bont felt a sudden, sharp urge to smoke — something strong and unfiltered. The craving for cigarettes had been fading for long months. But now it abruptly intensified, resurrecting the difficult state he had endured during the first days after Luther had firmly decided to quit nicotine. It had been especially rough back then, but with the passage of time, it had grown easier for Captain De Bont. He realized that the old habit reminded him of itself less and less each day, and that he was burying it deeper and deeper. Now his lungs burned with the desire to smoke like a locomotive. Captain De Bont reached into the side pocket of his trousers and found the last hard candy from the packet he had opened two days prior.

Even the loudest noises in the Control Room were drowned out by the engineer’s scream:

— VISUAL CONTACT!!!

Simultaneously, everyone turned their gaze to the main screen. The night vision cameras caught the object flickering on the horizon. Its speed was erratic. The object moved in various directions, darting up, then left, then right. It lunged downward several times, hugging the bottom as closely as possible. But one thing remained constant: slowly, it was still approaching the Amphibia XXI.

— Captain, — the First Officer whispered, — what are your orders?

— Do nothing. Everyone remain calm.

Unable to remain idle, the First Officer quietly stated:

— Range four hundred fifty.

— Morgan, stand down. I can see perfectly well myself.

As the object’s contours began to resolve, Kayla felt a lump rise in her throat, and her legs instantly grew weak. A tremor enveloped her knees and hips, and her body suddenly sagged. She leaned her full weight on the edge of the holographic platform. Henry now saw with his own eyes what had previously appeared as a black rectangle on the platform. Now, more than just a fin was visible. Every few seconds, Morgan interrupted his focus to glance at the Captain’s imperturbable face, hoping for instructions to take decisive action. Only Hector Cage examined the image on the screen with genuine, utterly professional scientific interest. He was mesmerized by the sight. Here it was — the subject of years of future work. He could now forget about scientific articles and monographs where he was forced to re-examine the bones of species already completely known.

The object ceased its approach to the Amphibia at a range of two hundred and eighty meters, beginning to circle the submarine while maintaining its distance. It appeared to trace a perfect circumference around a central point. This continued until it started moving in slow, chaotic motions in a single direction, gradually receding from the submarine. The hydro-locator signal began to sound at a lower frequency, and the signature continued moving toward the extreme boundary of the sonar.

The moment visual contact was broken, the ichthyologist rushed to his computer, driven by the intense desire to rewind the recording and examine the replay in the minutest detail. However, Captain De Bont looked at the ichthyologist, clenched his fists, and leaned on the holographic platform, saying:

— Mr. Cage, I take it a job has presented itself for you. But I am compelled to pull you away from your scientific pursuits to ask: what does your expertise suggest?

The sonar signature had already vanished, and the signal was interrupted. Kayla practically collapsed into a swivel chair.

Reluctantly, the ichthyologist approached the crew members and attempted to speak:

— Well, judging by its appearance… — Confused in his thoughts, Hector decided to start his analysis anew. His elevated heart rate still hadn’t subsided, and he could still feel his heart thumping against his ribs. He still couldn’t quite believe what his own eyes had witnessed. With a labored breath, he made a second attempt: — During the Eocene epoch — that is, roughly forty million years ago — a species of cetacean inhabited the world’s oceans, scientifically known as Basilosaurus. These were true predatory giants, the apex predators of their time. The creature we saw remotely bears a strong external resemblance to a Basilosaurus. But only externally. It even moves with the same serpentine motion in the vertical plane. Nevertheless, there are a number of compelling reasons to doubt that it is, in fact, one of them.

— Substantiate your claim — the Captain requested.

— Firstly, Basilosaurus had slender bones, and its vertebrae contained cavities. These two structural features alone would make survival at such depths impossible. The pressure is far too high. Secondly, there is the thermocline. Even if we concede that individuals of this species somehow underwent evolution and their biology experienced radical changes, it still wouldn’t guarantee a clear path to the ocean floor. The thermocline is an insurmountable obstacle. The waters in the mid-ocean layers are too cold — they’re simply icy and wouldn’t allow passage over such a great distance from the warm surface waters to the abyssal zone, where the water is warmed by thermal vents.

— So we know nothing about this creature?

— If I study the camera recordings, I might be able to determine something.

— Then I won’t detain you any longer — Captain De Bont said, before turning to the First Officer: — Morgan, when did we engage all the engines?

— When we received the acoustic signal…

— No, no. That’s not what I mean. How much time has elapsed?

— We maintained speed for seven minutes, at most. And a couple of hours have passed since we stopped — Mr. Hughes injured his hand, and that’s when we halted.

Scratching his unshaven chin, Captain De Bont attempted to build a logical chain, which led him to a question for the engineer:

— Henry, what is the minimum power required to get underway?

— At least two main thrusters are needed. The auxiliary engines alone are insufficient to move the sub. Accounting for power draw from life support, lighting, the Control Room, and various minor systems, we could potentially reduce the reactor’s power output to sixty percent of its normal operating capacity. However, I would recommend setting it to seventy. Because if any of the electronics burn out…

— I read you — the Captain cut in. — Then set the limits.

Henry hurried to execute the order, heading to the Engine Room, while the Captain addressed the rest:

— Alright, a moment of attention. Here is how we will proceed. Any non-essential, non-vital equipment on board is to be shut down. Any electrical appliance: the television, the coffee maker, even the electric stove. We will consume only what requires no thermal preparation. — After a few seconds, Captain De Bont added in a calm tone: — This is why I despise civilian vessels. They are defenseless.

— You have some theories, don’t you — Kayla said with a measure of certainty.

She looked at the Captain with suspicion. The expression on Kayla’s face suggested she regarded Captain De Bont as a kind of evil genius who had uncovered the secret of the universe, and now the whole world could be at his feet, let alone some uninvited deep-sea guest.

— Yes, I have theories, Miss Fox. We were running at full throttle. The thrusters were working at maximum power. Apparently, this creature is capable of detecting an electromagnetic pulse, and it was drawn to the source of that impulse. Alternatively, it possesses highly developed echolocation organs and navigates by sound.

At that moment, the biologist sharply straightened her posture in her chair, as if struck by a revelation, and asked:

— Were the searchlights on when we were hit?

— Yes. Why do you ask?

— In that case, I believe your hypothesis is well-founded. The fact is, a living organism that inhabits such depths in total darkness for a long time will eventually undergo mutation. Its eyes will adapt to the lack of light, and its vision will become hypersensitive. If this trait is genetically determined, it’s even more likely. In that scenario, any strong light exposure could cause blindness. If it was this creature that attacked us then, it most likely was blinded by the glare of the searchlights.

Immediately raising his voice, the Captain turned to the ichthyologist, who was scrutinizing the video frames with an intensity equal to that of a gamer pulling an all-nighter to beat a level, acquire a new weapon, return to base on time, and locate the lair of the living dead.

— Mr. Cage, your thoughts?

Kayla had to restate her hypothesis, which Hector commented on without hesitation:

— And I, for one, would not dismiss that possibility. As soon as all the equipment was shut down, it began to slow down and then became completely disoriented in its direction. While no one can guarantee this, it is entirely plausible. We would only be mistaken if this individual possessed nictitating membranes, which act as a filter to reduce the sensitivity of the visual organs. Some species of modern reptiles possess them. — After a brief pause, Hector continued: — Yes, and one more thing. If we assume that our visitor shares a common ancestry with the Basilosaurus, then your theory is absolutely correct. Basilosaurus lacked echolocation organs. Locating an object at such a distance would only be possible through hypersensitivity to electromagnetic waves or vibrations.

— Excellent. That’s at least a starting point — Captain De Bont concluded.

After the engineer reported the system reconfiguration was complete, the Captain gave the order to the First Officer:

— Morgan, monitor the sonar. Let me know the moment the signal reappears. Visual contact is only through night vision equipment. No searchlights. — The Captain then immediately glanced around and addressed the others: — We’ll wait until this creature moves farther away. We resume our journey in half an hour. Where is Miss Fox? — the Captain uttered the final phrase in confusion.

From somewhere in the corridor came a deafening, hysterical scream.

13. ALPHA-1

Kayla literally flew out of the infirmary. She left the room so quickly that, tripping over the threshold, she fell headlong to the deck. Scrabbling with all her limbs, she managed a few steps on all fours before bolting forward, utterly heedless of where she was going. The main thing was to get as far away as possible.

The Captain, Henry, Morgan, and Hector rushed into the infirmary. Upon entering, their eyes were involuntarily drawn to the right, through the open doorway. The scene was utterly repulsive. Dr. Kate Moore stood motionless, her arms dangling at her sides. But this was only an illusion. In reality, she was neither standing nor feeling any solid support beneath her. She was suspended by a limb covered in a disgusting, viscous slime. What had been Tucker Hughes just hours earlier had a death grip on Kate’s neck, having thrust a meter-long tongue, covered with numerous tiny teeth, into her oral cavity. With its fanged tongue, the creature was eviscerating Dr. Moore’s body. Sensing a presence, the thing formerly known as Tucker began to retract its fanged, meter-long tongue, which slithered out of the doctor’s mouth like a python, coated in fresh blood and its own viscous saliva, stretching to the deck and dripping from Kate’s chin. It released its hold on Kate’s neck, and the doctor’s eviscerated body dropped like a dead weight onto the floor of the isolation bay. The thud of the falling corpse echoed.

Infected with Alpha-1 particles, Tucker turned its face toward the exit, where someone was standing at the threshold. It was unclear by what sensory organs Tucker registered the people’s presence. Its pupils were gone. Its eyeballs had rolled back so that the pupils were hidden behind the upper lids, and the whites were covered with a murky gray film, beneath which pale blue sclera were visible. Fingernails were absent. The skin on its face, hands, and feet began to slough off, exposing bloody-colored internal tissue. Its legs moved, taking small steps toward the exit. Lifting from the deck, the foot left behind an abundant trail of a semi-liquid consistency, which had been continuously flowing since the skin peeled away. Where the heels had been, bones protruded, resembling those of raptors used for grasping prey. Its right arm was now entirely devoid of skin from the elbow to the fingertips; though what was there now could scarcely be called fingers. It was something more akin to talons, but with webbing. Blood-stained teeth lay on the floor, replaced by a giant tongue with a thousand teeth of its own. This tongue, now several times thicker, began to glide through the air toward the exit. As if replacing eyes, it moved, guided by some scent.

Without hesitation, Captain De Bont slammed the door shut, dogging the hatch. The predatory tongue struck the round viewport of high-strength plastic with monstrous force, leaving a bloody streak.

Without uttering a word, the Captain left the infirmary and moved toward the bow of the Amphibia. He ran past the Control Room, heading for his cabin. From the safe, Luther retrieved a Beretta 92 and hurried back. Reaching the corridor again, he glanced involuntarily to the side. Huddled in the corner on the deck sat Kayla. Her arms were locked around her bent knees, her shoulders trembled, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

Captain De Bont returned with a determined stride.

Kayla continued to sob and subconsciously listened to the fading sound of the Captain’s footsteps retreating to the opposite end of the sub. When the footsteps completely died down, she heard the voices of some crew members. The paralyzing shock prevented her from making out the content of the conversation in the infirmary. Soon, the Captain’s exclamation was heard, immediately followed by a deafening crack that made Kayla jump. Then a second. A third. Four shots, which shook the entire sub, were fired so rapidly that they sounded more like an automatic burst. The sound of a closing door was heard. The stomping grew. Soon the figure of Captain De Bont reappeared at the corridor’s entrance.

The commanding officer squatted down and set the Beretta on the deck. There was a clang of steel. The Captain leaned in, trying to speak as gently as possible:

— Miss Fox. Miss Fox, look at me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s all over now. Don’t be afraid. The danger is past.

The biologist’s condition hadn’t changed at all. She was still shaking violently. Captain De Bont began rubbing her shoulders with his palms and spoke even more calmly:

— Kayla, listen. Fear is normal. This will pass. I didn’t expect this either. — The Captain recalled that he had strawberry-scented moist wipes on his person. He took one out and began gently wiping the tears from Kayla’s cheeks, trying to keep the wipe as close to her nose as possible so the scent would enter her lungs. He sat down next to her, continuing to gently hold the wipe under her nose. — I’m a military man, and, I confess, I’ve seen many things that the general public isn’t supposed to know about. But even I was on the verge of losing it at the sight of that. What can I say about you? Anyone would be terrified. Some people barely manage to hold it together when they almost crash into oncoming traffic, and you survived this. Now, no bailiffs will ever scare you. Tell me I’m wrong. I’m here with you. Morgan, Hector, Henry — everyone is alive and well. You are not alone. There’s no need to be afraid.

The First Officer approached. Noticing him, the Captain said:

— Find some chocolate and a couple of bananas.

Captain De Bont knew the perfect prescription for lowering heart rate during moments of stress. The pleasant aroma of strawberries, which Kayla was inhaling along with the oxygen, had already significantly reduced her heart rate. By touching her, the Captain could feel that the tremor in her shoulders had already subsided. The bananas and chocolate were intended to amplify and stabilize the effect for a while by directly influencing the body’s chemistry.

— Have you ever fired a weapon?

— Mm-mm — Kayla mumbled a negative through compressed lips.

— Would you like to try?

Kayla did not answer. Her head rested against the Captain’s shoulder. Morgan brought what the Captain had requested, placed it nearby on the deck, and used his facial expression to convey to Captain De Bont that he urgently needed to speak. The Captain motioned for him to wait in the Control Room.

— What’s the situation here? — asked Captain De Bont, stepping into the infirmary.

— You’d better see for yourself — the First Officer replied.

The toothy python was pounding the door’s viewport with such force that three cracks had already appeared in the plastic circle, and it seemed that any moment it would shatter into fragments.

Maintaining his imperturbable composure, Captain De Bont asked the engineer:

— Henry, do we have a welding unit?

— Yes, we do.

— Then find a sheet of metal — something sturdy. Grab the welding unit and seal it up.

Suddenly, to the Captain’s own surprise, Kayla entered the infirmary. She walked over to the table where the microscope, centrifuge, and blood samples were kept. The biologist took the containers with the blood of the creature that had been in Isolation Bay Number Two, then picked up the portable X-ray unit and, with a completely steady gait, retired to her laboratory.

Captain De Bont followed her and, upon entering, said:

— Miss Fox, you seem quite chipper, as I see it. You certainly recover fast.

Setting the X-ray unit down on the table, she said:

— Captain, may I ask a favor of you?

— Take a shot.

Kayla recognized the playful note in the Captain’s voice, but her grimace did not change in the slightest.

— From now on, call me Kayla.

— As you wish, Kayla.

Leaning his hand on the plastic shelving, the Captain asked:

— By all appearances, you know something the rest of us don’t?

This question didn’t faze the biologist in the least. She answered in a firm, calm tone:

— I suddenly realized that Mr. Hughes could only have transformed into that creature in one case — by coming into contact with some pathogen that is poorly studied, with unpredictable consequences. There can be only one source of such a pathogen on our sub. What if he came into contact with that fossil after all, without realizing it? I intend to find out.

— And the X-ray unit?

— I want to connect it to the computer and examine the images enlarged. It’s some information, regardless. Maybe it will yield something.

With narrowed eyes, the Captain assessed Kayla’s expression. Without saying a word, he left the laboratory.

— We’ll wait until this creature moves farther away. We resume our journey in half an hour. Where is Miss Fox? — the Captain asked.

Kayla had approached the infirmary and opened the door to inquire about the paleontologist’s condition. Dr. Kate Moore was not inside. The isolation bay where Tucker lay was secured. Kayla noticed the centrifuge on the table with tubes filled with the patient’s blood samples. Looking around, Kayla entered, trying to do everything as quickly as possible. She jogged to the table for the test tubes when she suddenly noticed that the isolation room door was not fully dogged, and through the crack came an unhealthy, barely audible animal growl. Kayla placed her fingers on the door handle to slightly widen the gap between the frame and the door. That very small gap was enough for her eyes to confirm what was happening. She forgot about the blood sample tubes, bolted from the infirmary, and reflexively jerked her hand, leaving the door wide open.

Morgan and Henry finished welding the infirmary’s viewport, applying a three-millimeter-thick sheet of chrome steel that had previously served as a door covering an electrical panel. Hector continued scrutinizing the enlarged still frames of the video recording. The Captain monitored the instrument readings and sonar data, setting the Amphibia to creep speed. The submarine continued along its planned route.

Two hours later, after the biologist had concluded her analysis of the medical data, Captain De Bont gathered the remaining crew in the Control Room.

— So, today has been an exceptionally difficult day. We’ve lost two colleagues. We’ve encountered an underwater monster and another that has taken up residence right here on board, one that is impervious to lead. It’s clear that many of you would like to consider making adjustments to our future plan of action. But to avoid making hasty decisions in the heat of the moment, we must first understand exactly what we’re dealing with. Let’s hope that Mr. Cage and Ms. Fox can provide some clarity so we can piece together a more complete picture of what happened. As I said, we’re facing two problems, one of which is located right here on our sub. We’ll start with that, I suppose. Kayla, what did you manage to find out?

Standing against the backdrop of the active screen, Kayla began her presentation:

— Most importantly, my fears were confirmed. Mr. Hughes’s blood contains traces of the bacteria that were found in the fossil fragment we recovered. It’s unclear how, where, or when, but he definitively came into contact with the find. — At that moment, Kayla began to rub her earlobe, then cleared her throat. — Once inside the host, these microorganisms began to create copies of themselves. Subsequently, these cellular copies began to interact with Tucker’s cells. The foreign cells contain forty-six chromosomes — twenty-three pairs. Humans have the same number. From the moment these microorganisms began to multiply, their copies, in turn, began to divide, but they formed two haploid cells from one diploid cell. In other words, the chromosome count in the new cells was halved. The same process began in Tucker’s cells. Then his cells and the copies of the foreign bacteria began to merge. The chromatids of the two different organisms fused, and the original number of chromosomes was restored. Thus, new cells with a new DNA emerged. A new organism was formed — a hybrid of a human and some unknown species. — Kayla took a short pause, swallowed the lump in her throat, and continued: — But the interesting thing is that the original ’mother cells’ that created the copies never divided; they remained as they were. They created the copies so that they could merge with the host organism’s cells and modify the environment into one more suitable for them. Once this occurred, they began to feed in this environment, absorbing certain chemical substances that only a living organism can secrete. When the habitat exhausted itself as a food source, the hybrid cells began to live independently, while the mother cells started moving toward the skeleton, passing through bone tissues and penetrating from one bone to another throughout the skeletal structure until they reached areas containing bone marrow. For development, they require a living organism to parasitize and feed upon, but for survival in the absence of food, they require stem cells. These are abundant in bone marrow. Stem cells are immature; they can self-renew, divide, and differentiate into cells for various organs. By gaining access to this environment, these bacteria severely slow down their metabolism, guaranteeing their survival for hundreds of millions — billions — of years. This is why Tucker’s skeleton began to disintegrate. I zoomed in on the X-ray images, and the computer clearly shows microscopic spots in places on the skeleton. The parasite’s mother cells compromised the integrity of the bone tissues, thereby sharply reducing their strength. The fossil we recovered from the ocean floor… it appears it was a part of a skeleton that contained bone marrow, and its former owner was similarly turned into food for these parasites, just like Mr. Hughes.

— This is all very fascinating, of course, — the Captain said, — but tell me, how do we dispose of it? It’s not afraid of gunfire.

— You… — Kayla stammered — you want to kill it?

— Yes, Kayla. I intend to eliminate it. I won’t allow any contagion to roam freely on this vessel. So, speak your mind.

Taking a breath, Kayla replied:

— As I mentioned, the skeleton fragment we discovered most likely had bone marrow inside. In this way, the pathogen provided itself with stem cells, which allowed it to slow its metabolism. The bacteria essentially «froze.» But they didn’t leave the skeleton because that’s how they preserve their existence. To exist outside of living matter, they need oxygen. Perhaps some component of the air. I can’t say for sure. But it’s known that the absence of air is lethal for them. Most likely, this suggests these microorganisms are adapted for a terrestrial environment. I placed several samples in a vacuum chamber. They ceased activity, and when I repressurized the air, nothing changed. They died.

Realizing that this problem would require prolonged analysis for a solution, Captain De Bont let out a deep sigh:

— Well, alright. Mr. Cage. What can you tell us?

— In short, my assumptions have been further substantiated. In one of the still frames, I observed an impressive fin on our fish, positioned almost above its head. It is not a Basilosaurus.

— Mr. Cage, my question for you is the same as for your colleague. I am not interested in the unique local fauna. I need to know the weaknesses of this…

The Captain’s speech was interrupted by the First Officer’s drawn-out scream:

— CAPTAIN!

Morgan’s voice was immediately replaced by the sharp signal sounds of the sonar:

Ping! Ping! Ping!..

14. GALLOP ALONG THE ATLANTIC

— That creature has way too keen a sense of… — Captain De Bont blurted out nervously, while the First Officer, meanwhile, reported the data from the sonar screen:

— Bearing one-seven-one. Speed twenty-four knots. Range one thousand one hundred fifty. It’s coming right for us.

— All engines stop.

— All engines stop, aye.

Hector and Kayla stared at the main monitor, which displayed images from the night vision gear. With a storm of fear gripping her chest, Kayla expected to see the ancient predator surface on the screen, rushing to feast on her guts. Hector, meanwhile, was burning with impatience to see it close-up and examine every detail of the aquatic creature unknown to science. He was plagued by the thought that after returning from such an expedition, he would lose all desire to study even four-meter great white sharks.

Henry watched the Captain intently, trying to figure out exactly what the vessel’s commander was attempting to discern on the thermal chart. At one point, he noticed a grimace cross the Captain’s face, suggesting that an epiphany had struck him and he had hatched a plan.

Morgan continued to announce the instrument readings:

— Range nine-fifty. Speed twenty-four knots.

Accompanied by the acoustic signal, the elongated signature on the sonar screen continued to track directly toward the Amphibia.

— Range eight-fifty. Speed twenty-four knots. Range eight hundred… seven-fifty. Speed is increasing. Twenty-five knots. Twenty-six. — Morgan continued, his tone slightly elevated: — Twenty-seven. Twenty-nine!

Shaking himself out of his concentration, Captain De Bont switched to a truly commanding voice, the kind appropriate for a genuine naval vessel:

— Engineer! Override reactor limitations!

The sonar signal intensified and sounded more frequently.

PING!!! PING!!! PING!!!

The range was shrinking rapidly, and the contact refused to slow down its speed, which had already reached thirty knots, and appeared to be its maximum.

— Limitations overridden! — Henry reported.

— First Officer! New course zero-seven-one! Main and auxiliary engines, flank speed! Maximum power!

Morgan was instantly immersed in pleasant memories of the previous year, when, under the keen direction of his charismatic Captain, he had launched live rounds, hitting one target after another. Captain De Bont’s loud, commanding tone seemed to miraculously strip away his fear of the danger. Somehow, he instantly composed himself, grew bolder, and swiftly carried out the orders. It reached the point where Morgan mentally regretted that the Amphibia carried no torpedoes, because he would have eagerly awaited the Captain’s command «SALVO!», fulfilling which would have made him feel like an incredibly cool guy who could utterly destroy enemy targets with a single button press. As he accelerated the sub, the Captain approached and bellowed, just as he did in the best moments of their service:

— I SAID FLANK SPEED, SOLDIER! PEDAL TO THE METAL!!!

— Pedal to the metal, aye!

The rest of the crew stared at them as if they were mad, yet at the same time, the Captain’s decisive and bold behavior lessened their anxiety about their own safety.

The Captain continued issuing instructions, preparing the groundwork for his cunning plan:

— Engineer! Switch roll, yaw, and trim to manual control!

The Amphibia accelerated like a rocket, but even as it approached its maximum speed of thirty-five knots, the pursuing contact had managed to significantly close the gap.

— Captain, roll, yaw, and trim are on manual control! — Henry shouted amid the extreme situation.

Morgan’s voice followed, his vocal cords strained to their limit:

— Range two hundred meters! One hundred fifty!..

The left eye failed when an unnaturally bright light crossed its path. But this did not impede the pursuit. The right eye, blinded by only sixty percent, maintained a visual field of up to one hundred and fifty degrees, which allowed it to navigate without being completely blind. Yet even this eye was unnecessary for tracking such prey. An intensely powerful impulse emanated from that location. It could have been another predatory giant that had immigrated to these waters in search of food. But its territory had to be defended to the last. Such was the natural order dictated by animal instinct.

The source of the impulse was already close. Only a short distance remained.

— One hundred meters!

— Full speed ahead! Full speed! Full speed! — commanded Captain De Bont.

The flashing target marker on the screen moved closer to the center. The instruments indicated the Amphibia was holding a speed of twenty-four knots and continuing to accelerate. Observing the range dynamics between the sub and the predatory creature, Captain De Bont bellowed the order:

— Everyone, brace for impact!

Henry, Kayla, and Hector scrambled into their seats, quickly cinching their safety harnesses.

The First Officer’s voice rang out:

— Fifty meters! Twenty-five! Ten! IMPACT!

The Amphibia’s entire hull was violently thrown upward, like a cork popping from a bottle. At the moment of the hit, a fire extinguisher tumbled from its rack. It clattered onto the deck and slid forward across the listing cabin. From astern came a series of deafening metallic bangs — the sound of unsecured compartment hatches slamming shut, rattling as though caught in a tremendous draft. The walls of the Control Room began to groan. The grinding sound grew so severe it seemed the hull plating would rupture. Captain De Bont, straining and groaning, wrestled the helm with all his might, attempting to reduce the down-angle and restore the Amphibia’s level trim. Amid the flurry of incredible noises, they could faintly hear Kayla’s screams and the First Officer’s shouted obscenities. A tragedy would have been unavoidable if the crew seating hadn’t been bolted to the deck.

The hull gradually returned to a level trim. The Captain continuously monitored the speed indicator. At a certain point, he noticed that while trying to regain speed, the Amphibia could not exceed the twenty-two knot mark.

— What’s the problem! — the Captain yelled, addressing the Engineer.

— We’ve lost the port auxiliary thruster! And that creature has badly bent one blade on the main starboard propeller!

The single, barely-functioning eye feebly tried to make out the outsider. This predator moved extremely fast, yet made no discernible movements with its limbs. It appeared highly unusual. It sensed how quickly the outsider was accelerating, but it had to spare no effort to prevent its escape. It approached from the right flank, attempting to latch its sharp teeth into the belly, but its front left fin snagged something and began to be pulled in. What was it? It felt as though it had not managed to damage the outsider, yet the familiar scent of blood suddenly arose. It was its own blood. It had never before experienced the taste of its own blood. It had never sustained an injury. The only blood it had ever tasted belonged to its countless victims. A creature that had lived for more than two millennia had sustained its first wound. The pain forced it to reduce speed. The faster it attempted to move, the more unbearable the pain became. And the source of the irritating impulse began to diminish.

— It got hit too! — shouted Hector, observing the night vision camera feed. — Look at that. Blood. Like clouds of smoke, trailing behind it.

— Captain, the contact is moving away! — Morgan reported. — Range eighty meters. One hundred meters. One hundred twenty-five meters…

Captain De Bont left the vessel moving at the same speed on its current course and approached the main screen.

— It’s changing course. Range is increasing. Two hundred meters. Two hundred fifty. Three hundred…

The irritating impulse emanating from the outsider weakened but did not cease. These waves tormented it. Striving to overcome the crippling pain in its fin, it desperately surged toward the target, intent on sending the intruder to the bottom once and for all.

— It’s turning around. Range two hundred fifty meters. — The contact signature once again headed toward the center of the screen, indicating the Amphibia’s position. — Two hundred meters. One hundred fifty…

— No one leaves their seat! — commanded Captain De Bont, returning to his chair and scanning the map for the specific point he was aiming for. The Amphibia’s depth had already exceeded eight thousand one hundred fifty meters. The Captain stopped checking the instruments and stared intently at the screen showing the forward view in night vision mode. Instead of watching the readings himself, he addressed the First Officer:

— Morgan, you report the depth level.

— Eight thousand one hundred seventy meters.

Without reducing speed, the Captain increased the negative trim, moving parallel to the slope of the ocean floor. The only thing he occasionally glanced at was the thermal map, to ensure the sub was on the correct course. Hydrothermal vents (black smokers) began to appear somewhere on the horizon. The submarine was pushing its damaged limits, maxing out at twenty-two knots. The contact continued to close the range, but not as rapidly this time.

— Eight thousand two hundred meters.

— What’s the range?

— Range one-thirty. Depth eight thousand two hundred fifty.

The Captain continued leading the Amphibia deeper.

Morgan blindly followed his commander’s demands, without reflecting on the true objective. For the first time in twenty-two years, Kayla instinctively began reciting the Lord’s Prayer, though she only vaguely remembered the contents of the words. Hector remained glued to the screen, trying to make out details of the pursuing predator. However, this was highly difficult due to the large stream of bubbles emanating from the damaged propellers, which were being spun by a strong flow of compressed air. Henry was the only one who suspected the Captain’s intentions involved an unhealthy and extremely unjustified risk.

— Eight thousand three hundred. Eight thousand three hundred fifty.

The Amphibia passed over the junction of tectonic plates. Hydrothermal vents boiled, flashing by on either side, one after another. Dozens of jets of superheated air erupted from the depths into the ocean.

— Eight thousand four hundred. — The moment arrived when Morgan looked at the instrument readings with a shudder. Goosebumps covered his entire body. A slight tremor ran across his shoulders. — Eight thousand four hundred fifty. Captain, we’re nearing crush depth.

Maintaining an unperturbed expression, Captain De Bont glanced at the thermal map once more and said loudly:

— Morgan, stow it! I asked for the depth!

Morgan felt a lump rise in his throat. Swallowing with difficulty, he voiced the maximum permissible depth the Amphibia’s hull was rated for, according to the designers:

— Eight thousand five hundred.

The twenty-six-meter predator was not falling behind. Not as quickly, perhaps, but it continued to close the range, which had already shrunk to seventy meters.

The hydrothermal vents grew more frequent, and their size increased.

The First Officer himself could not believe what he was saying:

— Eight thousand five hundred fifty.

The Captain increased the negative trim by another three degrees.

— Eight thousand six hundred.

A noise sounded from outside — as if a vise were tightening. The Amphibia’s speed slid to nineteen knots. Fifty meters separated the stern from the underwater monster.

— Eight thousand six hundred fifty.

They say «nerves of steel.» Anyone who was next to Captain De Bont in those moments realized there are also «titanium nerves.» The Captain was clearly playing games with death, and the risk of failure, which increased with every meter of descent, instilled no fear in him.

The speed dropped to sixteen knots.

A noticeable tremor was audible in Morgan’s voice.

— Eight thousand seven hundred.

A metallic crash from outside made the entire crew scream, save for the one who was willing to accept such risks for the sake of his objective. Looking at his computer screen, which displayed information about the sub’s current status, Henry yelled:

— CAPTAIN! HULL DEFORMATION!

— Hang in there, sweetheart! — the Captain whispered affectionately, as if addressing a woman. — Just a little longer. Almost…

The hull began to vibrate where the plating was located.

At a depth of eight thousand seven hundred twenty meters, a gigantic hydrothermal vent loomed dead ahead. An immense torrent of superheated air was bursting into the watery expanse.

Speed dropped to fourteen knots. Twenty-four meters separated the Amphibia from the monster.

The moment of truth had arrived! Captain De Bont slightly reduced speed, banked the hull slightly to port, and shifted the trim to the stern, pitching the bow sharply upward. With his next action, the Captain put the sub into the sharpest possible turn to port, narrowly avoiding the hydrothermal vent. The predator, at full speed, plunged into the monstrous current of superheated air, and the Captain screamed at the top of his lungs:

— DIE!!!

The Amphibia moved upward. The depth decreased, and the speed gradually increased. The hull stopped shuddering, and Morgan continued, his voice trembling, but now with relief:

— Captain, permission to confess.

— Confess what?

— I’m a coward.

The Captain immediately asked:

— Are your trousers dry?

— For now, yes.

— Then why such a hasty conclusion — Captain De Bont added with a smirk.

Everyone collectively sighed with relief and exclaimed about how their lives had just hung in the balance.

The Captain unbuckled his harness and headed toward the platform, asking Henry to display the holographic map of the ocean floor.

Suddenly, the ichthyologist’s measured voice was heard:

— It’s too early to celebrate.

Moving with a confident, businesslike stride toward the holo-platform, Captain De Bont retorted:

— I dislike your pessimism, Mr. Cage. Or do you doubt my abilities?

— It’s not that easy to kill.

— And you’ll tell me why, of course?

Folding his hands in front of him, the ichthyologist stated firmly:

— When it flew past the starboard side and entered the thermal vent, I switched to the hull camera and saw it in close-up. Point blank. Its body is covered not in scales, nor in some super-dense hide. It is covered in armor plating. Firstly, this explains how it withstands such pressure. And since it is clearly not a Basilosaurus, it is likely it lacks internal air cavities. This also supports its resilience to extreme pressure. And secondly, armor of that magnitude could well protect it from the high temperature. At least for a few seconds, long enough for it to escape the thermal vent.

— You are slow to discover everything — the Captain said indignantly.

Their dialogue was interrupted by the First Officer’s anxious voice:

— Captain, contact activity to port! Bearing two-zero-nine. Range four hundred fifteen meters. Speed THIRTY KNOTS!!!

Stunned, Captain De Bont glued himself to the screen and, without taking his eyes off the flashing signature, addressed the ichthyologist:

— Mr. Cage, I understand why it’s still alive. But perhaps you can tell me why this thing is so invigorated?

Hector maintained a calm tone:

— Nothing surprising. It was moving slowly because of the bleeding wound. The thermal vent cauterized it. The blood flow has stopped, so it’s acting as if it’s on a stimulant.

The Captain once again switched to his loud, commanding voice, returning to his seat and securing his harness:

— Everyone stay put! Morgan, what is the depth?

— Eight thousand three hundred seventy meters!

— Watch the range! — The Captain closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and found the strength to pronounce: — Prepare for collision. The creature will catch us.

Simultaneously, Captain De Bont squeezed the maximum twenty-two knots out of the damaged propellers, pitching the bow upward by twenty degrees. The Amphibia was ascending, striving to avoid exceeding crush depth in case of system failure.

— One hundred fifty meters!

The Captain’s final words plunged the crew into the brutal reality that awaited them in the next minute. Only Hector Cage was spared such thoughts. In fact, he barely registered the Captain’s words. All his attention was focused on the ancient monster pursuing the sub, which in appearance closely resembled a Basilosaurus — a prehistoric cetacean predator. But it was not. This deep-ocean dweller was five meters longer, possessed an extra fin above its head, and had armor plating comparable to genuine battle armor. It didn’t even move its four legs, which resembled the flippers of sea turtles. The snake-like movements of its long spine in the vertical plane gave it insane speed. It was closing on the Amphibia effortlessly. The Captain had warned the crew what to expect. His «underwater bird» was damaged, and its top speed had dropped by a full thirteen knots, while this creature required no energy or propellers to accelerate from a standstill to higher speeds.

— One hundred meters!

Hector looked directly at the screen, where the predator’s sharply discernible outlines were now visible through the aft night vision camera.

— Fifty meters!

— COME ON, YOU BEAUTY! — Captain De Bont bellowed, pleading with the Amphibia not to give up and to gain speed. But twenty-two knots on the indicators was her absolute limit.

— Twenty-five meters! Ten!..

There it was — the outsider, fleeing, not moving a single part of its body, only releasing a stream of bubbles from the rear, where some round object spun without cease. This irritated it.

The wound no longer pained it severely. It could have rammed the stern with its snout, but it decided to dispense with formalities and engage in a full-fledged fight. It swam another fifteen meters forward, then dove headfirst. Its body coiled as tightly as its skeleton would permit. The spring was taut. A wide, powerful tail rushed directly toward the center of the outsider’s hull, cleaving the water in its path.

— Twenty-five meters! Ten! IMPACT!!!

It felt as if the Amphibia had been resting on solid ground when a full nine-magnitude earthquake struck — except all that power was concentrated on one specific point, leaving the Amphibia like a building whose foundations had been ripped away.

Sparks rained down across the Control Room. Everything not bolted down flew violently around the cabin. The hull plating shuddered once more. The crew’s panicked screams were drowned out by the noise of the sub’s deforming hull. From deeper within the vessel came the loud, ringing sounds of unsecured compartment doors slamming shut.

BAM!!! — another impact. This time, on the starboard side closer to the bow.

The Engineer’s chair ripped free of its mounting. Henry was flung aside like a feather. The sub began to tilt sharply toward the bow. All unsecured objects hurtled downward, past the Control Room. Henry and his chair were trapped in the passageway between the Control Room and the ladder leading to the main hatch. His harness snagged on a steel pipe. The buckle was jammed. The Engineer looked up and saw the door to the women’s stateroom dangling from a single hinge. It seemed poised to succumb to gravity and crash down directly onto his head. Captain De Bont unfastened his own harness and leaped across the passage to the opposite side where the Engineer was suspended. The Captain pulled the harness straps outward, creating space for Henry to crawl free of the chair, which he began to do, scrambling his legs in a panic, when suddenly…

BAM!!!

Yet another impact, which sent Henry flying from the chair due to inertia. Clinging to a section of the hull with one hand, the Captain managed to grab Henry at the last second, preventing him from hitting his head again. The stateroom door ripped from its final hinge and hurtled downward like a cannonball. Captain De Bont shoved Henry away from him with all his strength. The Engineer tumbled into the relative shelter of the workspace, away from the passageway. Pushing the Engineer, the Captain himself felt intense pressure on his body, flattening himself against the inner hull plating. Spinning with monstrous velocity, the loose door flew down the passage, thunderously scraping the floor, ceiling, and walls, which had lost their habitual orientation and been transformed into a vertical chute.

— POWER TO ZERO!!! — the Captain yelled.

Henry began scrambling up the wall, like a rock climber, making his way toward the reactor’s central control panel. Ripping off the cover, he panicked, momentarily unable to locate the fabled red button — the kind that launches nuclear bombs for some, but cuts the power for others.

The subsequent impact struck the stern and was much weaker. But it was enough to prevent the Engineer from hitting the button. With a groan, he gripped the edge of the control panel with his last ounces of strength. The submarine shuddered, and the lights died. Screens stopped relaying external images. All lights extinguished. Every compartment was plunged into deep darkness. Hearts hammered faster. Breathing quickened. The fear continued to swell. Robbed of their sight, all crew members listened intently to the sounds. The engines had stalled. A crazy vibration coursed through the hull. By feel alone, everyone understood the hull was smoothly changing orientation. A sound of rolling equipment and a slamming door could be heard somewhere in the bow. As soon as the vibration subsided, loud, adrenaline-fueled gasps became clearly audible in the Control Room.

Every crew member was clinging tightly to whatever they could grasp. The submarine continued to shift its attitude. By the direction of gravity, it was becoming clear that the deck was settling back into being the deck, and the ceiling the ceiling.

Feeling his body no longer being pulled into the abyss that the passageway had become, Captain De Bont released his grip and leaned onto the deck, which was still at a slight angle. Trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible, the Captain said:

— Morgan?

— Captain?

— Status report?

— I’m fine. Alive

— Good. Mr. Cage?

— I’m okay.

— Miss Fox?

— I’m intact — Kayla croaked with a groan.

— Henry?

— Operational.

With that, Captain De Bont inhaled as deeply as his lungs would allow.

— I think it’s gone — the First Officer whispered.

The absolute silence was shattered by a sharp jolt. The impact originated somewhere in the bow section. The hull plating shuddered. The stern was suddenly pulled sharply downward. The sub continued its rapid descent and tilt, which concluded with a palpable crash that resonated evenly throughout the vessel, accompanied by a chorus of shouts and curses.

When the chaos subsided, no further hull movement was detectable. The Amphibia rested firmly on the seafloor, listing slightly to one side.

The voice of the onboard computer echoed through the cabin:

— Initiating emergency power.

A faint red light flooded the compartments. Subconsciously, the color red is hardwired into humans to evoke associations with blood, harm, and danger — a direct threat to life. In that moment, the crew was experiencing a true, maximum-possible threat.

Gradually, the red light began to transition to the working lights. The Control Room began to fill with the sounds of systems slowly coming online. The low hum of operational equipment resumed everywhere.

15. ENTRANCE TO THE HELL

While the system booted up, Captain De Bont scanned the room, assessing the damage. Everywhere, there were signs of ripped-off panels and shattered light bulbs. A slightly warped structural frame was visible in places. The Amphibia lay on the ocean floor, listing slightly to starboard.

— Henry? — the Captain called out, as the Engineer abruptly moved toward the stern.

— Yes?

— To the reactor?

— Yes, Captain.

— Get to it. And be quick about it.

Captain De Bont then looked at the First Officer and said:

— Morgan, check the bow section.

— Aye, Captain — the First Officer replied, letting out a heavy sigh.

Kayla began surveying the cabin to inspect the havoc the ancient predator had wreaked. With timid steps, she entered the galley. Food left over from the last dinner was scattered across the deck. Half a meter away, Kayla spotted sausages covered in tomato sauce and was instantly reminded of Tucker’s meter-long tongue. She vomited.

Hector paced restlessly around the Control Room, waiting for the night vision cameras to start transmitting images. But as soon as the sonar activated, detecting nothing within a radius of thirteen hundred meters, the ichthyologist instantly lost all interest in the monitors.

The trembling in her knees did not subside, but curiosity and scientific interest proved stronger. Kayla stepped over the threshold of the infirmary and crept timidly toward the isolation ward door. Only upon seeing it up close did she remember that the viewport in the hatch had been welded shut. She then moved to Dr. Moore’s workstation computer, which was connected to the video cameras installed in both isolation rooms.

The process had not yet ceased. The transformation was progressing. Pieces of Tucker’s torn clothing were scattered across the floor. Of his human skin, nothing remained either. The skeleton of the legs, which now resembled bestial paws, had formed a second articulation point near the mid-thigh, in addition to the customary knee joint. Another limb, resembling a tail with a bifurcated tip, was growing from the coccyx. The skin on the abdominal cavity was so severely retracted inward that the distinct outline of the lower ribs was visible from the front. The spine, too, had undergone significant changes; it had begun to curve, forcing the half-animal, half-human to almost crouch on all fours. The hands, tipped with massive claws, had endured further deformation and fused — the index and middle fingers together, and the ring and pinky fingers together. Webbing remained intact between them. The forelimbs now almost entirely resembled the taloned appendages of a raptor. Sharp, bare bones protruded from the elbows.

The creature appeared not merely to be stretching its long, spiked tongue from its maw, but rather to be emitting sounds. The tightly battened hatch prevented anything from being heard directly. Kayla then clicked the microphone icon and deactivated the mute indicator, after which truly bestial groans began to be relayed through the acoustic speakers.

Kayla realized that all the painstaking work in her home lab paled in comparison to this. All the samples she cultivated in her makeshift incubator were not worth an infinitesimal fraction of such a priceless specimen. She inserted a flash drive into the port and began copying the video recordings from the isolation ward camera, which had logged the entire transformation process: from the decay of all traces of the human organism to the emergence of an anatomy unknown to modern science. Once the copying started, Kayla minimized the work window and exited the infirmary.

Hector adjusted his position as the picture on the display changed, showing the feed from the night vision cameras. Wanting a closer look, Hector approached the large screen and clicked on the section displaying the feed from Camera Nine. The image enlarged to fill the entire display. For the ichthyologist, it wasn’t exactly a mystery, but it certainly aroused interest. It’s just too…

— What have we here? — Captain De Bont uttered, having crept up silently from behind, or so Hector felt. In truth, he simply couldn’t hear the Captain’s approach because his attention was utterly consumed by the image on the screen.

— That’s a good question — the ichthyologist responded. — Apparently, another stop on our route.

— We were incredibly lucky. If we had plopped down twenty or thirty meters farther, we would be free as birds.

— No, what is this? — Hector Cage wondered indignantly. — It’s too perfect a shape. Don’t you agree, Captain? Just look at those contours.

— I’d call it a geometrically perfect figure. It’s hard for me to imagine it being natural in origin. But also not man-made. What kind of technology would be required?

While the Captain and the ichthyologist continued to evaluate the image on the display, the First Officer and the biologist returned to the Control Room. No sooner had they arrived than a simultaneous, troubled gasp echoed through the compartment. The entire crew felt a shiver that shot through their entire bodies, from heel to neck. The display was almost completely engulfed by the dark tones of something moving. Visually, it was something between an orca and a sperm whale, yet five times the size of a blue whale, rising from the depths. It was surfacing from a bottomless aperture, at least a hundred meters in diameter. As Captain De Bont observed, this hole was shaped like a geometrically perfect circle with perfectly clear edges. The colossal creature that ascended from the deepest dark created the powerful impression that an entire planet were rising from some abyss on the Atlantic floor. The creature’s vocalizations penetrated the submarine. The deep-sea leviathan’s size was so gigantic that its slow upward movement caused a ripple effect, from which the Amphibia’s hull scraped across the seabed, shifting the submarine several meters.

— Everyone stay calm! — Captain De Bont insisted forcefully, trying to remain standing after the jolt. The others clung to the deck, having momentarily lost their footing. The submarine’s hull vibrated briefly. — Nothing critical. We got away with it.

— Well, well — Hector breathed out, mouth agape. He was utterly unable to contain his delight. How many other living beings lay shrouded by the abyssal darkness? None of them resembled any species inhabiting the upper layers of the world’s oceans. It was beyond science fiction. Who could have known that a single planet could hold two separate worlds with entirely different living creatures? Yet, as mesmerizing as their external appearance seemed, this circularity looked just as alarming, behind which anything might be concealed.

— What in God’s name happened! — Henry shouted in a panic, rushing into the Control Room. — We haven’t even lifted off the seabed yet, and that thing already found us?

— Everything is fine — the Captain reassured the Engineer, urging him to calm down.

Still held by fear, taking a deep breath, Henry asked:

— Captain, what was that?

— You’ll find out. Maybe you can check the video later. But right now, tell me, what’s the status of our «swallow»?

Kayla began to rub the Engineer’s shoulders, trying to quell the adrenaline surge, speaking in a soft voice:

— Breathe steady. Take your time.

Henry managed to take several slow breaths, and when his pulse returned to normal, he began his report in a ragged voice with echoes of subsiding panic:

— I have two items of news — one good, one bad.

— Classic — Morgan grumbled, displeased.

— Just fantastic — Hector concurred.

— My gut feeling isn’t good anyway. Let’s start with the good? — the Captain directed.

— The reactor is fully intact.

— Now «delight» us.

— That creature severely dented our hull. In several places, the dent reached the internal structure.

— Specifically, what is damaged?

— A lot of everything. The main propulsion motor is slightly warped. But the most critical thing is the ballast tank blow system. The number two valve has been ripped off. The number nine valve is inoperable. Six compressed air cylinders exploded. The stern ballast tanks retain only nine percent of their compressed air. Reserves for the midship ballast tanks remain at less than six percent. This volume is only enough for maneuvers, and only temporarily, at that.

— What are the ramifications?

— Simply put, we won’t be able to surface.

Involuntarily, panic burst from Kayla’s mouth:

— What do you mean, we won’t surface!?

Morgan, who couldn’t have imagined in his worst nightmare meeting his demise at a depth of eight kilometers, backed the biologist:

— Are we going to drown down here?

Captain De Bont called for calm:

— Everyone remain steady. Henry, elaborate.

— No, we can technically rise to the surface, but it’s not that simple. To blow the ballast evenly throughout the hull, I could redistribute the air among the cylinders. But that would mean the pressure in them would be very weak, and the ballast would blow very slowly, and consequently, the sub would surface slowly, too. On top of that, under those conditions, any maneuvering would be out of the question. Therefore, that option is unsuitable for us. I’ll have to take all the remaining air intended for the midship ballast and connect the hoses to the stern and bow tanks. That way, we’ll at least retain the ability to adjust our trim. But even if we fully blow the forward and stern groups of tanks, it still won’t be enough to surface at a normal speed. The process will be significantly retarded.

— Stop — the Captain interrupted. Luther fell silent for a moment in thought, and when the initial sketches of a plan for salvation came to him, he continued: — Alright, here’s the plan. Do exactly as you just said. Reroute the air cylinders for the midship tanks to the stern and bow tanks. We’ll leave the central ballast without air for now.

— Captain, what are you driving at?

— Will we be able to surface with a twenty-five-degree trim by the stern?

— We can. But do you realize that we’ll have to retain some water volume in the stern? That will further reduce our ascent speed, and…

— I need an answer: yes or no? — the Captain cut in.

— Yes. We can. — Henry replied. After a brief pause, he asked: — And what are you planning to do?

Taking a few seconds to consider, Captain De Bont put the question to the Engineer:

— If we start both engines and maintain the maximum surfacing speed permitted by the stern and bow tanks with a twenty-five-degree trim, how long until we reach the surface?

— Let’s see. — Henry moved to the touchscreen display and began performing calculations. — Alright. We are at a depth of eight thousand one hundred five meters. If we travel at a twenty-five-degree angle, our route distance will be… hmm-hmm-hmm, a little over twenty thousand meters. To avoid decompression sickness, maintaining a speed of one knot with a twenty-five-degree trim, allowing for margin of error for maneuvers… our journey will take ten and a half to twelve hours.

— Why can’t we ascend vertically at a greater speed? — Kayla asked, puzzled.

— Yes, Captain? That doesn’t make sense to me either… wait a minute — Henry suddenly trailed off, clearly thinking hard.

Captain De Bont explained:

— Because we must evade that monster first, and only then reach the surface. That is why we will move at an angle. For now, let’s blow the tanks and lift our Amphibia. We need to hover over the edge of this chasm. Start the reactor. Prepare for probing. Let’s find out the depth down there; curiosity is killing me.

Once twenty meters above the edge of the circular depression, Henry began scanning the depths. As the probes did their work, the Engineer said, puzzled:

— Captain, what guarantee is there that it won’t track us down during the twelve-hour ascent?

— That is precisely what I wanted to discuss with our specialist — the Captain replied, looking at the ichthyologist, who had been lost in thought until that moment.

— Could you clarify? — Hector asked, frowning.

— Remind me, Mr. Cage, what you were saying about the thermocline. If we assume that this — your so-called «dinosaur» — is truly unable to overcome the thermocline, what happens if it enters that layer?

A look of sudden realization washed over the ichthyologist’s face:

— Listen… It’s entirely possible. We might not need to race to the surface at top speed. It’s possible we could break free of it after only three or four kilometers.

— Right. I want to hear more details.

— The fact is, the ocean floor here is dotted with hydrothermal vents. It’s hellishly hot, so they are adapted to living in the warmth. But if it gets into the middle layers of the ocean… the water there is freezing.

— And what exactly will happen to this creature in the cold waters? — the Captain asked.

— Well, logically, cooling of the outer tissues would occur, leading to impaired blood circulation, convulsions, followed by reduced sensitivity, and then total or partial nervous system failure. Miss Fox, did I miss anything?

— An organism accustomed to a warm environment… yes, that is highly likely how it would behave.

And here, Hector interjected once more:

— The only thing that could skew our assumptions is the armor plating. The question is what percentage of the body is covered by it and how effectively it insulates against sudden temperature drops. But, in any case, I am certain this leviathan must have areas not covered by armor. Besides the eyes, this includes the joints between the limbs and belly, the genitals, and the maw. Plus, this species has probably inhabited this area for a long time, and the organism has become genetically accustomed to this environment, adapting evolutionarily. So, it should definitely feel the difference in temperature. Therefore, if this works out, we can slip past it.

With rousing enthusiasm, Captain De Bont announced loudly:

— Well, let’s put that monster on ice. — Then the Captain looked at the Engineer: — What’s the depth status?

— Almost there, Captain. Two percent left. One percent.

Everyone held their breath in anticipation. The crew was eager to find out the true dimensions of the chasm over which the Amphibia hovered. The display lit up with «100%», immediately followed by the message: DATA NOT RECEIVED.

— I don’t understand — the Engineer muttered, restarting the sonar procedure. But the moment he pressed the launch button, the download didn’t even begin. The same message instantly reappeared: DATA NOT RECEIVED.

At the sight of the message, Hector suddenly fidgeted. He began pacing the compartment restlessly, clearly deep in thought. The Captain noticed this immediately:

— Mr. Cage… do you know something that we don’t?

The ichthyologist remained silently absorbed in his own thoughts.

— If so, then share it — Captain De Bont added.

Hector, looking stunned, jabbed the display showing the circular chasm and began to speak, his pulse quickening, as he himself had never imagined taking this line of reasoning seriously:

— I think I know where the creature that tried to devour us came from. If… — at that word, Hector nearly choked on the lump in his throat. He felt a chill run down his spine. Swallowing, the ichthyologist made a second attempt: — … if the Hollow Earth theory is correct, then my deductions… — Hector swallowed again, sighed, and continued his thought: — If there is a cavity inside the Earth, it likely contains an ideal biosphere for life. It’s quite possible that it is protected on all sides from global cataclysms. For instance, the asteroid impact in Yucatán kicked up a massive dust cloud that enveloped the planet for a long time. The sun’s rays couldn’t reach the Earth’s surface for so long that global glaciation was inevitable. Nothing like that could happen in the hollow part of the planet. It is a physically closed and ecologically shielded habitat. It is in such a favorable environment that each of these creatures can live and breed over a long period, ensuring the survival of their species across millions of years.

Kayla’s mind immediately went to the creature Tucker had become. She thought about other possible beings that might be discovered if the ichthyologist, with whom she shared more than just a professional relationship, proved correct. She immediately asked:

— So what now?

Addressing the entire crew, Hector continued, but now spoke with far greater resolve, without the slightest tremor in his voice:

— If you permit me, I will state my opinion. By getting aboard this sub, I, as a scientist, gained a unique opportunity to conduct research others can only dream of. I have devoted my entire life to ichthyology. My first wife left me because I skipped our honeymoon to accept an offer to go to Australia to examine an unknown mutation of a twelve-meter creature. I love my work and have dedicated my whole life to it. I know enough about prehistoric predators a thousand times more terrible than a great white shark. But even I am scared to imagine what creatures could emerge from this abyss.

— Yes, but maybe this chasm simply possess a depth so vast our equipment cannot measure it? — Kayla suggested.

— You don’t understand, Miss Fox. The pathogen that consumed our colleague may have very well originated from there. Whatever is hunting us can hardly have anything in common with any species that has ever existed in the surface layers of the ocean. I can now definitively state that this specimen has absolutely nothing in common with the Basilosaurus, because the Basilosaurus lacked echolocation organs, yet this giant senses our presence from kilometers away. There has always been a theory that certain forms of life could inhabit the greater depths. But that referred to some simple organisms or, generally, species of small size. Where, in your opinion, would a predator of that size find sustenance? I’m not even talking about the one that just swam right in front of us. The ecosystem here is sparse. Surely there must be a hidden feeding ground, one that hosts an incredibly complex and rich ecosystem. That is their home. Even if some living organisms exist on the ocean floor that they feed on, the local environment should have been utterly depleted long ago. — After a second, Hector remembered and added: — And that disk-shaped object. It looks exactly like a saucer. But who said it was flying? I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that this is a submersible vehicle. In any case, it possesses the ideal hydrodynamic streamlining for such use. Even though I am a scientist, I am forced to propose such hypotheses, because all this must have a rational explanation, but the problem is that no other rational explanations come to mind.

— But we cannot base our decisions on unconfirmed theories — Kayla insisted, directing a pleading look at the Captain.

— What are you talking about? — Hector said indignantly. — We are talking about the safety of the entire crew. You can accuse me of neglecting the scientific discoveries we risk failing to make. But if we don’t get the hell out of here, the world won’t even know about the few discoveries we’ve already made. And there is no moral dilemma here.

— Captain — Kayla said, hoping for his support. — We could dive in at least a little more. After all, we still have a reserve margin to our maximum operating depth.

Henry and Morgan stood aside, simply observing as the future fate of the entire expedition was decided. Dr. Cage’s theories no longer shocked them so deeply after everything they had witnessed during the three weeks spent in the abyss of the Atlantic Ocean.

Captain De Bont scratched his chin, then ran his hand over the back of his head. The crew listened to his words with particular attention.

— I have always made decisions and given orders demanding absolute obedience. Now, for the first time, I will explain my decision. But I tell you straight away — with these words, the Captain looked first at the Biologist — that I do not care about anyone’s opinion. My decision is final. Considering the information we have managed to collect, our expedition has already justified the money and effort spent on its preparation. We have a choice. We can risk going down with the sub, or we can return with what we have. I saw an object too much like an alien vessel; an unknown infection that turned Mr. Hughes into a zombie; and I also saw with my own eyes a prehistoric dinosaur and a marine mastodon ten times larger than any known species. Any intelligence agency would kill for such information. As a military man, I can say that our vessel is not equipped for the situation we are now trapped in. We have nothing to defend ourselves with. We can return with what we have, and then perhaps our employers will reassess their approach and properly prepare the submarine before the next dive to ensure the survival of both the vessel and the entire crew. So, — Captain De Bont said in a conclusive tone, — we are surfacing.

— What about the buoy? — Kayla continued to insist.

— This is the last question I will answer for you, Miss Fox. After this, do not attempt to solicit any further explanation regarding my decision. It is final. As for the buoy… according to protocol, I am obliged to launch a distress buoy. But I am more than certain that help will not arrive. This is the only submarine in the world capable of operating at these depths, and deep-sea rescue vehicles would barely be able to reach us here. That predator will tear them apart effortlessly. But that is largely irrelevant. Something else is more important. Based on my experience, I venture to say that should we be unable to surface, our employers will not rush a rescue. To them, only the information matters; the data collected during the expedition. While our reserves of oxygen and drinking water are virtually inexhaustible, the same cannot be said for other resources. They will carefully plan the rescue dive. Preparation will take a significant amount of time. Even if the rescuers evade the threat and their submersibles do not attract that brute, it will still change nothing for us. By that point, our provisions will run out. But they will not mourn our loss. Rescuers will eventually reach the Amphibia and climb inside. However, they will no longer be saving the crew, but the data we managed to accumulate. So, I could launch the buoy, but it won’t save us, because the buoy was installed not out of humanitarian concern, but simply to know the exact location where they should look for a submarine carrying valuable cargo. We are entirely on our own here, and we can only rely on ourselves.

16. BETWEEN SKY AND BOTTOM

The First Officer was assigned one of the most critical duties. Morgan must monitor the sonar readings so that when a signature appears, Captain De Bont can make timely course corrections for the Amphibia, minimizing the risk of contact.

— Henry, what is the status of the ballast?

— Everything is ready, Captain. I have redistributed the air cylinders.

— Excellent. Prepare to surface. Course two-nine-zero. Trim twenty-five. All ahead full.

Morgan repeated the Captain’s instructions precisely, reporting its execution.

Instrument readings showed an increase in speed. Even without the auxiliary thrusters and with one damaged propeller blade, the speed they managed to maintain was very impressive. Raising the bow twenty-five degrees above the horizontal plane presented no problem. The ballast tanks were blowing, albeit slowly. For a submarine that had been turned into a punching bag repeatedly, Amphibia XXI was exceedingly resilient. After everything it had experienced, it could rightfully be considered a veritable engineering marvel.

At a depth of six thousand three hundred meters, Captain De Bont asked:

— Morgan, what is the water temperature outside?

— Four degrees Celsius. Do you think this is cold enough?

The Captain looked at the ichthyologist and the biologist and asked:

— What is your assessment?

— I would say this is a borderline zone — Kayla answered. — Fifty-fifty.

— I concur — Hector added. — We don’t know for sure what its core body temperature is or what its external tissues are like. Closer to four kilometers, I think the water temperature will be just right. That will be dangerous for the creature. Even so…

— Contact — the First Officer cut in. — Bearing one-three-eight. Range one thousand two hundred fifty meters. Speed fifteen knots.

Captain De Bont pressed close to the large display and tracked the object’s movement. As it drew closer to the Amphibia, its track was gradually straightening out. Convinced of this, the Captain commanded:

— All stop.

— All stop, aye.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, the Captain added:

— What is the depth?

— Five thousand eight hundred eighty meters.

— Blow stern and bow tanks an additional three percent.

— Blowing three percent, aye.

— Report contact readings?

— Range nine hundred meters. Speed eighteen knots. Wait… speed is dropping. Sixteen knots. Fifteen. Bearing change nineteen degrees.

The sonar continued to ping:

Ping… Ping… Ping…

Everyone watched the instrument readings in silence. An anxious silence hung in the control room, broken only by the sonar pings and the voices of the Captain and First Officer.

Morgan reported:

— Bearing change thirty degrees. Range eight hundred forty meters. Speed fourteen knots. Thirty-five degrees bearing change.

— The bastard is being cautious — Henry muttered aloud.

Ping… Ping… Ping…

— Continuing bearing change. Forty degrees. Range eight hundred twenty meters. Speed twelve knots.

The entire crew froze before the large screen, continuing to listen to the First Officer’s voice from behind them. The Captain was focused on the predator failing to catch the Amphibia visually, hoping it would continue to swerve. He hoped the predator’s eyes had been sufficiently blinded that it could see nothing in the absolute darkness. He glanced at the depth readings. The submarine continued its slow ascent.

Ping… Ping… Ping…

Morgan continued to report changes in the object’s movement. His voice was tight, betraying a mixture of intense concentration and alarm:

— Bearing change fifty degrees. Speed twelve knots. Range seven hundred ninety meters.

— This isn’t your stop — Henry sneered.

— Slowing down. Speed seven knots. Range seven hundred eighty. Bearing change sixty-five degrees. It’s nearly stopped.

Morgan fell silent for a moment, plunging the control room into a frightening silence, broken only by the ping of the flickering signature:

Ping… Ping… Ping…

— Speed four knots. It’s turning. Changing course. Bearing change ninety-five degrees. Still turning. Bearing change one hundred ten. Speed nine knots. Accelerating. Range nine hundred thirty. Nine hundred forty. Nine hundred fifty. Speed is increasing. Fifteen knots. Range one thousand. One thousand twenty-five meters.

Captain De Bont reached into his pocket for a piece of hard candy.

Almost in a whisper, the Engineer began to mumble:

— Come on. Go on, get out. Head back.

Even at this distance, Kayla couldn’t stop glancing at the night vision camera feed on a nearby display, fearing she would again see the body of the giant deep-sea beast.

— Perhaps the cold water is already affecting it — Hector suggested.

Soon Morgan reported:

— Signature lost. Object is out of sonar range.

Long-awaited relief washed over the entire crew. Captain De Bont announced:

— Hold all non-essential systems.

Suddenly, an intermittent contact flashed on the screen. It barely registered within sonar range before vanishing instantly. An eerie silence hung in the control room. Three seconds later it was shattered by a loud, sharp PING!

The contact was lost again.

— What was the bearing when contact was lost? — the Captain asked.

— One-three-five.

PING!

— Everyone calm down — Captain De Bont insisted. — It’s trying to regain the trace.

A deafening explosion tore through the submarine’s stern. A violent shudder ran through the inner hull plating.

PING!!! PING!!! PING!!! PING!..

— Captain! — exclaimed the First Officer. — Bearing one-three-one! Dead ahead! Speed twenty knots! Twenty-two! Twenty-three!..

In a thunderous, commanding tone, the Captain barked orders:

— New course two-two-nine! All ahead full!

— New course two-two-nine, all ahead full, aye!

— Blow stern and bow tanks five percent!

— Blowing five percent, aye!

Morgan launched another dose of compressed air into the ballast tanks, further accelerating their vertical speed.

Next, the Captain turned to the Engineer:

— Henry, what the hell happened!

— Diagnostics running!

Henry continued to stare at the work screen, awaiting the results of the general diagnostics. When the diagnostics were thirty-one percent complete, the computer reported the first fault and Henry shouted:

— A high-pressure air tank has blown! Forward ballast tanks!

— Fuck! — Captain De Bont roared. — All hands to station! Secure yourselves!

Having lost his seat, Henry took the station formerly used by Tucker.

The monster continued to close the distance.

— What depth!?

— Five thousand four hundred!

— Outside temperature!?

— Three degrees Celsius!

— Blow stern five percent! Bow ten percent!

— Stern five, bow ten, aye!

Being in the absolute grip of total fear and confusion, Kayla did not realize it, but she was instinctively reciting the bulk of her prayers in the correct sequence.

— Captain, stern trim nineteen degrees! — Morgan reported after blowing the ballast tanks. Glancing at the sonar readings, he immediately added: — T Contact closing! Range four hundred fifty meters! Oh, bloody hell… — the First Officer shouted in stunned realization. — It’s slowing down! Speed twenty-eight knots! It was THIRTY-ONE!

— How do you like the water, you son of a bitch!? — Henry roared, looking at the night vision feed which still showed nothing. — Are your guts freezing off yet!?

Hearing the Engineer’s words, Morgan remembered the water temperature.

— Outside temperature two degrees Celsius.

The Captain checked the Amphibia’s speed. The instruments registered eighteen knots.

— Contact speed twenty-seven knots. Range four hundred meters — Morgan reported.

The Captain glanced at the night vision camera feed, asking simultaneously:

— Depth!?

— Five thousand two hundred eighty meters. Range three hundred fifty.

The Amphibia was now making twenty knots. Even at this speed, they only slowed the predator’s rate of closure, failing to shake it.

— Range three hundred meters.

Why aren’t you freezing? — Hector wondered, his eyes glued to the display where the monster’s blurred traces flickered.

— Range two hundred fifty!

— Visual contact! — Henry yelled.

The Amphibia’s speed peaked at its maximum limit — twenty-two knots.

— The bastard is freezing! Contact speed twenty-six knots!

— We’ve got him! — Henry cheered triumphantly. — A little longer and his ardor will cool!

The prayers from Kayla’s lips began to falter. She looked at the screen with slightly more boldness. She expected the monster pursuing the Amphibia would soon begin to lose sensitivity and cease its movement.

The cold enveloped the body entirely. The fins were nearly numb. The tail moved slower and slower. The heartbeat accelerated, working at its limit, attempting to disperse blood throughout the entire organism to restore sensitivity to the extremities. But it was all in vain. And this interloper… it was untouched. It seemed to be mocking him, tearing through the icy water as if the environment had not changed at all. It continued to move with uncanny ease, still without moving a single limb, leaving only a trail of bubbles in its wake. And that pulse… What an irritating voice this interloper possessed. It did not cease for a single moment. Who was it? From what waters did it emerge? Whatever happened, the master and true predator was obligated to fight for its territory to the bitter end. It had to try, to give its last reserves of strength. For it was so close now. Now!

— Range thirty meters!

— What is the outside temperature!? — Captain De Bont roared.

Morgan couldn’t believe his eyes. The beast was moving at twenty-five knots, and the temperature…

— ZERO! Captain, zero degrees! Holy shit!

— Just die already! — Kayla screamed hysterically, gripping her hair and leaping from her seat. Only the restraints held her in place.

— It’s swimming with its last reserves of strength! — Hector added, watching the images from the stern cameras. — No, no, no! NO!

The contact points of the Amphibia and the object converged on the sonar.

— IT’S BELOW US!!! — the First Officer’s voice rang out, as if in a panic attack.

BANG!!!

The Amphibia’s hull lurched. The stern section shifted sharply upward, while the bow was pulled down. The speed readings dropped precipitously. The pressure hull was creaking. The violent shudder did not subside for another half minute.

The crew members’ bodies shook violently in their strapped seats. The screaming continued, only Captain De Bont’s voice absent from the din. He cursed to himself, refusing to give in to emotion. Maintaining composure in any situation, no matter how dire, was the cardinal rule Luther de Bont lived by. He had always believed panic had no place on a submarine, as it only increased the chances of inevitable destruction.

— All stop!

There was no reaction from the First Officer.

— I said, ALL STOP!!!

Morgan cut the engines, and… a barely audible rumble sounded outside. The crew members did not immediately realize it was an animal roar. It swelled and grew louder until…

BANG!!! BANG!..

A series of blows hammered the entire hull. The final impact struck the stern, which was genuinely alarming.

The hull’s pitch nearly returned to zero. The Amphibia’s hull was almost horizontal, but remained listing twenty-two degrees to the starboard side.

Captain De Bont checked the instrument readings. The depth was increasing. The Amphibia was being dragged toward the bottom.

Time passed. Nothing happened. In the control room, alongside the frantic, loud breathing of the terrified crew, Kayla’s weeping could be heard. The ichthyologist drew the Captain’s attention to the screens. The monster was still close to the submarine.

— It’s zero degrees outside, and it’s showing no sign of retreating — Morgan stated, struggling to catch his breath.

— Silence, everyone — Captain De Bont snapped. — Not a sound.

He peered at the images on the main display, cross-referencing the camera views.

— Crap.

— It’s describing circles around the stern — the ichthyologist noted. — And, by all appearances, it has perked up.

Feeling the hull stabilize enough, Captain De Bont unbuckled his seatbelt, stood up and, closing his eyes, slammed his hand onto the dashboard. When his cold mind returned, he spoke in a voice that betrayed hopelessness and despair:

— Henry, get the Geiger counter and the dosimeter.

A deathly silence fell over the control room. Hector had no doubt about the Captain’s suspicions. He understood everything even without special instruments; the ichthyologist only needed to look at the display and assess the deep-sea creature’s behavior.

Kayla remained strapped into her seat. Her lips were parted, and her chin trembled. Her hands, clasped to her chest, were shaking.

Captain De Bont ordered the First Officer to level the boat’s position. Retaining the slightest sliver of hope, Morgan never stopped looking at his commander. He had put his faith in him until the very end. Not a day passed that he had cause to doubt Captain De Bont’s skill. And now, facing mortal danger, he never ceased to believe in the talent of the man who had astonished him throughout this voyage. Even here, in the hellish depths, with no armament aboard, Luther de Bont had demonstrated the peak of mastery and the standard of courage. But what now?

Henry returned to the compartment. The Captain questioned him with a gesture. The Engineer kept his mouth open for a long time, unable to find the strength to report the catastrophic news.

— The reactor cooling system has failed.

Captain De Bont quietly closed his eyelids and asked:

— Radiation?

— I… — Henry’s every breath was a struggle. — I… stopped about five meters from the reactor. The reading was… twelve microsieverts. I was afraid to go further.

The water temperature overboard was zero. Only now, the monster was not bothered by it at all. Radiation had become its source of warmth. Warmth… and sustenance. It stopped perceiving the irritating pulse. All it registered was gamma radiation. It had become a whole world for the monster, and around this world it danced, circling the stern of the Amphibia.

— Captain, — Morgan said timidly, — what are your orders?

The Captain looked at the chart and gave the command, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat:

— Stern trim twenty-five. Course zero-two-nine. All ahead full.

Confusion was etched on the First Officer’s face. He was clearly perplexed. Noticing this, the Captain said:

— You were waiting for an order? You have it. We continue the ascent.

Still looking at the Captain, Morgan found the strength and reported as a soldier should:

— Stern trim twenty-five. Course zero-two-nine. All ahead full, aye.

The Captain turned to the Engineer:

— Henry, come with me.

The Captain and Engineer left.

Without removing her hands from her head, Kayla rasped through her tears:

— God… what will become of us?

Her lungs continued to contract and expand to their absolute limit.

Hector Cage walked up to the large screen. He watched the movements of the predator, reflecting on what an immense thirst for knowledge could ultimately lead to. The ichthyologist began to truly consider that perhaps there were boundaries of knowledge that ought to be respected to avoid exposing oneself to danger. But man had long ago begun to lose his instinct for self-preservation, refusing to acknowledge these limits, indulging the blind ambition to place itself at the apex of the world. The crown of creation. The superior intellect. The apex predator. The most dangerous killer. This is only true of man when he dwells on the surface and sees only what he is allowed to see. There he is able to kill even a great white shark, using tools that are the result of a highly developed intellect. That developed mind has made humanity the most resilient and tenacious biological species on the planet. A more dangerous predator cannot be found. But invade where it does not belong, and this predator is instantly rendered prey. Target. A mere link in the food chain. Nothing more. Was it worth trying to penetrate places that nature allocated to other creatures and which are unfit for habitation by the human species?

Footsteps echoed. The Captain and the Engineer returned.

— Listen up — Captain De Bont began, his tone firm and decisive. — I will not mislead anyone; I will tell you exactly how it is. Amphibia XXI is sinking. There is no way for us to regain the surface in this vessel. We cannot remain on board. Before the radiation kills us, we must take immediate action. We have bathyscaphes. They are fully operational and sustained no damage in the collision. Therefore, I need all of you to gather the essentials and prepare for immediate ascent. Our expedition has reached its conclusion.

— Captain, surely you don’t mean to… — Kayla stammered, her voice trembling.

— This creature is busy absorbing the radiation — the Captain continued. — Kayla, understand, you will have to take a risk either way. Leaving the Amphibia offers a chance to survive. If you stay here, the radiation will kill you.

Captain De Bont then addressed the Engineer:

— Henry, copy all saved files to an external drive: video recordings, notes, coordinates, images. All the data we have managed to accumulate.

— Mr. De Bont — the Ichthyologist said. — May I address you so?

— In these moments, I am Luther to you.

Touched by the Captain’s words, Hector continued:

— Luther, we are surfacing now. But the Amphibia will still sink back to the bottom. And this creature…

— Yes, Mr. Cage. That is why we are surfacing, to reduce the distance to the surface for the bathyscaphes. For the bathyscaphes, but not for…

— Wait a minute — the First Officer cut in, indignant. — The bathyscaphes can accommodate two people each. There are only two of them, and there are five of us. — Morgan groaned anxiously: — Captain?

The Captain placed his hands at his sides and said decisively:

— This creature will not reach the surface. Not today. And besides, we haven’t settled our score yet. I am obligated to win this round. I will drive this scum back to where it crawled out and bury it there.

— You’re not going to…

The Captain looked at Henry and asked him to show how to initiate the nuclear reactor’s self-destruct protocol.

— Captain… — the First Officer croaked hoarsely.

— Stand down, soldier. I am compelled to cancel humanity’s meeting with this creature. Such an encounter would be very unpleasant. The Amphibia carries no weapons. That means we must turn the vessel itself into a bomb. And while this bomb is slowly killing all of us, you must hurry.

— Captain, with all due respect, please don’t be offended, but…

— OBEY THE ORDER!!!

Bitter tears streamed down Morgan’s cheeks. His path and the Captain’s had fatally diverged.

17. THE DATE IS OVER

— Yes. I think that will be just right — Hector said, asking the Engineer to add one more file to the archive intended for their employers. — Good. Do we have the pictures of the trench?

— Looks like I saved them. Yep, here they are.

— And the coordinates?

— Yes, yes, Mr. Cage. Everything is here.

Meanwhile, Kayla Fox, a tremor running through her chest, stared at the closed door of the isolation ward with the welded window. She convinced herself that hardly any person in their right mind, having survived such a thing once, would ever willingly return here a second time. The idea could not leave her mind: that a complex organism existed, capable of settling in another body, so radically displacing all the external features of the host and restructuring the body to suit itself. To what extent are these bacteria tenacious and powerful that they are capable, in every sense, of taking complete control of another organism?

A crunch of glass sounded behind Kayla. She shuddered; it was the fragments of a broken lamp crushed under the sole of a sneaker.

— Saying goodbye to our colleague? — Morgan asked.

Kayla didn’t answer, only nodding several times. She walked past the First Officer, heading toward the exit, when suddenly Morgan seized her wrist:

— Where are you rushing off to?

— Get your hands off. — Gathering all her rage into a fist, Kayla added in a threatening tone: — Get your hands off me now, asshole.

— I don’t know about you, — Morgan sneered, — but I like it rough.

Morgan began squeezing her wrist harder and harder until Kayla’s fingers slowly began to uncurl.

— I said take your filthy paws off me — Kayla hissed furiously, raising her free hand to strike.

Morgan grabbed Kayla’s second hand and feigned not having heard a thing. Maintaining his air of nonchalance, he slightly tightened his grip on the first wrist and added:

— What’s the matter? Don’t you like a little roughness?

Kayla remained silent, only intensifying the grimace of hatred and fury on her face.

— Well, I hate being rejected. Will you get it yourself, or do I have to? — With these words, Morgan shoved Kayla. She slammed her back against the wall.

Noticing she wouldn’t yield, Morgan switched her left wrist to his other hand, using the fingers of one hand to secure both her wrists. Maintaining a cold gaze, the First Officer began slowly plunging his free palm between Kayla’s breasts, pressed together by the wall.

— Get off me! — Kayla shrieked.

— What’s going on here?

The figure of Captain De Bont appeared on the infirmary threshold. The First Officer continued to pin Kayla’s body against the wall with one arm while the other was crawling out from under her T-shirt, having slipped over her full, smooth breast.

— What kind of trickery is this? Huh? — Captain De Bont asked, stepping decisively toward the First Officer. He accepted several objects from Morgan’s hands, and Morgan himself said maliciously:

— I think I know what this is called. Science comes first. Right?

Captain De Bont looked straight into Kayla’s eyes and asked in a clear, articulate tone:

— Miss Fox, I am listening to you very carefully.

He motioned for Morgan to release her. As soon as the First Officer freed her from his iron grip, Kayla instantly recoiled and spoke with shaky, deep breaths:

— Captain, you won’t understand. By studying these microorganisms, humanity can find a cure for many diseases, extend life significantly, and eliminate the flaws that nature has burdened us with. This is a new stage in human evolution.

In his hand, the Captain held a flash drive and a vacuum-sealed plastic packet containing tissue fragments and blood samples from Tucker Hughes. Inspecting the contents of the packet, Captain De Bont replied:

— You are right. Perhaps there is much I do not understand. But I believe what I see. And I saw what your microorganisms did to a man. A living, perfectly healthy man who is now behind that door. Or rather, what was once a man.

— Maybe it was her doing? — Morgan interjected. — A visual experiment, so to speak.

— Fuck you, you single-celled blockhead! — Kayla snapped so sharply that her long dark hair slipped down, covering half her face. — Lackey.

After Morgan’s words, the Captain looked slightly more closely at the biologist’s face. A few seconds later he spoke in the same serene, yet firm voice:

— Miss Fox, I already told you that I will go to the bottom along with that creature circling above us. Perhaps I should rephrase. I will take everything that does not belong on the surface with me. Including this — waving the plastic packet in front of Kayla’s nose. — Miss Fox, I will not allow you to unleash an apocalyptic plague.

Having lost the last vestiges of despair, Kayla lowered her eyes and accepted the loss.

Without taking his eyes off Kayla, Captain De Bont formally addressed the First Officer:

— Mr. Sinclair, escort Miss Fox to the hangar for evacuation.

Upon returning to the central compartment, Captain De Bont checked the instrument readings. The Amphibia was at a depth of two thousand one hundred and fifty-five meters. At that moment, no one else was in the central compartment except the ichthyologist. Henry had gone to prepare the bathyscaphes for the launch.

Hector stood in front of the large screen when he suddenly heard the Captain’s voice:

— Mr. Cage, have you given a name to our «friend» yet? I’d like to at least know who I’m sending to the afterlife.

Hector turned his head to look the Captain in the eye and said:

— Bold.

They shared a fleeting smile for only a split second, after which Hector continued:

— I’m not strong in Greek. I know that «saurus» translates as «lizard.» I’m better at Latin. The Latin language has a very appropriate word to name this species. — After a pause, the ichthyologist pronounced: — «Profondosaurus» — deep lizard.

As if nothing had happened, Captain De Bont walked up to the display and mused aloud, as if addressing the monster outside:

Congratulations. You’ve been given a name, but, alas, you won’t live with it for long.

At this moment, Hector Cage spoke in a completely serious tone:

— Captain, if I may, I would like to speak to you about something before I must leave this vessel. — Gathering his thoughts, Hector said, directing a piercing gaze toward the Captain: — I want you to know this. It is difficult for me to fathom the sheer courage it takes to make such a decision. Meeting you, in a way, made me feel ashamed of my own inability to keep my cool in extreme circumstances. You set the perfect example. Spending these weeks here with you, observing your reaction to every emergency situation, I learned the most important thing — how to look fear in the face. You might be surprised, but literally just a couple of minutes ago, I finally got rid of the trembling inside, because I decided that if I die, it would be better from blood loss than from fear.

The Captain’s grimace softened into a look of approval.

— You’re right, Mr. Cage. You surprised me. You realized on your own what ninety-nine percent of soldiers have to be taught.

The ichthyologist barely managed to hold back a tear that had gathered in his left eye. Overcoming the tremor in his voice, he said, shaking the crew commander’s hand:

— It has been an honor to meet you, Luther.

Swallowing hard, Luther replied:

— The feeling is mutual, Hector.

A few seconds later, Hector broke the silence once more:

— Show this shit the way to hell.

— That is what I do best.

A crackle sounded over the intercom, which was immediately replaced by the Engineer’s voice:

— Captain, everything is ready.

Before heading to the hangar, Captain De Bont leveled the Amphibia’s position, reducing the trim to zero, then stopped the engines and redirected the submarine backward, setting a speed of twelve knots. Approaching the steep staircase that led to the lower level, the Captain looked at the bulkhead behind which the damaged nuclear reactor was situated. At that moment, Luther stood in the spot where he was most susceptible to gamma radiation. He followed the ichthyologist downstairs.

The first thing Captain De Bont did was give detailed instructions to Morgan and Henry, who were entrusted with piloting the bathyscaphes:

— As soon as you submerge, immediately proceed toward the bow, strictly beneath the hull, one after another in a single file. Maintain this heading for a kilometer. If necessary, dump ballast and ascend at maximum speed. Questions?

Henry raised his hand, which immediately dropped like a stone. He had a question — or perhaps it wasn’t a question, but he had something to say. Before he could utter a word, the Captain said with a touch of irony:

— Don’t fret about the vessel. You’ll build another one, better than this one.

— I don’t give a damn about the vessel — the Engineer burst out indignantly, nearly yelling. — There won’t be another one like this. At least not without me. I don’t think that… — Henry began choking up, and his voice trembled — …that after you… anyone is worthy…

He swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty, and Captain De Bont hugged his limp body, shortly after which he asked for a favor. To this, Henry replied that he was ready to move mountains for the Captain. Captain De Bont, in a formal tone, demanded that the Engineer stand down from whining, forget about the mountains, and get ready to hit the gas.

Hector approached, once again shaking the Captain’s hand, and added in parting:

— If I reach the surface, then it seems I already know who to dedicate my memoirs to. Thanks to you, we are still breathing.

— That’s right, Hector. And it is your responsibility to keep breathing.

Morgan’s legs were rooted to the spot, as if held down by weights. Watching the Captain say goodbye to the crew created an immense, monstrous pain in his soul, bordering on a grief for which there should have been no cause. The First Officer’s cheeks were already slick with flowing tears. When the Captain approached, Morgan’s hands reflexively reached out to hug his commander. Those nearby heard him weep. Pressing his mouth to the commander’s shoulder, Morgan mumbled:

— Captain, p… please, permit me to stay.

Captain De Bont said nothing, only stroking the back of his assistant’s head — a man who had served him faithfully for many years. He patted the First Officer on the shoulder, already feeling his own shirt dampening from Morgan’s tears.

— Now you, don’t lose heart out there. Prove that you are my man.

Morgan suddenly raised his head and directed his reddened eyes at the Captain’s impassive face, who added:

— Prove that you are part of my team. Reach your destination safe and sound. Then I will know that your service under my command was not in vain.

Sobbing, Morgan snapped to attention, loudly clicked his heels together, then brought his hand to his temple and shouted at the top of his voice:

— YES SIR!

Having saluted, the First Officer climbed into the second bathyscaphe, where Hector was already waiting. Kayla and Henry were seated in the first.

Captain De Bont waited until the transparent dome of the second bathyscaphe closed, then hit the button on the wall panel. The launch bay doors in the hull’s bottom began to slide open. Henry and Morgan, meanwhile, started the engines, preparing for submergence. Everyone cast glances at the Captain, who waved his hand and finally motioned for them to focus on what lay ahead. The launch bay was open. Ahead was a pool of ocean water.

The glare spilling into the water from the hangar made it impossible to see anything. At this depth, darkness still prevailed. Somewhere out there under the water, very close, the Profondosaurus was swimming. Its presence was palpable. The Captain experienced a strange sensation. Something was wrong. The water did not ripple; it maintained a strange state: a perfectly smooth, level surface. Not a single oscillation. What was it? The result of the gamma radiation? Or was it him?

Seated in the bathyscaphes, they looked at the Captain, who first gestured a safe ascent, and then commanded them not to delay their submergence.

Henry pressed the release button, and the bathyscaphe rolled down the launch rail into the pool. Second by second, the bathyscaphe descended, sinking deeper and deeper into the water. Henry and Kayla looked at the Captain until the very last moment, until a horizontal strip of water cut off their view. The first bathyscaphe was gone. Morgan pressed the button, and the second craft rolled down the launch rail, splashing down into the hangar pool. Guiding the bathyscaphe, Morgan carried out a command he issued to himself: «Attention to the Officer!» The ichthyologist, who had not served a day in the military, followed the First Officer’s example and also saluted Captain Luther De Bont. Only after fully submerging did Morgan align the bathyscaphe with the submarine, turning toward the bow.

The Captain watched the crew depart and pressed the button to close the launch bay. But something went wrong. As the hatch began to seal, Captain De Bont suddenly noticed something flash underwater, and in the next instant, something resembling the tip of a black fin, the thickness of a few human fingers, darted out. A few more seconds passed, and then something underwater executed a powerful tail-fin movement, blasting a massive fountain of water into the hangar.

Knocked off his feet, the Captain scrambled and hurried to the central compartment.

It twirled around the alien body as if performing a dance, moving so tightly that its carapace almost pressed against the alien. The Profondosaurus was ready to embrace the Amphibia like a lover. It circled around the stern, feeling serene, energized, charged, and utterly blind to everything else. The submarine’s stern had become the center of the creature’s universe, the source of life. The gamma radiation had transformed into a torrent of voices that called and begged it not to leave. But it had no intention of doing so. It was ready to stay close until the end of time.

What was that? It seemed to the creature that the alien was a female. Something flashed past its right eye, which was still forty percent sighted. The Profondosaurus sank a little deeper and looked beneath the female’s belly. It was not mistaken. She had just released two cubs into the world. It could not allow aliens to breed here. This was its territory, and it had to defend it at all costs. And then there was this attractive radiation. Perhaps the radiation began with the onset of the birth and might now cease? It must be assumed that a male is currently wandering somewhere in search of the female. If this is truly the case, he could appear at any moment. It needed to be ready. In the meantime, it was necessary to eliminate the cubs.

The bathyscaphe’s instrument panel featured a display showing the image from a night vision camera installed in the tail. The flashing jaws of the Profondosaurus appeared on the screen.

Without shouting or escalating the panic, Henry and Morgan followed the Captain’s instructions. First, they jettisoned the lead-plate ballasts, which significantly reduced the craft’s total mass. As a result, the water began to push the object — whose mass was now substantially less than its own — toward the surface. The bathyscaphes shot sharply upwards. Kayla felt something creak beneath the hull, and less than a second later, the bathyscaphe took off like a mad Shuttle, causing her to let out hysterical screams. With every cell of her body, she felt herself literally sucked into the chair, her hips pressing tighter and tighter against the seat upholstery as the craft gained vertical momentum. The ascent speed reached twelve meters per second.

The Profondosaurus actively worked its entire skeleton, noticeably closing the distance. As it approached the first target, it opened its seven-meter-long mouth, lined with sharpened teeth. Morgan noticed how the image in the night vision camera began to disappear into the Profondosaurus’s jaws until it dissolved into a black spot, and a second later, he realized that the edges of the gaping mouth were starting to appear alongside the craft’s flanks. The First Officer sharply yanked the control stick and swerved the bathyscaphe aside. The Profondosaurus’s jaws slammed shut, biting through the water. Morgan and Hector heard the monster’s teeth scrape tangentially along the craft’s hull with a screech — a deafening, ferocious grinding sound that made them want to cover their ears with both hands, causing Morgan to nearly lose his grip on the stick. Slipping out of the monster’s mouth at the final moment, the bathyscaphe pitched slightly. Having barely missed its target, the Profondosaurus lunged forward with even greater speed.

His lungs worked at their limit, pumping oxygen at full capacity. Their effectiveness was already diminishing under the influence of gamma radiation, though this was not yet overtly noticeable. Everything was still ahead. Captain De Bont increased the bow trim to forty degrees and set full speed, plunging back into the depths of the Atlantic.

In the absolute darkness of the Atlantic waters, death followed close behind them.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

In moments when you expect your end, every second floats by like a bottomless eternity, agonizingly stretching the anticipation of your demise.

THUMP!!! THUMP!!! THUMP!!!

And with every thud, the sound of the approaching threat grew stronger.

The First Officer had already evaded the monster’s open jaws four times with a slight movement of the control stick. Morgan and Hector began to believe that no one was waiting for them in heaven today. They were quick enough to evade the danger, but too late for the flight to the heavens. They would have to return their tickets and postpone their departure to serenity indefinitely. Three times they had been on the brink, allowing the predator to rake the bathyscaphe’s hull with its sharp fangs.

And it was thoroughly sick of it!

The Profondosaurus executed a sharp turn, arching to the limit its own skeleton would allow. Then it uncoiled like a spring, and its gigantic tail sliced through the water, slamming into the bathyscaphe. The blow struck the starboard side.

Henry and Kayla were ascending nearly level with the second craft. It was dark in the deep. But they still managed to make out something in the faint flashes and reflections of metallic objects caught in the edges of the spotlights’ glare. They glimpsed the monstrous tail flash past. An explosion of bubbles. Scattered wreckage. And then, at the very edge of the spotlight, traces of a cloud of blood and fragments of human remains appeared — remains that were first shredded by the Profondosaurus’s tail fin, and then, after the destruction of the bathyscaphe’s gondola, were instantly flattened by the immense water pressure.

— C-O-M-E O-N!!! — Captain De Bont roared at the top of his lungs, guiding the Amphibia back into the depths. He was increasing the distance, hoping the monster would soon return to him for the radiation, like a gazelle returning to a pasture where a cheetah lies in wait. For the moment, however, the cheetah was desperately rushing toward the bottom.

The center of gravity shifted, causing the bathyscaphe to slowly rotate during its ascent. The spotlights swung their beams around, encountering no objects. The night vision camera located in the tail was also blind.

— Wh… where is it? — Kayla repeated, gripping the seat belts with both hands.

The Engineer focused on the view. Not detecting any movement, he speculated aloud:

— It’s possible that the source of radiation began to move significantly farther away, and it has returned to the deep.

Kayla always knew that when words like «possibly,» «not excluded,» «maybe,» and everything of that nature were spoken, you couldn’t trust a single word. If you relaxed, the assumed safety would collapse like a house of cards, and life would turn into a thriller: you take a sigh of relief, when suddenly…

The seven-meter-long open jaws of the Profondosaurus slammed down onto the bathyscaphe’s gondola from above, attempting to bite through the layer of ultra-strong plastic and the titanium frame surrounding its edges. Kayla’s screams were no longer isolated. Henry joined her, letting out a short, loud, and utterly visceral curse, conveying the full measure of the sudden terror that had seized him. Under the pressure of the jaws, from which double rows of sharp teeth protruded, the plastic shell of the bathyscaphe cracked. The gondola proved to be slightly too large, and the plastic sphere slipped out of the Profondosaurus’s clenching jaws. The bathyscaphe recoiled a couple of meters to the side, continuing its ascent. The crack in the gondola began to widen.

The cubs of this female possessed suspiciously hard scales. The second continued to drift through the water, making no movements, yet developing an impressive speed. Very strange individuals. The second cub slipped out of its jaws at the last moment. The Profondosaurus intended to make another lunge, but suddenly noticed that it was getting cold around him. The water temperature had dropped again. If it did not return to the source of warmth, which was hidden in the female’s body, it risked losing bodily sensitivity, leading to immobilization, a complete failure of the nervous system, and being pulled to the bottom like a stone. And then, darkness would come.

The cub had to be abandoned. It needed to catch up with the female before its blood circulation deteriorated. It was a matter of survival.

The Profondosaurus retreated to the deep.

Captain De Bont felt sweat streaming down his face. Breathing became increasingly difficult. His limbs were trembling. And none of this was due to exertion. It was the effect of the gamma radiation, which grew stronger with every minute. Sonar signaled the approaching object. Luther opened all the valves of the bow and stern ballast tank groups. The Amphibia’s hull resistance to the water became much less, and the dive speed increased by several more meters.

If any of the bathyscaphes managed to escape destruction, the crew’s rescue remained a matter of time. So now he could descend as far from the surface as his vital forces allowed.

Captain De Bont looked at the instrument readings. The current depth was insufficient. The main thing was to save the strength to press one single key. The rest was no longer important. Driven by the thirst for warmth, the Profondosaurus was closing the distance.

The crack was widening. A thin but powerful stream of water sprayed inside. The on-board computer’s voice rang out from the speakers:

— Attention! Depressurization detected! Depressurization detected!..

— Miss Fox! — Henry shouted, trying to reach the panic-stricken Kayla. — Miss Fox! Look at me! Focus on me! Take a deep breath! — Henry placed his right hand on Kayla’s nearest shoulder and continued to instruct: — Try to move less! We must conserve our oxygen supplies! Deep breath! Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. That’s it.

Henry then moved quickly to retrieve the one-liter nitrox cylinders that were secured between the seats. As soon as the Engineer took the cylinders in his hands, he felt a suspicious lightness in the right one. He took a closer look. The latex gasket on one of the cylinders was compromised. It was empty.

The distance was shrinking with every second. Captain De Bont continued to sit in his chair, relentlessly monitoring the depth readings. He had to take the Amphibia as far away from the bathyscaphes as possible.

A strange sensation filled the tip of his left little finger. Luther touched the finger. His fingernail began to peel away.

— Alright! Miss Fox, listen carefully! — Henry said, trying to shout over the noise of water spraying through the crack in the bathyscaphe’s gondola. — Try to move less! Soon the water will engulf us, and there will be no air left here! We’ll have to breathe from the cylinder! The second one is empty! So we’ll take turns breathing! Try to move less! Agreed!

Kayla gave several sharp nods in agreement.

— Good.

They were left alone in the entire ocean. And that was not hyperbole. Now, self-control and composure determined their chances of survival. The water was rising, and the ascent rate gradually slowed due to the increasing mass. The bathyscaphe passed the nine-hundred-meter mark and continued its climb.

The biologist tried her best to steady her breathing, realizing that the remaining time for their path to the surface depended on it. She expanded her chest wide, watching Henry continuously, who was doing the same.

The water was rising and already touching their chins.

In a restrained tone, Henry uttered:

— Calm down, Miss Fox. Calm down. That’s it. Good. Breathe. Breathe.

A split second before the water reached his lips, Henry managed to throw out:

— Now take a deep breath, and hold it.

The deep-sea monster was already circling the stern, consuming the product of the decaying nuclear reactor. Captain De Bont felt a fierce fever. His mouth was dry. His left eye clouded over. But the depth was still only six and a half thousand meters. So it was too early to press the «red button.» Luther’s body was still fighting the radiation.

Henry brought the nitrox cylinder to Kayla’s lips and slightly turned the valve. The oxygen-rich gas began to flow into her lungs. She soon signaled she had inhaled enough, and the Engineer immediately closed the valve, waiting until the oxygen in his own lungs was depleted and he, too, needed a fresh breath.

Another curving line appeared on the crack. The depth was eight hundred meters. The ascent speed had slowed to ten meters per second.

They stared strictly ahead, making no unnecessary movements, their eyes fixed on the depth sensor.

Outside, even through the immense water pressure and the submarine’s battered hull, the satisfied groans of the Profondosaurus, like an animal’s snarl, could be heard. His left arm began to tremble. His little finger, which had lost its nail, shook especially violently. The fever grew more and more intense. Luther fought with all his might to remain conscious. His focus was on the depth readings and the «OK» key, which Henry Mills had indeed converted into the red button. And this was not hyperbole.

The bathyscaphe crew members were taking their ninth breath of nitrox. Henry checked the needle showing the cylinder’s level: it was sixty-eight percent full. Then he checked the instrument readings. They were at a depth of seven hundred and ten meters. The nitrox reserves were being depleted very quickly — over thirty percent had been spent in less than two hundred meters. They still had three and a half times that distance to cover. These supplies would not be enough for them.

Kayla took another breath and closed the valve herself, returning the cylinder. Henry did not move. His gaze was fixed on the dashboard, where the readout displays were gradually failing as water seeped into the circuitry. The pressure inside the gondola was increasing.

Henry brought the closed mouthpiece to his lips, and a few seconds later, handed the cylinder to Kayla. She opened the valve, inhaling a new portion of nitrox, and suddenly noticed Henry convulse violently. Salty ocean water rushed into his respiratory tract, filling his lungs. He had forfeited his turn, giving his share of the nitrox to Kayla and maximizing her chances of survival.

Panic returned. Her pulse quickened. Kayla’s breathing became rapid, and the oxygen reserves in her lungs began to be used up faster.

Captain De Bont was in a slight delirium. His body was filled with heaviness. Blood accumulated in his mouth. Luther parted his dry lips, and the blood, thin as water and pale scarlet in color, flowed onto the floor. The Captain continued to monitor the depth readings, murmuring aloud:

— One, two, three, four, five. We’ll go digging while alive. We won’t sleep till the break of day. The corpses we must count away…

At a depth of two hundred and ten meters, the bathyscaphe ceased its ascent. The pressure inside the gondola was mounting, and Kayla was already beginning to feel its effects. She did not dare to leave the bathyscaphe. The external pressure was far more severe; she could have simply been crushed.

She looked at Henry’s immobilized body and imagined herself the same in a few minutes. Not understanding why or how it might help her, she nevertheless tried to even out her breathing and slow the consumption of the nitrox, of which less than ten percent remained. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly wanted to do this after looking at Henry. He had asked her to: breathe evenly, move less, and conserve oxygen.

— …The first was shot. The second was strangled. The third was drowned. I’ll be the fourth. And the fifth will be… you.

A grim smile appeared on the face of Captain Luther de Bont. He raised his hand to the key. His index finger hovered over the «red button.» The Amphibia XXI had completed its final mission, reaching a depth of seven thousand eight hundred and ninety meters. The last words Captain De Bont spoke as a farewell, he uttered while looking at the Profondosaurus on the large screen:

— Welcome back home.

In Captain Luther de Bont’s entire service, this was the most powerful salvo. This salvo instantly disabled all systems, the main one being the Profondosaurus’s pulse.

The monstrous surge of energy incinerated every particle of it, right down to the bones. The explosion of the nuclear reactor shook gigantic volumes of water at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, and its traces rapidly expanded in all directions.

Staying inside meant a quick death, and going outside meant dying too quickly. This was precisely the case where there was no choice. The outcome in both scenarios promised to be grim. Kayla’s pulse quickened again. She inhaled and exhaled faster and faster.

The pressure inside the bathyscaphe increased a little more, and the craft began to sink. The depth began to grow. Meter by meter, Kayla moved away from salvation, surrendering more and more to the embrace of death. A feeling of fear consumed her from within, forcing her to breathe more frequently and deeply, and to move as much as possible. Movement is life. That’s what everyone says. But there are cases when even an unnecessary movement of a little finger brings one closer to doom, literally depleting vital resources.

In a panic, Kayla screamed, releasing a stream of bubbles, and then absorbed another dose of nitrox, which evaporated in vain as she let out a cry of despair muffled by the thickness of the water. Just as her scream was unheard, her tears dissolved into the water. Kayla didn’t truly understand whether she was crying or not. Her mind was confused. Nitrox supplies were nearing exhaustion. Little by little, carbon dioxide began to penetrate her lungs: Deadly lightness. Vague images drifted through her mind. Something resembling a conceived fetus which, as birth approaches, turns into a monster having lost all semblance of a human body. A submarine flashed before her eyes. It sailed somewhere far beyond the boundaries of the universe, where the source of doom for the entire human race resides. And in all this, Kayla was assigned some special, outcome-determining role.

One spotlight failed. The pressure and temperature sensors failed. The bathyscaphe continued to descend into the depths.

During the voyage, Kayla had pondered what would happen if their expedition resulted in a lethal outcome for the entire crew. Reasoning as a biologist, she had concluded that, essentially, nothing terrible would happen. Every person, before birth into this world, lives in amniotic fluid. We all emerge from water, and there is a degree of logic in returning to it. But when the matter comes down to personal experience, all theory and rationalism collapse in an instant, forcing one to revert to judgment born of natural instincts and reflexes.

The second spotlight’s beam failed. Complete darkness descended outside. The depth nearly reached three hundred meters. The internal lamps began to flicker. The heating system had failed. Cold water enveloped her entire body. Shivers ran deep into her bones. Any movement consumed oxygen. Yet, lack of movement guaranteed rapid frostbite of the limbs.

Now Kayla had no doubt. She was crying. The gigantic, endless ocean consumed her tears, which imperceptibly dissolved within it.

One cannot subsist on theory alone — Kayla had once said this, responding to Stephen Frost’s offer.

Jerking her finger, Kayla discovered that the valve on the cylinder was slightly ajar. She opened it, and breathing became a little easier. The nitrox reserves were negligible.

Suddenly, something struck the bottom of the bathyscaphe. Kayla was certain that something had gone wrong aboard the Amphibia and that the Profondosaurus had returned for her. But the sensation was strange — like an earthquake. The bathyscaphe was being violently propelled. Kayla averted panic when she noticed that the depth readings were rapidly shrinking. It was a blast wave that was dissipating as it neared the surface. It had caught the piece of metal and plastic, sweeping it along. The bathyscaphe spun with furious force. Kayla managed to close the valve on the cylinder before it was wrenched from her hands.

At the moment of the bathyscaphe’s next rotation, as the power of the blast wave subsided, Kayla noticed some flickering light outside, and then looked at the dashboard. A split second before the sensor failed, the depth read three meters.

As if receiving a second wind, Kayla roused herself, unbuckled her seat belts, and reached for the entrance hatch. She channeled all her remaining strength into trying to move the hatch handle. The handle rotated smoothly. But the hatch cover itself remained stuck fast. The internal light flickered again, and only then did Kayla notice a small deformation at the edge of the entrance hole: the dent left by the Profondosaurus’s jaws.

The bathyscaphe was sinking. The depth increased to eight meters. The oxygen reserves in her lungs were exhausted, and Kayla began to paddle down in search of the cylinder. One last gulp. With a renewed burst of strength that could hardly be called fresh, she once again lunged toward the hatch cover. Another attempt to turn the handle further failed. Out of frustration, Kayla grabbed the round handle with both hands and began to shake it. A faint creak sounded. Something was fundamentally wrong with the hatch. The cover was being restrained from the opposite side. The handle was fully unscrewed. She just needed to push.

The depth was twelve meters. Even the water could not muffle this creaking. Kayla instinctively wanted to grit her teeth from the strain, but pressed her lips together just in time. Her strength was clearly lacking. If Henry had been in her place, he would have long since shoved that cover away. But he had already given too much. With a grinding sound, the cover began to yield, and the gap gradually widened. Kayla found a purchase for her foot and now leaned on it with all her weight. The creaking went from intermittent to incessant.

Fifteen meters. That was the distance separating Kayla Fox from the surface. As soon as the gap was large enough for her body to squeeze through, Kayla rushed out.

How desperately she lacked oxygen. She paddled with her last breath, fighting the numbness in her limbs. The oxygen in her lungs was depleted. Trembling ran from her head to her calves. Sensitivity in her feet and palms began to fail. It felt as though the cold was creeping into her bone marrow. Her fingers were so chilled that Kayla didn’t even feel her hand begin to emerge from the water into the air.

Her head literally burst out of the water, and her lips parted wide as she took the deepest, most welcome breath of her life. That gulp of oxygen proved as priceless to her as life itself. But her numb limbs prevented her from staying afloat stably. Her body slipped back underwater. A couple of seconds later, Kayla resurfaced, and this time she managed to open her eyes, turning her panicked gaze to the clear, starry night sky. She breathed non-stop, greedily gulping air. Her throat became scratchy. Kayla coughed up the remaining salt water that had gone inside. She looked around, taking in the sheer darkness and the reflection of the crescent moon.

Kayla remembered. But she could barely feel her fingers, and this greatly complicated the task. She tried to grip the fourth tooth on the upper left jaw with her fingers. The tactile functions of her tongue remained intact, so Kayla decided to count the teeth with her tongue, and after she reached the fourth, she began to guide her fingers around her oral cavity until her tongue felt contact with her index finger and thumb. She squeezed the bionic implant, as much as her chilled skin allowed, and began to twist it clockwise. Unscrewing the cap from the thread, Kayla activated the beacon that had been implanted in all crew members a week before departure.

The signal was sent.

But where was she? She hadn’t inquired about the Amphibia’s coordinates when they transferred to the bathyscaphes. How much longer could her body withstand this cold? With every second, sensitivity decreased and staying afloat became increasingly difficult. Her shoulders and head trembled. For the umpteenth time, she slapped the water with her hand because her body stopped obeying her and she was being pulled down.

Suddenly, Kayla heard voices. A bright, blinding spotlight emerged from somewhere. A low male voice kept repeating the same thing:

— Ei! Você ouve!? Nadar aqui! Nadar aqui!

But Kayla didn’t understand Portuguese.

18. THE LONG-WAITED SUNRISE ON THE «CATALINA»

She woke up in a warm bed in a closed, windowless room. A bedside lamp with a shade was lit on the nightstand, casting a comfortable glow suitable for sleep. Kayla scanned the room, then looked under the blanket. She was wearing no clothes. She felt her arms and legs perfectly. Her skin color also looked healthy.

The door creaked open, followed by the sound of footsteps. A man of short stature and average build walked in. The stranger had thick stubble, about a centimeter long, covering his face. He was wearing something resembling work overalls.

The man said something, addressing Kayla with a piercing gaze. Unable to understand a word, she didn’t answer, only clutching the blanket tighter. The man began waving his open palms, then made a gesture indicating patience, and left.

Kayla lifted her head from the pillow, trying to figure out where she was. But not even a minute passed before another man entered the room, slightly taller than the previous one, who followed. This man was clearly in charge; this was immediately evident from his gait, his upright posture, and his stern expression with rugged features. He was wearing a light sweatshirt, an unzipped jacket, and black loose-fitting trousers. His face was also hidden under a thick beard, making it difficult to determine his age by sight.

Th The man brought a small stool, sat down near the bed, and asked:

— Parles-tu francais?

Kayla shook her head negatively.

— Espanol?

— …

— Italiano?

Kayla responded with a negative gesture again.

— English, then — the man said with some confidence.

— Yes.

The man rubbed his palms on his knees and continued:

— Do you remember what happened?

Kayla furrowed her brows, rummaging through the depths of her memory, but to no avail.

— You were drowning. We found you in the middle of the open ocean. You suffered severe hypothermia in your extremities, which is apparently why you began to slip underwater. What happened? How did you get into the open water?

Kayla glanced repeatedly between the man speaking to her and the other man standing behind him. Trying to recall events from who knows how long ago, Kayla said:

— We… our vessel was wrecked. And I… How long have I been here?

The man looked at the watch on his left wrist.

— About thirty hours. You are aboard the Portuguese fishing vessel Catalina. Can you tell me where your ship sank? Perhaps there are still survivors.

Kayla affirmed that there were definitely no survivors left besides her.

The man scratched his beard and said in a slightly embarrassed tone:

— I have to apologize to you on behalf of my comrades, but we were forced to undress you. We couldn’t leave cold, wet clothes on your body.

— No, no — Kayla cut in. — I’m eternally indebted to you. I should be thanking you.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the man said:

— It must be said, you’re a resilient one. Our doctor said that a little more time and it would have been too late. He gave you an injection, and in less than half an hour your arms and legs were warm. — After a short pause, the man asked: — So, you’re British then?

— Yes. Why did you think I was French or Italian?

— You look very much like an Italian. Your hair color and facial features.

Another person entered the room. This one had less thick stubble and was much younger, looking no more than thirty. He carried a tray, from which an appetizing smell emanated. Kayla felt an animal hunger awaken in her, having gone without food for more than a day and a half.

— By the way, — the man on the stool suddenly said, placing his palm on his chest, — let us introduce ourselves. My name is Paulo. Behind me is Raul — our sailor and part-time doctor. He treated you. And this — the Captain continued, pointing to the guy with the tray — is Jose. He was the one who pulled you out of the water.

Kayla looked at Paulo and asked with a thoughtful expression:

— How do you say in Portuguese…

— He will understand — the ship’s Captain interrupted.

She looked at Jose with a grateful gaze and said:

— Thank you. Thank you so much. I won’t forget this.

Jose replied with something.

— What is he saying?

Paulo translated into English:

— He preemptively apologizes for his culinary skills. He asks that you try it and tell him how it tastes.

Kayla tucked the blanket under her armpits, covering her torso, then took the plate, put a piece in her mouth, savored it, and asked in delight:

— What is this?

— Stewed squid.

A satisfied smile appeared on Kayla’s face, bordering on a state of mild ecstasy. It was something spectacular after almost a month of eating preserved foods. Noticing such a reaction to his dish, Jose tried to hide his smile. Like some boy, he flicked his eyes between the floor and the sides, embarrassed to look at the undressed girl, especially after having had to hastily undress her during the rescue and witness her full nakedness. And to distract her satisfied gaze from himself, Jose hurried to the drawers where the clothes lay. He brought a T-shirt that likely belonged to him and overalls like those worn by all the sailors on the fishing vessel. Jose carefully placed the clothes next to the lamp and said something.

While Kayla greedily devoured the stewed squid, Paulo translated his sailor’s latest phrase:

— Jose says this is his favorite T-shirt. He’s giving it to you.

Wiping her soy sauce-covered lips with the back of her hand, Kayla expressed her gratitude once again.

— Please forgive us, but there are no other clothes here. But soon you’ll be able to put on your own things. They should be dry any minute now.

— And please excuse me too — Kayla mumbled with her mouth full. — I just forgot my manners because of the hunger. My name is Kayla.

The Captain emphasized her name in Portuguese for his subordinates, who immediately repeated it quietly.

— Well, for now we will leave. We won’t bother you. Get some rest.

The prolonged absence of visual contact with sunlight made it overwhelmingly bright to her eyes. No sooner had Kayla stepped onto the deck than she immediately shielded her eyes with her palm, squinting against the blinding glare. Noticing the girl emerge, Raúl quickly ran up to her. The smell of fish emanated from his clothes, as it did from the entire deck. At that moment, Kayla liked the smell. Raúl said something in his native tongue, then placed his sunglasses on Kayla.

— Yes, that’s much better. Raul, right? Thank you, Raul.

Now Kayla could look around. For a fishing ship, the vessel looked quite large. A crowd of sailors were busy with a net full of fish near the stern. José was among them. The sky was clear. There was absolute calm, creating an ideal setting for fishing.

Raul led Kayla to the bridge.

— How are you? Do you feel better? — Paulo asked as soon as he saw Kayla.

— You know, it feels as if nothing happened. No fatigue, no migraine, no fever.

— In that case, you have at least the essential ingredient for complete happiness — Paulo said. — When you have health, everything else immediately loses its value. But, unfortunately, only those who have experienced terrible physical torment can understand this truth.

Kayla was lost in deep thought over the Captain’s words.

— Today the weather is spoiling us — Paulo continued. — It’s quite a contrast from the last week.

— Where are we now? — Kayla asked, walking around the bridge and looking at the dashboard, which seemed positively ancient to her after what she had seen on the deep-sea submarine «Amphibia XXI.»

— We are almost midway between the Azores and Lisbon. We’ve nearly filled the freezer. So we decided to sail back to the continent, filling the last few empty spaces along the way. Just be patient a little longer. As soon as we get ashore, I will take you to my friend. He owns his own…

The radio rang. Paulo went to the radio unit and picked up the receiver.

— Captain of the vessel Catalina, Paulo Almeida, speaking.

Paulo listened intently to the voice on the line, and after a while, his shocked gaze slowly turned in Kayla’s direction. A few seconds later, he said in a wary voice, as if he himself didn’t understand what he was saying:

— It’s for you.

The Captain held out the receiver. Kayla remembered the beacon in her tooth, involuntarily placing her palm on her cheek. She tremulously accepted the receiver from the Captain’s hand and brought it to her right ear.

— Hello?

A painfully familiar male voice was heard at the other end of the line:

— Doctor Fox?

— Yes. That’s me.

— Stay on this vessel. Do not leave it. We have already sent rescuers for you.

Rescuers — Kayla thought. In a different context, that would have sounded like genuine concern, as if someone worried about her health and life. But at this moment, the word «rescuer» meant something completely different from its conventional usage.

— Did you understand everything?

— Yes. Of course — Kayla replied with restraint.

The male voice on the other end of the line added:

— Now hand the receiver back to the Captain.

Just forty-two minutes later, a seaplane landed on the water near the fishing vessel Catalina.

EPILOGUE

05:38 AM.

Staging Base.

Lizard Point.

Less than fourteen hours had passed since Kayla left the fishing vessel Catalina, and now she found herself back where it all began. The dimly lit room, hidden twenty-five meters underground. The somber tones of the walls. Tables and chairs were made of chromed metal. But something had changed. This time there was only one table and two chairs in the room. The whole setting was somewhat reminiscent of an interrogation room at a police station. The only things missing were the mountings for handcuffs, and the handcuffs themselves.

Kayla was sitting in one of the two chairs with her back to the door. For clothing, she was provided with a dark gray dress made of pure cotton. Although the dress was her size, it did not reach her knees, and as soon as Kayla sat down on the chair, the dress rode up, exposing most of her thighs. Kayla thought that the owner of such a wardrobe was either a nymphomaniac or had obvious relationship problems with men and was trying in every possible way to attract their attention.

As soon as the seaplane moored to the fishing vessel, she was abruptly ordered to board. Kayla wasn’t even allowed to retrieve her clothes. So now she was wearing nothing but the dress, which had to be adjusted almost every minute.

Her eyes, without moving, drilled into the tabletop. If the table hadn’t been there, her gaze would have been fixed on the floor. She fleetingly remembered Captain De Bont, Henry, Tucker, Kate, Hector, and Morgan; how just recently they had sat here in the same room, listening to the categorical instructions of the man who spoke on behalf of the employer. But among her memories, she dwelt particularly on Tucker. Or rather, on what he had become. She recalled the symptoms that had afflicted him the very next day. Running those events through her head for the hundredth time, Kayla pondered just how potent these microorganisms turned out to be. The incubation period was less than a day. Furthermore, how cunningly the parasitization process was orchestrated. The symptoms disappeared as quickly as they arose, only to reappear later when Tucker’s body was completely under the control of the foreign organisms. Kayla recalled the next stage, how quickly the process of transformation — from human into an unknown entity, a hybrid of human and something else — had progressed.

Kayla’s thoughts were interrupted by a sound from behind her. The door opened. The man in a gray suit, named Smith, entered the room. He walked around the table and, pulling out the chair opposite Kayla, spoke in the same low, imposing voice:

— Hello, Doctor Fox. Do you remember me?

Kayla continued to fiddle with the hem of her dress, like a frightened little girl. She swallowed a lump in her throat and replied, trying to hide her gaze from Smith’s face:

— A person is only capable of remembering what is familiar. I didn’t recognize you before arriving at the base, nor do I now.

Smith didn’t answer. Sitting down in the chair, he placed a small stack of papers on the chromed tabletop. Next, he took a pen from the side pocket of his jacket and began leafing through the papers. Kayla looked up from the table and watched Smith as he addressed her again, but in a slightly different tone, maintaining an impassive expression:

— So. Let’s discuss everything in order…

The activated dictaphone recorded all the information from Kayla’s lips. While she recounted the events that transpired aboard «Amphibia XXI,» Smith simultaneously made notes on his papers. No matter what Kayla mentioned — a crew member turned into a monster, a humanoid skeleton, a flying saucer and the signal emanating from it, a Nazi submarine on the ocean floor, or a live dinosaur — nothing changed in Smith’s expression. He sat calmly taking notes, as if listening to a story about mundane work routines.

— Alright — said Smith. — Who among the crew made the decision to prematurely terminate the expedition?

Without thinking long, Kayla answered:

— It was a collective decision. The situation was an emergency, and we were forced to interrupt our work.

— And you say you didn’t manage to take any materials with you? — Smith asked, waving his pen in the air.

— I told you that your people who came to pick me up asked if I had anything to take with me. As soon as I said I needed to retrieve some clothes, they forbade me to return to the hold.

The company was not interested in Kayla’s clothes. They required information about the research.

Smith scratched his eyebrow and left the room. He returned about ten minutes later, carrying a wide sheet of paper. It depicted a map of the Earth showing coordinate lines. Several markers of different colors and a piece of string also appeared on the table.

Smith unrolled the map and continued, now standing and leaning on the edge of the table with both hands:

— Let’s talk about the last discovery you stumbled upon. Let’s go back to that trench where, as you say, the giant animal emerged. How much time passed from the moment the submarine began to move away from that spot until the moment of evacuation?

Kayla gave approximate figures.

— In what direction was the submarine moving?

— I remember that we didn’t have much time to deviate from the route.

— Good. How fast was the submarine moving? — Smith continued to inquire.

— Twenty-two knots, it seems.

— Angle of ascent? Do you recall?

— Yes. Twenty-five degrees trim.

For the first time, some emotion showed on Smith’s face. But it was too fleeting to determine what kind of emotion it was.

Smith made rough calculations and marked the point on the map where the beacon implanted in her tooth was activated. Smith indicated the second point based on calculations of the Amphibia’s depth, speed, and angle of movement, plus the route trajectory. He then took a piece of string, wrapping one end around a black marker. The marker was placed at the approximate location of the trench. Smith pulled the string to the second point and, like a compass, used the marker to scribe an arc of fifteen to twenty centimeters. After that, he picked up a green marker and drew a line on both sides parallel to the arc, marking an error margin of several tens of nautical miles.

Smith straightened his posture and assessed the drawing, after which he sat down on the chair and addressed Kayla, clasping his fingers together:

— Doctor Fox. The company does not renounce its obligations under the contract. Your services will be paid in full.

— But I didn’t work the required time.

— That fact does not negate the company’s obligation to pay the amount due to you. The contract contains a clause stating that, in the event of unforeseen situations arising due to reasons beyond the employee’s control, the employer is obliged to pay the entire amount, regardless of the duration and results of the expedition.

Kayla asked the question that had been brewing in her mind since she was aboard the Catalina:

— What about those who didn’t return?

Smith stood up from his chair and, carefully collecting the map, replied with the same imperturbable expression:

— Try not to think about it.

Unnoticed by Smith, Kayla hurried to adjust her dress, which was creeping higher and higher, when suddenly she sharply clamped her thighs together. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to concentrate on one single spot in her body.

Another second and Kayla might not have made it in time. She felt a plastic packet begin to slide out of her crotch, containing a sealed vial with the Alpha-1 samples.