Treasure of the Abyss (The Kraken Book 1)

by Tiffany Roberts

  “You haven’t been here!”

  He gritted his teeth and released a long breath through his nostrils. She was right. He’d been gone often, and for long periods of time; why wouldn’t she be restless, staring at the same walls every day?

  Closing the remaining distance between them, he stopped in front of her and looked into the unfathomable depths of her eyes. “I am sorry.”

  Macy placed her hand on his chest. He covered it with his own and leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “Don’t pull away from me, Jax,” she said softly.

  “I’m not trying to.” He closed his eyes and took in her scent, letting it wash over his senses and permeate him. It had changed subtly over the last few weeks, and, somehow, had become only more alluring to him.

  She drew back and smiled. “And I was safe. I’ve been with Arkon since I left the cabins, and I have the weapons you gave me.”

  Arkon nodded when Jax glanced at him. He trusted Arkon to risk his life in defense of Macy, but it was still hard to accept that he’d allowed her protection to fall to someone else.

  “She is quite openly appreciative of my work,” Arkon said. “Perhaps you should have her teach you how to properly compliment me.”

  The high, sweet sound of Macy’s laughter shattered Jax’s lingering worry; here, now, all was well, and Macy was safe and happy. Even if it was fleeting, it was precious enough not to be ignored or dismissed.

  “What are the two of you doing in here anyway?” Jax asked. The room wasn’t often visited by kraken — not that many of them were.

  “Macy knows how to read.” Arkon’s smile was broader than Jax had seen in a long while.

  He looked from Arkon to Macy and back again questioningly. “What does that have to do with your being here?”

  “She thinks she might be able to access new information on the Computer. About our kind, about this place…about everything.”

  “Can you?” Jax returned his attention to Macy.

  “I can try. You got here right after we did, so I haven’t done anything yet.”

  Jax and Arkon moved to watch over Macy’s shoulder as she brought up a projected screen full of symbols. The images moved when her fingers touched them, sliding aside or vanishing altogether, only for new symbols to appear.

  “Welcome,” said the Computer. Its voice, emanating only from the console, seemed smaller. “Please enter your authorization code to proceed.”

  “A code? Hmm…” Macy tapped at the screen.

  “Access denied.”

  She touched several more symbols.

  “Access denied.”

  Macy stared down at the console, drumming her fingers atop it. She raised her hand to the projection, finger extended, and stopped, glancing at Jax. “What’s the code you use to get into this building?”

  Jax leaned forward, and Macy stepped aside to allow him a closer look at the symbols. They were all meaningless to him, but a few were familiar — he realized suddenly they were same as those beside the entry door.

  “This one first,” Arkon said, pointing to one. Macy pressed it.

  Slowly, Jax and Arkon ran through the remaining symbols. They were arranged in a different order on the projection, and it was difficult to piece together a sequence that had long ago become second nature. His hand knew the keypad’s buttons by touch, remembered the distance between each, the order in which they needed to be pressed.

  “Access granted,” the computer said, and the screen changed abruptly.

  “I can’t believe that actually worked.” The screen cast a soft blue glow upon Macy’s smiling face as she read. “Halorium Project?”

  “Halorium is a stone found on the ocean floor,” Arkon replied. “It emits blue light. Our ancestors were tasked with gathering halorium for the humans who dwelled here.”

  “It does strange things to human machinery.” Jax frowned; the stuff was rare, but it was out there… Would it interfere with Macy’s suit like it did everything else?

  Macy swiped her finger across the screen, and an image appeared. It was a shard of halorium, spinning in place and pulsing light, so real that Jax wondered if he could reach out and touch it.

  “Computer, what is the Halorium Project?” Macy asked.

  “The Halorium Project is a joint venture between Tureon Industries and the Interstellar Defense Coalition with the goal of harvesting a rare mineral on Halora. It was founded when scouting ships discovered halorium deposits after first landing on Halora, in 2455 SGY.”

  “What is SGY?”

  “Standard Galactic Year. A system put in place so colonies across the galaxy could operate on a unifying measure of the passage of time, regardless of local planetary orbits and rotations.”

  “So how long ago was 2455?”

  “Three hundred and seventy-seven Halorian years ago.”

  “What did they want with halorium?”

  “Halorium emits a form of radiation that has not been found anywhere else in the known galaxy. This radiation has proven harmless to living creatures during tests conducted in this laboratory. Because of its unique properties, halorium can be used as a powerful and extremely long-lasting source of energy. This facility is powered entirely by halorium.”

  Macy lifted her hand and touched the tip of the shard; its movement altered, and it tumbled slowly, end-over-end. “Jax said it does strange things to human machinery.”

  “Specifically, the energy fields emitted by halorium interfere with electronics. It must be kept in specially shielded containers to protect such devices from its effects. The halorium reactors of this facility are shielded at three times the recommended standard to protect the facility’s operations.”

  “Why did the kraken mine it?”

  “I do not understand your question,” the computer said.

  Macy looked at Jax and Arkon.

  “Who are the kraken?” she asked.

  “The kraken was a mythological sea creature from ancient Earth legends,” the computer replied. A new picture flashed up, this time flat. It was black and white, a series of lines that came together into a coherent image — a huge, tentacled creature dragging a ship with three masts into the water. “It was believed to be a cephalopod of immense size, and ancient sailors believed it was capable of pulling men overboard, breaking ships in half, and dragging vessels into the sea.”

  “It is the name our people took,” Jax said, “to make humans fear us.”

  “What did they call you before that?”

  He shook his head, staring at the image. He’d never seen anything like it. Arkon was even more intent, leaning so close his face nearly touched the projection, eyes roving over every line. There were clear similarities between the kraken of Halora and the one depicted in the picture. It made Jax proud, for some reason, but also sorrowful. “We don’t know. The kraken cast off the name given to them by humans many years before my birth.”

  Macy tilted her head. “Computer, who harvested the halorium?”

  “Initially, it was harvested by human divers. After several fatalities connected to electronic and equipment failure, halorium harvest was shifted to octopoid laborers.”

  “Octopoid,” Macy mumbled, glancing down at Jax’s tentacles. “Tell me about the octopoids.”

  “Octopoid is an unofficial term used to designate a genetically modified, aquatic race of humanoids. They were created by an integrated team of Tureon and IDC scientists, using a splice of human and cephalopod DNA as their basis. The octopoids were designed to be intelligent enough to follow orders and are adapted specifically to Halorian oceans.”

  “What does that mean?” Jax asked, looking from the screen to Macy. “Human and cepho-pod?”

  “Computer, show me a cephalopod.”

  The screen changed, displaying a creature very much like the kraken it had before. But — like the halorium shard — this creature looked like it was there. It had eight tentacles, all covered with suction cups along their undersides, and a bu
lbous head attached directly to its lower half. Its eyes were familiar; they were the same as Jax’s, or Arkon’s, or any of their people’s.

  “I think…” Macy turned her face toward Jax, “you’re part human and part cephalopod.”

  Jax’s hearts thumped as he exchanged a glance with Arkon. He didn’t understand much of what the Computer had said, but Macy’s summary was clear. The kraken had always known they’d been created by humans, but had never known — with any degree of certainty, anyway — they were related to humans.

  Macy grasped his wrist, lifted his hand, and pressed their palms together. “It would explain why we’re so similar.”

  He bent his fingers over her fingertips. “And yet so different.”

  “Tell me more about the octopoids,” Macy said, shifting closer to Jax.

  “The octopoids were designed to possess heightened strength, speed, and reflexes. The regenerative capabilities of their cephalopod cousins were also enhanced, allowing them to heal from wounds at an accelerated rate, averaging eight-point-three times the speed of the natural human healing process. The IDC had intentions to use similarly modified beings in potential military scenarios, but the octopoids in this facility were used only to harvest halorium. They were designed to exhibit low fertility rates and a low occurrence of female chromosomes in the overall population, counterbalanced by a relatively short gestation period of seventeen weeks. The average life expectancy of octopoids is believed to be comparable to humans, though conclusive data has never been obtained.”

  “Our numbers dwindle because this is how they made us?” Jax asked.

  “It is no wonder there are so few females, and younglings are so rare,” Arkon said. “It is no blight on our people. It was designed into us from the beginning.”

  “But why?” Jax asked. He looked back at the screen, as though it would show him an answer he could understand. “Why were kraken…why were octopoids made with low fertility and few females?”

  “Those features were included as a means of population control,” the computer explained. “In order to save on space within the facility, it was more practical to allow the octopoids to reproduce naturally and keep the labor force populated. Low fertility and fewer females resulted in far more manageable and even population growth.”

  “So, we were not merely their slaves, they controlled our young, too? They…restricted our ability to continue our race?” Jax’s stomach twisted, and his muscles were tense; the wrongs had been committed hundreds of years before, but their effects had never ceased.

  “We existed only to fulfill a specific purpose for them,” Arkon said. “And even after they were gone, we never broke out of their shadow. We exist, and nothing more. Even that has been threatened by the very beings who created us.”

  “Why did the humans leave this place?” Macy asked them. “No one in The Watch knows of it, or about any of you, so where else would they have gone?”

  “They didn’t leave.” Jax met her gaze; the first hints of fear broke through her confusion.

  She turned her attention back to the screen. “Computer, what happened to the humans in the facility?”

  “Macy…” To his own ears, Jax’s tone was strange, sad, reluctant.

  “Official records are incomplete. At the time of the incident, several IDC guardsmen reported that the octopoid population had gone into open revolt against the facility’s human inhabitants.”

  The screen changed. Jax had never seen images from the uprising — none of them had — but he knew it for what it was immediately.

  Another set of ghosts.

  A human male appeared in the projection. The room behind him had to be one of the cabins, just like the one Macy had chosen as a den. Droplets of water rolled down his face; he wiped at them absently with the back of his hand and smeared blood over his cheek from a cut near his eye.

  “This is Ensign Matherson of the Interstellar Defense Coalition, officer number three-two-seven-alpha-nine. If anyone is in range to pick up this transmission, this facility is being overrun. The—”

  Frantic shouts echoed from the hallway behind him. He turned quickly, lifting a gun and pointing it toward the door. “We are being overrun by those…those things the scientists made. Those fucking octo-freaks or whatever the hell they call them. Word is they’ve already blown a hole in the side of the sub bay and flooded it.”

  The human — Ensign Matherson — turned back toward whatever device had captured his image. “We have the few surviving civvies and scientists hunkering down in their cabins, but we don’t have the supplies to last long. We need immediate support and evacuation. Please, we ne—”

  He jumped as a series of booms erupted from the hallway.

  Another human in the same clothes as Matherson entered the doorway. “They’re coming, Mathers! We gotta fall back!”

  Matherson looked back at the recording device. “Send help ASAP!”

  He ran into the hallway and glanced to his left. There was more shouting, and the two humans raised their weapons and fired, producing more of the booms, even louder now than before. Something hit the other human — it looked like a harpoon, to Jax — and the man fell, knocking Matherson to the floor face-first.

  Before Matherson recovered, a large, dark figure leapt onto his back. A kraken.

  The kraken wrapped his tentacles around Matherson’s wrists and yanked them apart, the gun clattering away. Matherson struggled to turn and face his opponent as the kraken reached for something beyond the doorframe. A moment later, its hand reappeared, clutching the harpoon.

  Matherson screamed. His screams continued for many heartbeats as the kraken jabbed the harpoon into his back repeatedly, splattering himself with blood.

  Macy’s hands flew up to cover her mouth.

  More kraken moved past the doorway. Distant pops and screams echoed through the hall.

  The screen flickered and reverted to its previous state.

  “That was the final transmission sent from this facility before the communications array became nonfunctional, sent only on secure military channels,” the computer said. “Contact was maintained with human survivors in cabins two, ten, thirteen, and twenty-six following the incident. Communications ended twenty-one days later, and the residents of those cabins have remained unresponsive in the time since.”

  Macy had gone pale, her expression a blend of shock and horror. Jax had known what happened here, but he’d never seen it. This was the first time he felt shame for the actions of his ancestors.

  “Macy, are you all right?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched; his chest constricted.

  “They would have done that to me.” She pressed a hand to her stomach.

  “I would not have allowed it. I would have done everything in my power to protect you, and beyond.”

  “I…I don’t—” Macy turned and ran, crossing the room before she doubled over and vomited in the corner.

  Jax hurried to Macy’s side. He eased down beside her, put his arms around her shoulders, and brushed her hair out of her face. Was this another bout with her recent illness, or a result of what she’d seen?

  “I need to lie down,” she whispered.

  “Anything.” Jax gently scooped her into his arms and rose, holding her against his chest. She curled into him.

  “There are dead bodies in those rooms.”

  “Just more ghosts.” He smoothed back her hair as he carried her into the hallway, glancing over his shoulder. Arkon nodded, his expression troubled.

  Jax turned his attention forward. He wouldn’t think about the dead bodies, or the Uprising. Macy was here now, alive…and he would keep her that way.

  Chapter 19

  Macy remained in bed for the rest of the day after the computer’s revelations, overcome with shock and nausea. She ate nothing that evening, and very little through the following week.

  She was as worried as Jax; each time he came with food, already filleted and cooked, it sent her stomach into
revolt. All she’d been able to keep down was a bit of naba. She hated that Jax had to venture onto land by himself to obtain it.

  Arkon visited her several times throughout the week, relaying new information he’d gleaned from the computer. Now that he knew how to access it, he spent hours questioning it, delving ever deeper into its data.

  Finally, as the week ended, Macy woke without queasiness. She rose cautiously and slipped out of bed. Jax was nowhere to be seen; he must’ve left while she slept. After relieving herself and showering, she felt better than she had in a long time. Her middle seemed rounder, as though — despite eating almost nothing for days — she’d gained weight.

  As she dressed, she nibbled on one of the last pieces of naba. Had Jax gone out to find more? Wherever he was, she couldn’t sit here and wait; this was the first time she’d felt well in weeks. She strapped on the thigh holders for her knife and gun and left.

  Macy had just stepped into the main building when she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Startled, she retreated, fixing her gaze on an open doorway down the hall. No light came from within the chamber.

  The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

  “Hello?” she called.

  No answer.

  Frowning, Macy approached the doorway. Her hand fell to the butt of her gun. Something slid across the floor inside.

  “Hello?” she repeated.

  A small, bald head poked out from the doorway, around the height of Macy’s waist. Two big, yellow eyes met her gaze.

  It took Macy a moment to realize what she was looking at — a kraken, but far smaller than any she’d yet seen. This was a child. A female child, if its delicate facial features and body structure were any indication.

  Crouching, Macy smiled at the kraken. “Hello.”

  The girl’s eyes dipped, and her lips twitched into a smile.

  “Do you know who I am?” Macy asked.

  “Human.”

  “Yes, but I won’t hurt you. My name is Macy. What’s your name?”

  The kraken child hesitated, glancing over her shoulder nervously. “Melaina.”

  “That’s a beautiful name. What brings you here, Melaina?”