by Steve Alten
“Now you talk,” Celeste said. “I want to know what’s really haunting you. How long have you been having these nightmares?”
“They started about two years ago, during the trial. Imagine sitting in a courtroom, week in and week out, having to face the surviving parents and spouses and children of innocent people who died brutal deaths, all because you were trying to capture a shark.”
“The trial was a sham. Everybody knows the judge railroaded you.”
“Maybe, but the pressure became overwhelming. I’d go home and stay up all night, my insides torn apart from guilt. Terry was pregnant at the time. We’d been so excited, our first child and all. But the stress of the trial and the media coverage really took its toll. Just before the verdict came in, the baby died in the womb during the eighth month of pregnancy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The night terrors began right after that. The psychiatrist labeled it posttraumatic stress disorder, brought on by feelings of guilt manifested during the trial. For a while the medication worked, but recently, the dreams have been coming back, this time worse than ever. That’s when I realized what was really happening.”
“I don’t understand.”
Jonas took a deep breath. “I knew as far back as two years ago that the Meg’s offspring was growing way too large to control. I think the nightmares were my subconscious telling me to get off my ass and do something before it was too late.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“I did—or rather, I passed the buck. I told Masao, warning him that one day the creature would escape, that we needed to permanently seal her in the lagoon. He agreed, but we just didn’t have the funds. Out of left field, the judge slapped us with a cease and desist order, closing the Institute down and freezing our assets. We couldn’t do anything but pay attorneys and feed the damn shark. It was as if the powers that be wanted us to go bankrupt.”
Jonas stood and limped to the porthole, opening it to take in some fresh air. “I blew it. Celeste, three times I’ve blown it. First, aboard the Seacliff, then by trying to capture the Megalodon instead of killing it, and now, by allowing its offspring to escape. How does the saying go? A coward dies a thousand deaths, a brave man dies but one. That’s me. I should have drained the lagoon and drowned the Megalodon two years ago.”
“Kill the Meg? Are you crazy?”
“A good question. I’m beginning to wonder.”
She stood, moving next to him. He could smell the jasmine fragrance on her skin. He stared at her, feeling himself getting aroused as she nonchalantly undid her robe.
“Celeste, you’d better go.”
She moved closer. “I don’t have to.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, but I’m married—happily married.”
“You don’t seem very happy.”
“You’re right, but I love my wife. Now please—”
“Okay, but you still haven’t answered my question.”
“You mean about feeling trapped?” He closed the porthole, distancing himself from her. “Eleven years ago, I cheated death. I think I was supposed to have died aboard the Seacliff.”
“That’s nonsense. Why say such a thing?”
“Because I’ve seen my death and it has closure. In my dreams I’m descending in the deep-sea model of the Abyss Glider. Angel appears out of the blackness, and this time, I can’t escape. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m convinced it’s my destiny to die where I should have years ago, in the dark recesses of the Trench.”
Kindred Souls
Mariana Trench
Terry stared at the computer screen, rereading for the fourth time the report and technical data she was contemplating e-mailing to the Japanese Marine Science Technology Center.
TO: Dr. Tsukamoto, Director JAMSTEC
REF: File MT-052201-023
Careful review of all pertinent data regarding the May 22nd accident within the Mariana Trench indicates that no other vessels or predatory life-forms were involved. My evaluation of sonargrams from both the Benthos and its surface vessel, Goliath, indicate nothing out of the ordinary prior to the (Proteus) submersible’s loss of hull integrity (see enclosed sonar records, ref. #5/22.10:34.17 through #5/22.10:56.04).
It is my opinion that piloting error was responsible for the submersible accident, most likely caused when the starboard bow plane struck a black smoker (see enclosed photos of debris field).
Geo-Tech Industries has already begun the process of restitution in regards to the four victims’ surviving families. It is our request that deployment of the UNIS array be allowed to continue, and, unless further information is requested, the Tanaka Institute will consider the matter closed.
Terry Tanaka-Taylor
Exec. Vice President
TANAKA OCEANOGRAPHIC INSTITUTE
Terry printed a copy of the letter for Benedict, then typed in JAMSTEC’s e-mail address.
It’s a lie, she thought, but it’s the only way Benedict will let me off this ship.
Maneuvering the mouse, she e-mailed the report, via the Goliath, to JAMSTEC headquarters.
Bells sounded without warning. The chief of the watch ran to his station and grabbed the radio.
“Chief of the Watch here. Go ahead, Goliath.”
“Towed array has detected four bio forms moving south by southeast through the Trench. Bearing zero-one-eight, speed, just under twelve knots. Range to Prometheus . . . fourteen-point-three kilometers and closing fast.”
Terry’s heart raced. Four objects had momentarily appeared on the Benthos’s sonar records seven minutes before the Proteus had gone down. But Jonas had told her Megalodons don’t hunt in packs.
“Goddamn it,” Captain Hoppe swore, taking up position behind his two sonar technicians. “How far ahead is the Prometheus?”
“Nineteen kilometers, sir.”
“Chief, contact the Prometheus, Inform them of the situation and tell them to hightail it back here at once. Helm, full speed ahead.”
Terry felt the vessel lurch forward, achieving its maximum speed of five knots.
“Captain, Goliath now reporting that the objects have increased their speed to eighteen knots.”
“Christ.”
“Sir, Prometheus has come about. ETA with Benthos, forty-six minutes. This one’s going to be close, Captain.”
This one? Terry saw the sonarman wipe his brow.
The captain grabbed the phone from the wall and went on loudspeaker. “This is the Captain. All personnel, prepare for an emergency docking. This is not a drill.”
“Captain, bio forms have just come into sonar range, now appearing on my screen.”
The captain moved to the sonar station, swearing under his breath. “Damn it, I warned Benedict not to venture too far out of range—”
Terry saw the man’s expression change from frustration to fear. She turned around in her chair.
Sergei was standing behind her, his dark eyes furious.
“Why is she here?” he spat.
Terry went limp.
“She’s assisting us at sonar,” the captain lied.
Sergei swore at him in Russian.
“Sergei,” ordered the captain, “you’re needed at the docking station.”
Terry felt herself thrown off balance as the Russian grabbed her hair from behind. She gagged at the smell of alcohol on his breath as he pushed his cheek next to hers, his whiskers scratching her face. “Tonight, we finish our business, Da?”
She twisted sideways and fell to the floor as the captain stepped forward.
“Off my bridge, mister. Now!”
Sergei grinned at Terry. He pursed his lips, making a kissing sound. Then he disappeared down the access tube.
“You okay, miss?” The captain helped her to her feet.
She nodded, unable to find her voice. She forced herself to remain at her station for several minutes, then crossed the bridge and locked herself in one of the bathrooms.
Her hands had stopped trembling
when she returned to the sonar station thirty minutes later. Not one crewman would look up as she walked by.
“Captain, the bio forms have broken off,” sonar reported.
The captain joined the chief at the sonar station.
“Probably sensed the Benthos and decided we were a little too big to mess with,” the chief suggested.
“Maybe. How close were we to the Prometheus when they broke off?”
“Just under a kilometer, sir, but their last recorded speed was twenty-two knots. Whatever they were, they wanted to get to the Prometheus before we did.”
“Agreed. Notify me when the sub docks.” He turned to Terry. “Mrs. Taylor, why don’t you join me upstairs in the observation room. We’ll watch the Prometheus as she returns.”
Still a bit shaken, Terry followed the captain up the access tube’s ladder and onto level A. He sealed the hole behind him, then moved to the bar.
“Drink?”
She nodded.
He poured her a scotch, then activated the mechanism to retract the outer titanium dome.
Terry drained her glass as the heart of the Mariana Trench opened before her.
The Benthos soared majestically through the netherworld like an abyssal blimp. Somewhere below, unseen hydrothermal vents spewed blue-black mushroom clouds of searing hot mineral water at them directly from the furnaces of hell. Enormous patches of spaghettilike tube worms danced through the undulating waves of heat. Directly ahead, a patch of sea shimmered luminescent-blue, as a school of deep-sea bioluminescent jellyfish made their way through the canyon.
Terry stood mesmerized as a plethora of orange, red, and purple objects flowed past the window in every conceivable size and shape.
The captain pointed to a ghostly translucent-blue figure that resembled a screen-saver pattern more than a life-form. “Those are called Kiyohimea. I’m told they’re a species of ctenophore named for a mythical Japanese princess. Bizarre, aren’t they?”
“Beautiful. And those?” Terry asked, pointing to a shimmering blotch of bright orange.
“Deep-ocean herbivores. They’re actually translucent, but the ship’s red light gives their mucus filters an orange glow.”
“They’re wonderful.”
“And dangerous,” the captain said. He refilled her glass. “Sergei is not one to trifle with, especially when he’s drunk. You’ll be safe in the bridge and in your quarters, but don’t venture below E deck. I’m sorry. I wish there was more I could do to protect you. I may be Captain, but this is Benedict’s ship. We live by his rules down here.”
He stared into the abyss. “Look. Here comes the Prometheus.”
A flash of lights, and then the white cigar-shaped sub appeared, moving in surreal motion through dense clouds of rising smoke. They watched the vessel descend beneath the Benthos, disappearing from view. Moments later, a metallic ring reverberated round the ship as the submersible docked into place.
“Captain, those objects chasing the Prometheus? Did they also attack the Proteus?”
“I don’t know. Yes. it’s possible.”
“Possible?” Terry moved in front of him, forcing him to make eye contact.
“Look, I don’t know what they were, only that they hunt in packs.”
“Why is Benedict so quick to risk his life and those of his crew? I know it’s not just to deploy the UNIS robots. What’s the real mission? What’s out there that’s so damn important?”
He’s uncomfortable. He wants to talk, but he’s scared.
“It’s not my place to discuss our—”
“Frightening our guest, Captain?” They turned to see Benedict climbing up through the access tube.
“Just sharing my opinions.”
The emerald eyes flashed a warning signal. “Quot homines, tot sententiae—there are as many opinions as there are men. Don’t allow our kapitan’s opinion to sway your scientific objectivity, my dear.”
“What was it that was after the Prometheus, Benedict?”
Benedict seemed to ignore her, moving to stand before the bay window, his back to them. A six-foot eel-like creature came into view. Jet-black, it slithered its elongated body against the dome just above Benedict’s head. Terry stared at the creature, which trailed an iridescent bulb attached to its lower jaw by a long antenna.
“A black dragon fish,” Benedict said, moving his fingers to and fro across the glass. The creature stared at his hand with its translucent eye, then opened its jaws nearly 180 degrees as it tried to bite down upon the barrier, displaying row upon row of needlelike teeth.
Benedict seemed to relish the performance. “Lovely, isn’t it? Are we still on Earth, or have we traveled to an alien world? Is there a difference? Like futuristic astronauts, we journey through a hostile environment, kept alive only within the fragile confines of our vessel. We are the true explorers of our century, delving into the unknown, facing death at any moment. The seven miles of sea above our heads might as well be seven light-years, eh, my dear, for who could possibly rescue us in a real emergency?”
Benedict turned to face Terry. “You ask me what is out there. My answer is, the unknown. We know more about other planets than we do about this parcel of ocean that has remained unchanged for hundreds of millions of years. Yes, Terry Taylor, there are undiscovered life-forms living in this hellhole. Some are beautiful, others frightening, as our captain would tell us, yet all have survived the ravages of time while remaining confined within this glorious purgatory. I cannot tell you what is out there, but as scientists and explorers, I know it is our duty and our mission to learn.”
“How many lives must be lost in that mission?” Terry asked.
“I take it you are referring to our four departed souls lost on the Proteus. I believe your report to JAMSTEC indicated the vessel imploded due to a piloting error.”
“What about those life-forms chasing the Prometheus?”
“What about them?”
“Don’t play mind games with me, Benedict. It’s fairly obvious that whatever chased the Prometheus could have also destroyed the Proteus.”
“And you can prove this?”
The statement caught her off guard. “No, but had I known—”
“Had you known what? That undiscovered life-forms may exist in the abyss that could threaten our lives? Didn’t your husband prove that years ago?”
“Yes, which is precisely why the United States and Japan have been hesitant to allow other groups to explore the Trench. If JAMSTEC suspected that the crew of the Proteus was killed—”
“They’d be obligated to inform the Americans, who would order an investigation and delay the mission for months,” Benedict finished. “Knowing what you do now, do you wish to change your report?”
“I—no, I didn’t say that—”
“Then, what are you saying?”
Terry rubbed her forehead. “I guess what I’m saying is that I just don’t want to be lied to anymore.”
“Lied to? You accuse me of lying?”
“I think everyone aboard the Goliath and Benthos knew these creatures attacked the Proteus. I believe you altered the sonar records so I’d provide JAMSTEC with a clean accident report.”
“Then it was you who lied.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come, my dear, which one of us is playing mind games now?” Benedict turned to face her, his glittering eyes mesmerizing her as headlights paralyze a deer. “If you suspected that the sonar records had been doctored, then you lied to JAMSTEC. And do you know why?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Because the outcome justifies the deed. Like it or not, you and I are cut from the same cloth. Two explorers who have descended into hell to complete a mission, your mission. You ask me how many more lives must be lost and I say—as many as it takes. Would you ask a general at the dawn of battle how many men must die for victory to be secured? The hazard of war is uncertain. Yes, four good soldiers perished under our watch, but are we not here, risk
ing our own lives, so that thousands more might survive? Pro bono publico, for the public good. Wasn’t that the purpose for creating the UNIS array?”
“There’s a difference between acceptable risk and foolhardiness,” Captain Hoppe said. “You’re sending the Prometheus too far ahead of the Benthos.”
Benedict gave the captain a long, hard look. “Et tu, Breston? Do you question my judgment?”
“What I question, sir, is your need to complete a six-month mission in sixty days. What I protest is your willingness to place the crew in danger.”
Benedict turned to Terry and shrugged. “They condemn what they do not understand.”
“You may quote your Latin at me, sir, but I still maintain my belief that you are taking unnecessary risks.”
“And you, Captain, are a coward,” Benedict snapped. “You allow your emotions to whittle away at the foundation of your character until there is nothing left but fear. Did Columbus delay his journey, or return to Spain upon hearing the first mutinous whispers among his men? Did Lewis and Clark cancel their expedition after sighting their first grizzly? Did NASA cancel the space program when seven lives were lost aboard the Challenger?”
He turned to Terry. “You and I are explorers. We push the extreme and refuse to yield to misfortune, for we know that fortune favors the bold. We cannot bring back the dead, but we can honor them with our triumphs. I know you feel this in your heart, for your own brother died in these waters, did he not?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“If he were still alive, would this noble explorer have turned in fear at the first sign of danger, or pursued his course of action, ever the more determined?”
“He’d have continued on,” she whispered, hot tears welling in her eyes.
“As would I, and I shall not allow the deaths of our compatriots to be in vain. We shall press on into the unknown, prepared in mind and spirit to face the challenges that await us. Are you with me, madam?”