by Steve Alten
Bioluminescent pink jellyfish danced above patches of tube worms, their tentacles searching the ghostly white stalks for fish. Every few seconds one of these carnivores would drift too close to a vent, the hot flow causing the animal’s exumbrella to bloom like Marilyn Monroe’s skirt above a subway grate, sending it floating upward and away from its meal into the habitat of its awaiting assassins—schools of blind viperfish circling above the flows, waiting to feast.
As the docking station passed over a flat expanse of rock, the geology fragmented into dozens of giant squid, their dark camouflaged bodies changing rapidly from red to translucent white and back to dark brown as they scattered, only to reconvene in another location along the seafloor.
Up ahead, Jonas could see a circular pattern of blinking red lights marking the access hole leading down into the Panthalassa Sea.
The platform’s forward inertia slowed, the ship’s helmsman maneuvering the Yellow Dragon so that its lower hemisphere aligned with the circumference of the massive man-made hole. Several of the smart bay windows changed to a real-time view looking down into the passage, the ship’s radiance revealing a deep shaft with smooth walls that resembled polished glass.
Jonas turned to Catherine Ying. “This tunnel … how were you ever able to construct it? It must have taken years.”
“Believe it or not, it took less than a week. Hon Industries created an automated boring machine designed to withstand the tremendous pressures of the trench. The subterrene is powered by a compact nuclear reactor that circulates liquid lithium from the reactor core, generating exterior temperatures in excess of two thousand degrees Fahrenheit.”
“You literally melted the rock.”
“Correct. There is no excavated geology to remove. As the vitrified rock cools, it leaves behind a smooth obsidian-like finish along the shaft walls. The bigger challenge was creating a sensor-activated electrified deterrent to prevent any prehistoric life-forms from escaping the Panthalassa into the Pacific.”
Captain Chau entered the command center. “Mr. Li, report.”
“Sir, the Yellow Dragon is in position.”
“Very well. Deactivate portal shield.”
“Aye, sir. Shield is deactivated.”
“Lower Comm Link.”
“Lowering Comm Link, aye, sir.”
Jonas watched as a twelve-foot-diameter titanium sphere was lowered by steel cable into the hole, its blinking yellow light reflecting along the polished walls, marking its descent.
“One hundred meters … activating Comm Link camera.”
The shaft reappeared on another smart window, the angle revealing a blizzard of particles rushing past the screen as the sphere dropped rapidly through the tunnel.
“Eight hundred meters. No biologics present.”
“Activate Dragon Pod-1.”
The sound of white noise and static filled the command center.
“Sixteen hundred meters … approaching shaft exit.”
The static disappeared, replaced by a soft, focused humming.
“Seventeen hundred forty meters. Comm Link has cleared the shaft and has established contact with the DP-1 relay.”
“Activate DP-1’s GPS. Locate DP-3.”
A map of the Panthalassa Sea appeared along four of the smart windows. The shaft, represented by a blinking yellow light, was located at the center of the grid.
Jonas held his breath as the GPS unit aboard the crewless Dragon Pod-1 searched for the rescue party’s sphere. His limbs began to shake as a full two minutes passed without a return signal.
“Captain, where the hell are they?”
“Patience, Mr. Taylor. It’s a vast sea, and sound does not travel quickly through the Panthalassa.”
“How were you able to track the damaged pod?”
“We had launched relay drones. Unfortunately, the sonar signals stopped transmitting eight hours ago.”
“My wife is aboard Pod-3.”
“And mine is aboard Pod-2. The Comm Link will find them.… Have faith.”
Six more minutes had passed, the map continuing to expand outward to encompass more sea, when a green light mercifully appeared in the far left upper quadrant.
“Contact established. DP-3 is located forty-two-point-three kilometers from the access hole.”
“Access DP-3’s GPS; locate DP-2.”
“Aye, sir.”
A blinking red light appeared within twenty seconds, the GPS map zooming in so that the two spheres appeared on the same grid.
“Got her, Captain. DP-2 is located nine-point-sixty-three kilometers to the north of DP-3.”
“So close?”
“She must have escaped the current,” Catherine offered. “Perhaps they managed to effect repairs on one of the propulsor units.”
“Perhaps … Mr. Li, alert DP-3 that we have established a communication link. Request a status report.”
“Aye, sir.”
Jonas turned to the captain. “How long will it take to get a response?”
“Now that the GPS unit has established a direct link … not long at all.”
Aboard Dragon Pod-3
43 Kilometers Northwest of the Access Shaft
Panthalassa Sea
The Dragon Pod submersible spheres were five stories tall and two hundred feet in diameter, outfitted for daily excursions into the Panthalassa Sea. Levels A and E, set at the poles, held the two Sting Ray docking stations, Level B the command post.
Guests were relegated to Levels C and D. The latter held a centrally located food court and service area that was ringed by a thousand-seat viewing area, the reclinable smart chairs facing out to forty-foot-high aerogel bay windows. “Bait lights” could be projected along the inside of the smart glass to entice the Panthalassa’s primordial life-forms to come closer. Night-vision filters allowed the spectators to see any approaching creatures, the species identified over headphones.
The person most responsible for tracking and assessing the threat of any biologics venturing within striking distance of the Dragon Pod was in the command post, briefing the rescue mission’s four Sting Ray pilots.
Misha Raluca Boltz was not what Terry expected. The tech wizard was in her midtwenties, her brown hair cut in a punk style, tattoos covering her arms.
“So … you’re probably thinking that I’m some dinosaur biologist or something—wrong. Even if I was, how could I identify critters moving in a pitch-black sea beyond the range of our smart glass using nothing but sonar?”
She pointed to a dark window panel and snapped her fingers—
—causing video footage of pedestrians walking down a major street to appear on the smart aerogel glass. “I’m a computer geek; my background is in security. You’ve probably seen something similar to this demonstrated before—the video camera locks on to a person’s face and the computer recognition program immediately identifies the subject.”
Multiple boxes simultaneously framed the faces of dozens of people, a resultant green flash causing the camera to move on, a red flash locking on to the terrorist suspect.
“Pretty basic, right? Using this same technology, I created an identification system with the monsters in the Panthalassa. Check it.”
The image changed to an animated shot of Dragon Pod-3 moving across the center of the screen, surrounded by an escort of sixteen bright specks, set in a grid pattern.
“So, this is in real time. See these tiny dots? Each one is actually a drone. Here, I’ll do an intro.”
She snapped her fingers again, causing the image to zoom in tight on a small aerogel sphere equipped with high-tech camera lenses. “Meet Z.I.G., our Zoological Identification Grid. Ziggy operates in a fashion similar to the Chinese security system, only instead of homing in on the subject’s face, it identifies the life-form by its eyes. While eye shapes are species-unique, the animal’s cornea markings are as individual as our fingerprints. Z.I.G. not only catalogues the biologic, it can also tag anything within range of our drone, allowing us to t
rack a specific monster across the Panthalassa.”
Terry clapped—embarrassing Dulce. “Can you show us what’s out there?”
“NP. Ziggy, identify occupants in each sonar quadrant using Standard Triage Protocol.”
“Triage protocol?”
“Ziggy prioritizes one quadrant over another based on the threat potential to the ship.”
* * *
The grid reappeared, the image zooming in on a lone blip heading west in Quadrant-14.
“Species identified: Tylosaurus proriger. Length: Seventeen-point-six meters—fifty-eight feet. Weight: seventy-three tons. This animal has not eaten in three days. Threat Potential: six percent.”
“How did Ziggy know it hasn’t eaten?” Dulce asked.
“There is a specific spot on the cornea that corresponds to blood sugar levels.”
Quadrant-13 lit up just ahead of the Tylosaur, revealing multiple blips.
“Species identified: Cretoxyrhina. There are eighteen of these sharks present. Average length: eight-point-eight meters—twenty-nine feet. Average weight: five-point-two tons. These animals are being stalked by Tylosaurus proriger. Threat Potential: one-point-five percent.”
Quadrant-2 lit up, revealing a rectangular blip heading northeast several kilometers above Dragon Pod-3.
“Species identified: Leedsichthys. There are sixty-eight Leeds’ fish in this school. Average length: twenty-none-point-eight meters—ninety-eight feet. Average weight: ninety-five tons. These animals are stalking krill. Threat potential: seven percent.”
“Why seven percent?” Duane Saylor asked. “I thought these oversized tuna were gentle giants.”
Misha nodded. “Cows are gentle giants too … unless you find yourself in the middle of a stampede.”
Quadrant-5 lit up, flashing on and off every few seconds.
“APEX PREDATOR WARNING: Carcharodon megalodon. Length: twenty-four-point-six meters—eighty-one feet. Weight: ninety-five tons. This animal has not eaten in six days. Threat Potential: seventy-six percent.”
Misha’s expression darkened as she tapped the Comm Link on her shoulder. “Captain, we have a potential threat—”
“Yes, Ms. Boltz, we see her. Let us hope she is after the Leeds’ fish.”
The pilots and tech officer stared at the smart screen as the oval blip closed on the large rectangular cluster to the northeast.
Terry glanced down at her hands, her right arm shaking. Eighty-one feet … It’s bigger than Angel.
“WARNING: APEX PREDATOR IS CHANGING COURSE. New heading is south by southeast on course One-Six-Three.”
Misha’s eyes widened as Drone-6 disappeared from the screen. “That bitch ate my F-ing drone.”
“She didn’t eat it,” Dulce said. “The electronic signals were pissing her off, so she destroyed it. Now she’s headed straight for us.”
Agricola Aquarium
Vancouver, British Columbia
The tank’s dimensions rivaled that of the Tanaka Lagoon—and that was where the similarities ended.
Maintained by the most advanced aqua-filtration systems in existence, the saltwater facility was a pristine, turquoise-blue medium that was oxygenated and fortified with nutrients in accordance with its occupant’s own internal needs—all of which were monitored around the clock, thanks to biosensors injected into the Megalodon’s bloodstream prior to its release into its new home.
Six-inch-thick aerogel bay windows encircled the lower levels; seventy-five hundred padded, all-weather smartseats were being installed in the retractable domed arena. Two separate feed aquariums, each half the size of the Meg Pen, were stocked with salmon that could be dispersed through connecting underwater channels, the live bait forcing Belladonna to hunt for her food.
Marine biologist Pam Wassom chided David when he described how he had been feeding Luna. “How is she ever going to get any exercise or stimulation if you feed her pre-killed fish? Are you afraid she won’t be able to catch them?”
“I don’t know … maybe.”
“Ridiculous.” She paused by the next set of underwater bay windows, eyeing David while she waited for the Meg to circle the tank. “Tell you what—why don’t you bring me down to the institute for a few weeks; I can reorganize Luna’s entire routine for you.”
“I can’t really afford you right now.”
“Let me speak with Sabrina; I’m sure I can get her to cover it. After what you went through to capture Belladonna, I’d say it’s the least we could do.” Pam winked. “Maybe I can figure out a way to bribe you to take me on a dive with Luna?”
“I already have a girlfriend.” Dope … you said that aloud.
“What did you say?”
“What did I say?”
“That’s what I’m asking you!”
“Luna … she thinks she’s my girlfriend. Putting you in the tank with me … she could get jealous. I wouldn’t want to risk—”
The Megalodon’s impact with the aerogel glass startled both shark trainers.
Belladonna circled back, her right eye peering through the glass at David.
“There’s one shark that doesn’t think it’s your girlfriend.”
David nodded, a bit unnerved. Pleased to eat you …
His new iPhone vibrated in his back pocket. “Hello?”
“David?”
“Speaking.” The woman’s voice sounded familiar. “Who is this?”
“It’s Jackie. David, I need to see you right away.”
“Jackie, I already have a girlfriend.” He glanced at Pam, who was shaking her head.
Pivoting on his heels, he walked past empty bleachers to the exit. “Sorry, I’ve had like no sleep. What’s up? Are you back East?”
“David, I captured the Lio. She’s sedated and in the Mogamigawa’s hold. We’re heading up the California coast; I’ll be outside the canal in four hours.”
“Damn … look at you! But why are you calling me?”
“My crew and I have taken the ship. Help me and I can force the crown prince to pay you all the money he owes you.”
Panthalassa Sea
The Queen of the Panthalassa Sea nudged its prey, the minute electrical fluctuations emanating from the dying creature’s carcass causing the tens of thousands of ampullae located beneath its snout to flutter. The “taste bite” that had crushed the strange turtle had immediately determined it was not a source of food. Still, the killer remained curious, its nocturnal vision strangely attracted to the faint sparks of shorting circuits coming from within the turtle’s clear, pulverized shell.
The Megalodon that circled the remains of Drone-6 was bigger than any of its ancestors, which had dominated the surface waters for much of the last thirty million years simply because all of the subspecies sealed within the Panthalassa Sea were bigger—an evolutionary hiccup of survival that led to a domino effect among the members of this isolated food chain. Size, however, was not the only trait that distinguished the Megs of the Panthalassa from their cousins living in the Mariana Trench.…
For all its breathtaking beauty, albinism in the animal kingdom is a curse … a birth defect that eliminates the affected creature’s ability to camouflage itself from its prey, calls unwanted attention to its pack, and ultimately leads to abandonment, isolation, and death for its victim.
Albinos do not survive very long in the wild.
Albino Megalodons had no chance in the Panthalassa Sea.
The volcanic activity that had created the Mariana Islands was also responsible for sealing a magma shelf that sequestered ancient creatures within the sea’s bountiful, tropical depths while concealing it beneath the always evolving Mariana Trench seafloor. Before that separation occurred, all pigmentless life-forms living in the abyss had either relocated to the Philippine Sea … or perished.
The albino outcasts would eventually return to the Mariana Trench, lured into the abyss by the warmth pumping out of a new generation of hydrothermal vents and the chemosynthetic food chain it spawned.
&
nbsp; * * *
The Megalodon circled the drone, creating new angles for its sensory array to search the abyss. Much like the Dragon Pod, the shark generated its own grid, only the predator’s was infinitely more detailed and operated over a far greater distance—and in four dimensions instead of three.
Its sense of smell was so acute that it could detect a single speck of blood or urine in ten billion parts of water. The nest of ampullae of Lorenzini located beneath its snout was so sensitive to electrical fluctuations that it could home in on one 10-millionth of a volt over miles of sea or the single beat of another life-form’s heart. Its sense of taste could determine the energy content of its prey; its sense of hearing allowed it to maintain perfect balance and equilibrium. And while sight was the least important sensory attribute in a sea of perpetual blackness, its eyes had evolved enough to discern movement in an isolated environment where natural light had never existed.
And then there was its lateral line.
Located beneath the Meg’s skin along either side of its body was a channel composed of a gel-like substance containing millions of sensory cilia attached to nerve endings—all of which were linked directly to the shark’s brain. As the predator moved through the water, this sensory array detected minute changes in pressure waves occurring between its own body and other objects within its environment, allowing it to “feel” the sea.
It felt the school of Leeds’ fish disrupting its kingdom to the north, but the energy expenditure necessary to separate a solitary cow from the herd wasn’t worth it. The Cretoxyrhina would scatter upon its approach, forcing it to expend valuable energy for a shark whose entire fat content was limited to its small liver. This left the Tylosaur—an easy kill possessing internal organs that could fuel the Megalodon for several days.
Abandoning the drone, the Meg locked on to its quarry to the south—
—its lateral line suddenly registering the faint presence of an immense object to the east.