by Steve Alten
“Yes—”
“Then join me now. Captain, order the crew of the Prometheus back on board the sub immediately.”
“So soon? Sir, at least allow whatever life-forms may be out there to vacate the area.”
“No, Captain. I will not allow man or beast to dictate the timetable of my affairs. He who does not advance loses ground. There is much work to be done and we are already far behind schedule.”
“But, sir—”
Benedict moved close to the captain, the two men’s noses almost touching. “You have your orders, Captain.” The emerald eyes displayed menace. “Question me again, and I will have you permanently relieved.”
“Aye, sir.”
Benedict turned to Terry and placed his arm around her. “Come, my kindred soul,” he said, leading her toward the companionway. “The unknown awaits.”
Deep Terror
Tanaka Oceanographic Institute
Masao Tanaka stood before the bay windows of his office, feeling the tightness return along the side of his neck. Crumpled within his fist was a fax he had just received from the Goliath, informing him that his daughter, against his wishes, had entered the Mariana Trench nearly a week ago.
How could I have allowed her to remain behind with Benedict?
He massaged his neck, staring out across the dark blue surface waters of the canal. At the end of the waterway, between the two concrete seawalls, floated an immense barge, on top of which stood a mobile construction crane, towering one hundred feet in the air. A thick steel cable trailed from the crane’s boom and disappeared beneath the sea.
A dozen local reporters and their camera crews had gathered along the seawall and western bleachers. Two news choppers circled noisily overhead.
Masao watched as a half-dozen scuba divers emerged from the canal and climbed aboard the barge. Moments later, the cable grew taut as the hydraulic winch began retracting it from the sea. For a while, it appeared that the submerged object might win the battle. Then, a massive wall of steel rose majestically out of the sea, the lower section of which was mangled beyond recognition.
Masao stared at the battered canal door. He tried to imagine the relentless pounding the creature must have delivered to have caused such damage.
Feeling dizzy, he returned to his desk and fell back into his chair. A strange numbing sensation began traveling up his left arm. He felt short of breath.
And then a vise gripped his chest and he fell sideways onto the floor.
Mariana Trench
Legs quivering from adrenaline and her overwrought nerves, Terry made her way through the pressurized docking chamber of the Benthos, then carefully down a ladder and into the Prometheus. Benedict followed her, placing a fatherly hand on her shoulder.
“Relax, my dear, we’ll be fine. Come, we’ll find you a seat at a station that has a window. I’d invite you to sit in the observation pod, but Ivan Kron, our robotics expert, needs to operate the mechanical arms to prepare a burrow in the seafloor for the next UNIS system.”
He led her through the cramped bridge to a computer station situated against the midstarboard side of the sub. A six-inch window made of reinforced LEXAN was to her right.
“Watch from here, but again, touch nothing,” Benedict warned.
He left her to speak with the sub’s captain.
Terry felt as if the sword of Damocles were hanging over her head. She looked into the faces of the Prometheus crew, shocked to see so many expressions of fear. She realized that many of these men, like her, had simply been brought on board to do a job. They were not soldiers at war and they had not signed on with GTI to foolishly risk their lives. Here they were, seven miles beneath the Pacific, as helpless as sheep being led to the slaughter. Something was waiting for them out there, something large enough to have destroyed the Proteus. Yet, despite the obvious danger, despite the fact that four of their comrades had already died, none would step forward to challenge Benedict’s decision.
Terry stifled a scream as the submersible pushed away from its docking sleeve. Pressing her face to the window, she stared into the abyss, her heart pounding furiously. Why had she again allowed herself to be manipulated by Benedict?
The sub lurched forward. Terry gripped the armrests of her chair. A distant memory came flooding back to her. She closed her eyes and remembered a time long ago when she had been a teenager, flying alone aboard a commercial airliner in stormy weather. At thirty-five thousand feet, the airbus had tossed about violently, unable to climb above the storm. Every bump, every sudden dip in altitude had caused her to squeeze her eyes shut and grab onto the armrests of her seat. She had felt helpless, alone and vulnerable as she and those around her prayed that the fragile vessel that held them would continue to perform in the face of Mother Nature’s fury. Without warning, a bolt of lightning struck the plane. All power shut down, every light within the cabin extinguished. For a terrifying, surreal moment, there was absolute silence. And then the plane fell from the sky, plunging nose first, and Terry and the other passengers screamed and screamed and waited to die like helpless sheep—until a higher power had intervened and the engines miraculously restarted. It would be years before Terry would board another plane. Then, when she was twenty-one, Masao pushed her into taking flying lessons. Understanding the technology had removed her fear, and she had gone on to become an outstanding pilot.
Terry opened her eyes, beads of sweat trailing down her face. Almost twenty years later, the memory still jolted her. She recalled the scent of her father’s cologne as he had embraced her tightly in the airport. She heard the sounds of passengers weeping as their loved ones greeted them. But most of all, she remembered the expressions of desperation and terror that had been lodged on the passengers’ faces just before the plane had fallen from the sky.
Terry realized it was the very look she now saw on the faces of the crew of the Prometheus.
When it came to the sea, Terry had never known fear. Like her older brother, D.J., she loved the adrenaline rush of piloting a submersible, the deeper, the better. At one time, she had actually fought with her father to allow her to pilot the AG-2 into the Mariana Trench.
Now, everything had changed, and yet everything felt the same as it had twenty years before. Once again she felt helpless, a passenger aboard a vessel, this time, vulnerable at a depth of thirty-five thousand feet.
“Sorry, miss—mind if I squeeze in here?”
Terry opened her eyes. A tall rail-thin man in his late twenties was leaning over the computer station before her.
“I’m sorry.” She stood, allowing the technician to take her seat.
“Only be a minute or two,” he said, booting up the computer.
She glanced over his shoulder as the screen lit up. A menu appeared below the GTI symbol. She scanned the list—
Tokamak!
The menu disappeared as the technician typed in several commands, pulling up a navigation chart. He copied several coordinates onto a small clipboard, then shut the computer down.
“Thanks,” he said, returning to his station.
Terry sat again, staring at the computer, her fear momentarily replaced by curiosity. A wild idea crossed her mind. She dismissed it, tucking it away for later.
The submersible increased its speed, moving silently along the canyon wall. Terry peered out her window. Unlike the Benthos, the exterior lights of the Prometheus barely cut through the blanket of darkness surrounding the vessel. A dull patch of light coming from beneath the sub illuminated the seafloor, revealing a landscape of deep gray. They passed over a cluster of clams, all snowy-white, lying in great lines along the bottom. Every so often, an albino lobster or crab could be seen scurrying about, appearing almost translucent within the beam.
But in every other direction was total darkness.
Terry felt strange, as if the abyss were closing in upon her. She broke into a cold sweat, her hands shaking out of control. She began hyperventilating and, on the verge of screaming, she turned f
rom the window and stood, positioning her face just below one of the air-conditioning vents above her head.
“Feeling a bit claustrophobic?” Benedict asked.
She shook her head. “I—I just can’t believe we actually allowed Jonas and my brother to dive to these depths in a one-man sub.”
“Ah, yes, the great Jonas Taylor. Your husband was once quite a pilot. Alas, the pressures associated with the abyss can steal the nerve of even the strongest men.”
“Try facing a sixty-foot Great White shark in these waters, and we’ll see how anxious you’d be to dive again—”
Benedict smiled. “It seems I’ve struck a nerve. I assure you that I have but the highest regard for Professor Taylor, especially in light of his most recent interest in my protégée.”
“Excuse me?” Terry felt her blood boiling. “Are you purposely baiting me?”
“I don’t understand,” he said, feigning innocence. “Celeste has informed me that your marriage is all but over.”
“Your concubine is misinformed. Jonas and I may have had some problems, but we’ll resolve them.”
“Of course you will. I’m sure her newfound relationship with your husband is purely platonic.”
“As I told you before, I trust Jonas. I know he loves me—”
“You don’t need to convince me. Marriage can be a difficult partnership to maintain, especially when faced with the sort of stress the two of you have had to endure. No doubt the last several years have been difficult. As I recall, you gave birth to a stillborn. A tragic experience that leaves a mark on even the strongest of marriages, I should think. Pain like that simply doesn’t go away, does it, my dear?”
Terry gripped the rail above her head, her knuckles turning white. She recalled the image of her doctor’s face as he had informed her, four weeks before her due date, that her baby had died in her womb. Jonas had been consumed with guilt, blaming himself for the emotional burden he had placed on her. And Terry had done nothing to ease his pain.
She focused on Benedict’s bizarre emerald eyes, trying her best to stem the rising tide of emotions.
Benedict leaned closer. “You know, some women were simply not meant to bear offspring. My own mother, for example, died giving birth to me. A miracle she lasted that long. I’m sure Jonas was heartbroken at your inability to carry the pregnancy to term.” He smiled. “Now Celeste, on the other hand, has an inner strength—”
“Stop. Please—”
“—one day she’ll bear children, of that I’m certain.”
She felt herself losing control, exhaustion getting the better of her. Tears streamed down her face.
“Ah, but I envy the man who claims her as his own. She’s a prize, unlike any woman I’ve—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Terry shrieked. All heads turned, eyes staring at her as if she were standing before them stark naked.
A triumphant look appeared in Benedict’s eyes, the point of his goatee quivering slightly as he suppressed a smile.
“Sir,” the captain interrupted, “we’ve reached the location we were forced to abandon earlier.”
Benedict’s eyes continued unraveling Terry’s willpower. “So, shall we resume excavating the location for the next UNIS?” he asked her, as if nothing had happened.
Goddamn you, Benedict . . .
“The crew of the Prometheus awaits your orders, Taylor-sama.”
“Do it,” she snapped, pushing past him to move into the stern. She located the bathroom and locked herself inside.
* * *
Ten minutes passed before she calmed herself. She stared at her reflection in the tiny square of mirror taped to the barren bathroom wall. Tears had left her almond eyes swollen red, her jet-black hair disheveled, her bangs matted to her forehead from perspiration.
Terry felt the vessel reverberate beneath her feet as the Prometheus began preparing a hole within the seafloor.
“All right, girlfriend,” she said aloud, “time to toughen up. From now on, you’re stone. Nothing gets to you anymore—nothing. Benedict and his Russian asshole can go screw themselves.”
Terry washed her face, then pulled her hair into a tight bun. A large seven-foot-tall aluminum locker stood to her left. She opened it, removing a roll of paper towels, drying her face. Then she left the bathroom, and instead of returning to her seat, headed for the observation pod.
Ivan Kron, one of Benedict’s personal staff, was seated within the spherical pod, manipulating the robotic arms. Terry could see a long titanium tube originating from somewhere beneath the sub, running down to the seafloor ten feet below.
“What is that—a vacuum?” Terry asked.
The technician ignored her.
“Hey, comrade, you deaf or what?”
The man looked up, rage burning in his eyes.
Benedict joined her. “Is there a problem?”
“Your man down there doesn’t seem to want to answer my questions. Since I’m still an officer of the Tanaka Institute, I think I have a right to know what’s going on.”
Benedict smiled at the girl’s sudden show of strength. “But of course. What would you like to know?”
“It looks like that tube is sucking up sediment from the bottom.”
“That’s correct. As you know, each of your UNIS robots must be buried into the trench floor in order to monitor seismic activity. The vacuum is infinitely more efficient to complete this task than the sub’s robotic arms—”
A screech of metal filled their ears as the Prometheus was jolted sideways.
“Report,” the captain ordered.
“Nothing on sonar—”
“Engines still on-line, Captain.”
“It was the vacuum,” Ivan called out from within the pod. “We’re caught on something buried beneath the sand. Feels heavy.”
“Can you free us?” the captain asked.
“Not without tearing the vacuum loose.”
“Which is not an acceptable option,” Benedict said. “Ivan, if we move closer, can you extract this object using the robotic arms?”
“I’ll try.”
The Prometheus descended to within four feet of the seafloor. Ivan extended the two robotic arms away from the sub, the claws digging into the seafloor like a giant crab.
The noise rattled the ship, the echo reverberating against the canyon wall.
* * *
The forty-six-foot reptilian creature hovered along the pitch-dark seafloor as her brood chased their prey in her direction. Sensing movement, the big female closed her luminous eyes to conceal her presence.
The giant squid swam into range, its eight stout arms and two tentacles reaching out as if groping the darkness.
With a synchronized downstroke of her four appendages, the big female lunged upward, snapping her flat jaws shut upon the arrow-shaped mantle of her prey. Immediately, the two-ton squid’s tentacles latched onto its larger assailant, the sucker pads and toothlike rims tearing at the scaly reptilian hide. A life-and-death struggle began, the two titans rolling over and over one another.
But Architeuthis was no match for the big female, whose T-Rex-size teeth tore the life from the giant squid in a crushing embrace.
The three smaller creatures quickly appeared, ravaging what little remained of the carcass.
A length of tentacle still dangling from its mouth, the big female paused in midbite. Familiar vibrations beckoned from the darkness ahead.
Finishing its meal, the thirty-three-thousand-pound beast slithered out ahead of the pack, its brood falling into formation behind her.
* * *
After nearly thirty minutes, Ivan had outlined a furrow around the mysterious object, measuring almost eight feet long and five feet across. There was still no telling how deep the object was buried.
Terry saw the radio operator jump. She watched his face go pale.
“Captain, the Benthos reports unidentified bio forms moving in our direction.”
Everything stopped. Everyone on board lo
oked at Benedict.
“How close?” the captain said.
“Five kilometers due west and closing fast. ETA . . . nineteen minutes. The Benthos is thirteen minutes southeast—”
“Continue digging,” Benedict ordered. “We cannot and will not tear apart the vacuum.”
The crew looked from Benedict to the captain.
“You heard Mr. Singer’s orders,” the captain yelled. “Sonar, let us know when these life-forms appear on your screen. Chief, alert the Benthos that—”
“Captain, four objects now on my screen,” sonar called out. “Computer indicates the life-forms to be . . . Jesus, they’re half the size of the Prometheus. Sir, they’ve increased speed. ETA now fourteen minutes.”
The captain turned to Benedict. “Sir, we have to abandon the vacuum—”
“Are you suffering from hearing loss, Captain?”
“No, sir.”
“Perhaps a lack of nerve then?”
“No, sir. My concern is not for myself, but for my crew—”
“Here I am, here I shall remain—until the task at hand is completed.”
“ETA—ten minutes,” sonar reported.
“Benthos still twelve minutes away,” the radioman said.
Terry took her seat by the computer station, her heart pounding. Goddamn you, Benedict, why are you doing this? Is this a macho thing, to show all of us how tough you really are, or do you just get off on toying with everyone’s emotions?
She gripped the armrest, frustrated at finding her life, once again, resting in his hands.
“I’m underneath the object,” Ivan reported.
Benedict looked down into the pod. “Can you raise it?”
“I’ll try.” Ivan began retracting the hydraulic arms.
Terry pressed her face to the window. She could see an enormous black object dispersing bucket loads of sediment as it rose from its primordial burial ground.
Several long minutes passed while the mechanical arms struggled to withdraw its prize.
“One minute, Captain!”
“Vacuum’s free, Benedict,” Ivan reported. “Should I release the object?”
