25. Cyreus
Cyreus
TWENTY FIVE
W inter has descended on the coast with unforgiving fury.
I observe the surface from my position deep beneath the waves, watching ice form along the shoreline and heavy swells hammering the rocky outcroppings.
The water temperature has plummeted, though it affects me far less than it would a human.
What troubles me more is that the researchers' vessel—the Horizon—remains stubbornly anchored in the harbor despite the deteriorating conditions.
Twenty-six days since I last touched Meri.
Twenty-six days of watching from a distance as she shuttles between harbor and Fergus's property, hauling materials, conferring with the craftsmen he's recruited, laboring tirelessly on our future home.
The winter storms have rendered our planned rendezvous impossible—smaller coves too treacherous for her boat, larger bays too exposed for me to surface without risking detection.
The separation has become its own unique torture, sharper than anything I experienced in my decades of solitude. Before Meri, I had adapted to loneliness as a permanent condition. Now, knowing she exists, knowing what we share, the isolation cuts deeper, more personally.
I shift position, gliding through deeper water toward the harbor entrance.
The research vessel's hull looms above me, its sonar pings grating against my sensitive receptors.
They've curtailed active exploration due to winter weather, but their monitoring equipment remains operational.
Twice in the past week, their submersible drone has ventured dangerously close to my territory, forcing me to retreat to abyssal depths.
Their persistence defies scientific convention.
Most seasonal research expeditions would have departed weeks ago, seeking more hospitable waters until spring.
Yet the Horizon remains, its crew undeterred by harsh conditions.
Their determination suggests they've gathered enough evidence to justify the discomfort and expense of a winter deployment.
Something must be done.
I continue past the harbor toward Fergus's cove, maintaining depth to avoid detection.
The construction of our houseboat proceeds there, sheltered from both weather and prying eyes.
From my underwater vantage, I can see the hull taking shape on the slipway—larger than typical houseboats to accommodate the specialized moon pool that will allow me to enter directly from the water.
Meri and Fergus have enlisted three retired shipwrights—old friends of Fergus who ask few questions and appreciate generous payment for discretion. They believe they're building an experimental research vessel with unique requirements. Not entirely false, yet far from the complete truth.
I approach carefully, mindful of potential observers. The afternoon wanes, early winter darkness already descending over the water. At the appointed hour—four-thirty, when the workers have departed—I surface in the small cove to find Meri waiting on the dock despite the biting cold.
She's bundled in layers against winter's assault, auburn hair tucked beneath a wool cap, breath visible in the frigid air.
Even through her bulky clothing, I note how physical labor has honed her already strong form.
There's a new resolve in her posture, a purpose that transforms exhaustion into determination.
"You came," she says, relief evident in her voice. "I wasn't sure with the storm front moving in."
"Wild horses, as you humans say." I maintain a safe distance, mostly submerged. "How is construction progressing?"
"On schedule, mostly. The moon pool is giving us challenges with the seals, but Tom thinks he's found a solution." She crouches at the dock's edge, eyes searching mine in the fading light. "The workers leave at four now with the shorter days. We have a little time if you want to come up."
The invitation tempts beyond measure, but caution overrides desire. "The researchers have increased their drone deployments. One followed me nearly a mile yesterday before I lost it in the deeper trenches. "
Her expression darkens. "They should have been gone by now. No one runs research operations in these waters during winter storms."
"Yet they persist. Which suggests they've found something compelling enough to justify the risk and expense."
"You think they've detected you specifically? Not just anomalous readings?"
"I believe they've established a pattern.
" I drift closer to the dock, keeping my body beneath the surface.
"Their search patterns have narrowed, focusing on areas where we've spent time together.
They're triangulating, Meri. Another month of data collection, and they'll have a predictive model accurate enough to anticipate my movements. "
She absorbs this, her mind already working through implications. "Then we need to disrupt their pattern. Give them contradictory data."
"Or a more compelling target elsewhere." I've considered this solution for weeks, weighing risks against necessities. "Something dramatic enough to draw them away from these waters entirely."
"What are you thinking?"
"A staged sighting. Something that matches their search parameters but occurs far from here, in waters more amenable to winter research."
She considers this, brow furrowed. "The southern coast? Around the Carolinas? The waters stay warmer there through winter. "
"Precisely. A research team already predisposed to believe in unusual marine phenomena would readily relocate if presented with compelling evidence."
"What kind of evidence?"
"Something they can't ignore. Something that appears on their instruments while simultaneously being visually confirmed by reliable witnesses." I've calculated this carefully, assessed variables, identified optimal conditions. "It would require precise timing and coordination, but it's possible."
"And dangerous." Her eyes narrow, seeing through to my unstated intentions. "You're talking about revealing yourself, aren't you? Creating a sighting just convincing enough to draw them away."
"A glimpse only. Enough to intrigue, not enough to confirm.
" I move closer, though the bitter wind across the water's surface reminds me why emerging fully would be unwise.
"A shadow beneath the waves, unusual electromagnetic readings, perhaps a brief surface disturbance—all occurring simultaneously near a populated coastline with regular shipping traffic. "
"And what happens when they chase this shadow to the Carolinas and find nothing? They'll just come back here."
"Not if the evidence suggests migration. Marine creatures follow patterns—seasonal movements, feeding routes. If we establish a trajectory moving southward, their scientific methodology would compel them to follow it."
She falls silent, processing the implications. "This would mean you traveling hundreds of miles from here. Through shipping lanes, past populated coastal areas, into unfamiliar waters."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Three weeks, perhaps four. Long enough to establish multiple sightings along a convincing trajectory."
Pain flashes across her features, mirroring what I feel at the prospect of additional separation. "That's a long time, Cyreus. And dangerous for you."
"Less dangerous than remaining here while they narrow their search perimeters." I rise enough to take her gloved hand in mine. "The houseboat won't be ready for at least another two months. We need to ensure they're gone before we launch."
Her fingers tighten around mine, the layers between us a poor substitute for the contact we crave. "There has to be another way."
"If there is, I haven't found it." I stroke my thumb across her knuckles, feeling the rough texture of her work gloves. "Fergus could assist with the evidence side—perhaps arrange for 'reliable witnesses' to report sightings at the appropriate times and locations."
"He does know a lot of old sea captains who owe him favors." A reluctant smile touches her lips. "And he's surprisingly good at spreading exactly the kind of information he wants people to hear."
"Then it could work."
"When would you leave? "
"Tomorrow night. The storm system moving through would provide ideal cover for the initial departure."
She inhales sharply, unprepared for the immediacy. "So soon?"
"The researchers are analyzing new data from yesterday's drone deployment. I need to establish the first sighting before they consolidate their findings and lock in this region as their primary search area."
The practical logic is irrefutable, though I can see her struggling with the emotional implications. Finally, she nods, decision made. "I'll talk to Fergus tonight. He can make some calls, set things in motion on the human side."
"Thank you." I squeeze her hand gently. "This separation is temporary. A necessary tactical retreat to ensure our future security."
"I know." She looks out over the water, where the last light fades from the winter sky. "I just hate that we've already spent so much time apart because of these researchers. Now it'll be another month, at least."
"When I return, the houseboat will be nearly complete.
We'll never have to endure this kind of separation again.
" I rise further from the water, ignoring the discomfort of frigid air against my skin.
"Whatever environment threatens one of us, we'll simply move to another.
That's the promise of what we're building. "
She leans down, her free hand coming to rest against my face. "Be careful. These waters are dangerous enough in winter. The journey south—"
"I've survived far worse than winter storms." I turn my face to press a kiss against her palm. "I crossed interstellar space, crashed on an alien world, and adapted to a completely foreign ecosystem. A coastal journey is well within my capabilities."
"Logically, I know that. But logic isn't driving my concern right now."