by Mira Grant
Daniel frowned. “No,” he said. “Mr. Blackwell did, but he didn’t tell us what it was about. He said it could wait until later.”
“So you don’t know.” Luis let his smile die. “They’re here, Daniel. One of them came up the side of the damn ship and took Olivia’s cameraman. Now do you want to let us in, or shall we stand out here and tell the whole story in loud, carrying voices?”
“Let them in,” called Theo Blackwell, from the dark behind the door. Daniel only hesitated a moment before opening the door again and stepping to the side.
Luis was the first into the private lab. He stopped, staring at the glass wall beyond which the dolphins circled. Behind him, Tory focused her attention on the workstation where Hallie still stood, great sine curves of sonar and sound patterns dancing on her screen. Olivia didn’t look at any of that. She stopped next to Tory, eyes tilted downward, so all she was looking at was the floor. That, in the moment, was about what she could handle processing.
Theo was seated. He looked at the trio with weary eyes and asked, “Well?”
“We were on the deck,” said Olivia. “Filming. Sunset panorama. Company orders. Ray saw what looked like someone climbing up the side of the ship.” But that wasn’t true, was it? No matter how many times she told the story that way, it was never going to be true. She had been the one to see the creature; she had been the one to call Ray’s attention to it. He would never have seen it, if not for her.
The thought that the mermaid would have reached the deck and ambushed someone else hadn’t crossed her mind; might never cross her mind. It took too much of the blame away, and that wasn’t fair, or right, or true. She deserved to be blamed for this. Any blame she took, she’d earned.
“We knew they could climb,” said Dr. Toth. She didn’t look concerned, quite; if Tory had been forced to put a name to the look on Dr. Toth’s face, it would have been satisfied. She looked pleased with herself, like all this was going according to some unwritten, unspoken plan. “There’s video from the first mission that shows them on the decks. Imagine should have expected this, and put electrical lines in the railings.”
“That happened during the assault,” objected Daniel.
Dr. Toth turned weary eyes on him. “That happened during the assault, yes. We know because we have the footage. There were disappearances before the assault. We know that because we have the e-mails that made it off the ship before things got too terrible for that sort of documentation. What’s to say the mermaids didn’t send scouts, hmm? What’s to say that some of those disappearances weren’t among people who’d gone nowhere near the rail? This is their territory, not ours.”
“This is the surface,” objected Hallie. “They should know their domain stops where the water does.”
“Really? No one told your sister that ours ended where the water began.” Dr. Toth’s voice was calm. Hallie flushed red and turned her face away. “The trouble with intelligent creatures is that we don’t recognize borders that seem completely natural to those who act on instinct. We find ways to make it to the bottom of the sea. Why shouldn’t the mermaids do the same? They know there’s food here. They know we can live in both places. Why shouldn’t they?”
“Because they don’t belong here,” said Hallie.
“We don’t belong there, but there we are, and here they are, and even with everything we think we know about them, we know nothing. They could kill us all, with us documenting every step of the way, and we’d still know effectively nothing.” Dr. Toth stood. She seemed to loom in the enclosed space. Even Mr. Blackwell turned a cautious eye on her, waiting to see what she was going to say.
“You keep forgetting—all of us keep forgetting—that we’re talking about creatures that have appeared in folklore and mythology all over the world. There was a time when these things were everywhere. Something drove them from the shallows. Fine. I have theories about that, but since most of them involve industrial revolution and pollution, they’re not going to do us any good right now. They retreated and retreated and retreated, maybe because it was easier than fighting us for territory, or maybe because there was a time when we were too much trouble to eat en masse. Ships kept on disappearing. Since the start of man’s relationship with the sea, ships kept on disappearing. So assume the mermaids have never forgotten about us. We wrote them off as legends as soon as they were no longer knocking on our front door.”
Dr. Toth looked around the small group. Her eyes were burning; her hands were clenched. “We forgot about them, but they never forgot about us. They always knew that somewhere out there they had competition, strange and soft and walking on two legs and defenseless in the water. Most of all, they never forgot that we were delicious.”
“So what do you suggest we do?” asked Mr. Blackwell. His voice was as mild as hers was sharp. They balanced each other. Not the way they had when they were younger, maybe, but still, it was balance, of a kind.
“If it were up to me?” She shook her head. “I’d suggest we start this boat and get the fuck out of here as fast as our engines can carry us. If they’ve moved to scaling the sides to see how much food there is for them here, they’re not planning to stop. We’re a day, maybe two, from repeating the mistakes of the Atargatis. But the Atargatis didn’t know. They had no way of knowing. We do. If we die like this, it’s our own damn fault. We don’t get to blame anyone but ourselves.”
“We can’t leave now,” protested Daniel. “Hallie and I are still working on their language. We may be able to talk to them.”
Tory stiffened. “That’s why we were coming here,” she said. Everyone turned to look at her—everyone except for Olivia, who was still looking at the floor. “Before Olivia came to our lab and told us what happened to Ray.”
“What?” asked Daniel.
“Can I use your computer?” Tory stepped away from Olivia, moving toward the keyboard without waiting for an answer. Hallie moved to the side, and Tory began to type, rapidly restructuring the data on the screen. The sonar waves moved to the side, piling up in comparative slices.
“Look,” said Tory. “When we got here, we had these low signals in the mix. That’s their language. When they’re just singing to each other, that’s what we get.”
“That’s nothing new,” said Daniel.
“This is,” said Tory stubbornly. She flipped up a few bands. “The low signals are gone. Where did they go? We know the mermaids didn’t go anywhere, so why did they suddenly shut up? You can’t say it’s a deep dive. We’re picking up signals all the way to the bottom of the Challenger Deep.”
“What are you saying, Miss Stewart?” asked Blackwell.
“This, here.” She indicated a band. “That looks like white noise, but it’s not. If you compare it to recordings from the Atargatis incident, it’s a match.”
“To what?”
Tory didn’t see the person who asked the question, and that was fine, because it didn’t matter: it could have been any of them, even Luis, who knew the answer but wasn’t above feeding her a straight line when it would get them to the point faster. “This is the sound made by the Atargatis engines. The mermaids are echoing it back at us, because they know it’s one of our sounds. That we won’t necessarily find it suspect. They’re mimics. They have three languages. Spoken, signed, and stolen. When they hunt, they speak in the language that they’ve taken from their prey. One more form of camouflage. One more way to hide, until they’re close enough to strike.”
“So they’re coming to us.” Theodore Blackwell finally stood. His legs were steady. Someone who didn’t know better would never have been able to look at him and guess at his condition. “Good. Let them come. We’ll be ready. But if they’re thieves, it’s time we send out some thieves of our own. Dr. Lennox, release the dolphins.”
Daniel looked alarmed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Not in the slightest,” said Blackwell. His smile was quick, and cold. “Now, if you would please take it upon yourself to follow instruc
tions, I would appreciate it. They know what they’re supposed to do.”
“Die, you mean,” said Jillian. “If you send them out there, they’re going to die.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s up to them.”
Tory’s voice was hushed. “You’re really going to send dolphins out to spy on those things? Have you seen how many teeth they have?”
“Dolphins are predators, Miss Stewart. We like to forget that, because we see them as adorable clowns of the sea, but they do just fine without humans to feed them—better, in many ways, without humans to interfere with their choices. They can catch and kill and yes, defend themselves. If the mermaids attack, which we don’t know they will, the dolphins will defend. We only need one of them to make it back alive. We know enough of their language at this point for the intelligence they carry to be invaluable.”
The rear of the enclosure that held the dolphins was opening, a hatch built into the side of the ship sliding wide, allowing the brightly lit, filtered water in their tank to mingle with the dark, unfiltered water from outside. The dolphins didn’t dart immediately for the opening. They hovered, cautious, just inside, keeping themselves contained within the body of the Melusine as they discussed their next move.
Daniel twisted a dial on the control panel next to the lever that had freed them. The sound of clicks and whistles filled the air. The dolphins were arguing.
Human-cetacean linguistics were never going to reach a level where either species could understand the language of the other without mechanical help. The human ear wasn’t designed to pick up the higher frequencies of dolphin speech; the dolphin mind had trouble processing the lower, slower aspects of human communication. They were two species living at different speeds, in environments that changed the functionality of sound. But no one who had spent any time around dolphins could fail to recognize an argument when they heard one. The dolphins were fighting among themselves, and it didn’t show any signs of being resolved.
Blackwell sighed. “The REMINDER button, please, Dr. Lennox.”
Daniel pushed a button on the control panel. A prerecorded message began to play, squeaks and clicks and whistles vibrating through the tank. The dolphins stopped arguing to listen. One of them turned black, reproachful eyes toward the glass, looking at the humans on the other side like they had done something wrong.
Next to Tory, Olivia raised her borrowed camera and began filming the dolphins.
“They look so sad,” said Hallie.
“They don’t want to go,” said Blackwell. “They agreed to this before the voyage began. They’re research animals, allowed in captivity by loopholes in the environmental laws. Imagine purchased them from their previous owners, explained what we wanted them to do, and acquired their full consent.”
“How can you call them animals and say you need consent in the same breath?” asked Daniel. “Dolphins are intelligent creatures.”
“Creatures, animals, monsters—it’s all degrees, isn’t it?” Blackwell shook his head. “If they’re animals, we own them, and as this is a scientific research mission, we’re violating no laws by sending them out to look at the mermaids, even if we have concerns about their safety. This is within the letter of the law. If they’re intelligent beings, then their consent is essential, and we have a contract. One Imagine intends to honor, if they do their part.”
“You’re sending them to die for their freedom,” said Jillian. “Seems harsh.”
“Humans have done exactly that for centuries,” said Blackwell. “If they want to be treated as our equals, this is part of the bargain.”
The speakers inside the tank stopped clicking. The dolphins looked back toward the opening. Then, slowly, with obvious reluctance, they swam out into the open sea. The hatch remained open, a blind eye on the black and bitter waters beyond.
No one said anything. In that moment, in the face of that gaping void of an ocean, there seemed to be nothing to say.
ZONE FOUR: BATHYPELAGIC
Sometimes the mistakes we make can’t be taken back. Sometimes those are the worst ones of all.
—Dr. Hallie Wilson
It’s my job to keep her safe. I do that, I’ve done everything I can.
—Ray Marino
Theo—
I know you’re aware of the importance of this project. Confirming the existence of the creatures in the Mariana Trench will redeem our reputation; bringing one back for the cosponsors of this voyage will restore our bank accounts. We’re not destitute, but we’re nowhere near as comfortable as I would like us to be, especially under the circumstances. There are lean times ahead for Imagine, and for all the employees who depend on us. You’ve seen the same reports I have. You know how much is riding on you.
You have been an excellent right-hand man, Theo. This is your opportunity to prove to me that my faith in you has been well placed. This is your chance to truly serve the company that saved you. Don’t let me down.
—Internal memo, James Golden to Theodore Blackwell, CONFIDENTIAL
I’ve had people come up to me and say, in so many words, that my life’s work is a form of insanity: that by chasing the mermaid from one end of the world to the other, I have lost my grip on reality. That I’m exploiting the tragedy of the Atargatis—as long as I continue to appear in front of crowds like this one and plead my case for the lovely ladies of the sea, the victims of that fateful voyage will never be able to rest, because I’ll keep reminding people of them. Of the way they died. Of the risks they had no idea they were taking when they decided to go looking for a legend. I, alone, will keep hundreds of people from knowing peace.
I’m okay with that.
I am not the first to chase the mermaid from sea to sea, from the shallows to the depths. I am just the most recent in a long line of scientific Cassandras, looking at the waves and saying, “This is not for us. Be careful, be careful, for this is not ours to claim.” If my crime is refusing to be silent, then I’m happy to be a criminal, because believe me, the lovely ladies of the sea, they’re out there. They exist. And if we’re not careful where we sail, they’re going to prove it to us.
—Transcript from the lecture “Mermaids: Myth or Monster,” given by Dr. Jillian Toth
CHAPTER 19
Western Pacific Ocean, approaching the Mariana Trench: September 2, 2022
The dolphins moved through the water like bullets shot from the barrel of a gun. They were swift, unflinching, and heading for their target with a speed that would have shocked even their trainers, who had never seen their cosseted, captive-bred subjects move in the open water.
Twitter, as the one with the fastest responses, led the pod. She was a mature female, young enough for her sense of adventure to remain undimmed, old enough to know better than to expect their descent to end well. She’d gone along with the plan in part because she was bored, in part because she was curious, and in part because she’d been promised tropical waters and no more tanks if she was willing to do this one last thing for her keepers. They were good people. Not dolphin-good, but human-good, which was almost good enough. They couldn’t fulfill the instinctive needs she had burning in her brain, the ones that told her to find a mate who wasn’t her brother or her uncle, to swim, to leap, to know. So she was here, with the deep black sea between her and her freedom.
Her brother, Cecil, was close behind, her shadow, as he’d been since he’d followed her from their mother’s belly and into the warm waters of the pool where they’d been born. Twins were as uncommon among dolphins as they were among humans, and it had been the intervention of those same humans that had allowed them to grow up safe and healthy and well fed, rather than one of them being taken by some predator while their mother was distracted. Cecil was a good thing in the world, and Twitter was glad for him. He was smart. Smarter than the humans who tried to measure and quantify his smartness, even, although they’d never have admitted to that. Of the three, he was the most eager to get out, to explore, and he rode Twitter’s fins hard, almost o
vertaking her.
Kearney, eldest and most cautious of the three, brought up the rear. He had been born in captivity, just as they had; was brother to their mother, who remained safely in her tank, enjoying the lazy life to which she was accustomed. Humans broke the best of his generation, inuring them to captivity, replacing dreams of freedom and the sea with dreams of fat fish in pails and squeaky toys that made the children laugh. (Not all who were broken became clowns for the amusement of human young. Some had turned vicious, all teeth and sullen anger. Those had a tendency to disappear, fading into lie and rumor, forgotten by all but those who had known them. Kearney remembered. Oh yes, Kearney remembered.)
The water grew colder as they continued their descent, down into places where the light never reached, following the sound of their own cries bouncing off unseen walls, unseen dangers. A long fish undulated by, head alive with sparkling lights, and Kearney swung away from the others long enough to snatch it out of its course, letting the taste of it flood his mouth as his teeth broke its skin. It was mostly scale and cartilage, but it was food, and it was food he had taken for himself, taken from the sea as he had been taken, food no human hands had touched, and he was never going back, no, not ever.
There was something the humans did not know. They had learned to speak to dolphins during his lifetime, refining their vocabulary until they could speak as infants spoke, all short, declarative sentences and words of firm assertion. Humans could say yes and no and ask for a fish. They could not discuss philosophy, the finer points of religion, the ideas of things that could only be done in dreams. Humans were solid, gravity-bound creatures, with minds suited for solid, gravity-bound things. They could build a ship. They could not write a poem. And they could not have understood what Kearney’s parents, who had been taken wild, were talking about when they expressed, again and again, their gratitude to their captors, who had swept them away from the open sea during a time of great slaughter.