Chapter 13 #2
He explained, “Our teams scouted out a limestone cave, and we’re getting ready to mine it. Before we can, we have to secure the entrance—a grate to keep the wildlife out. The specialists will handle installation. The rest of you will make sure nothing interferes.”
As he finished, the hatch ground shut. Greg’s radio crackled: “Securing all exits.”
The vessel shuddered and my stomach dropped as we lowered.
I pressed, unable to help myself. “Interferes?”
He lifted a tray of steel darts, each tip capped in electric blue. “Wraith-sharks, mostly. These won’t bleed them. That’s the key: no blood, no frenzy. Aim for the gills if you have to use them.”
My stomach tightened at the thought. Sharks.
I’d only seen them as faded photographs in our old encyclopedias, all teeth and empty eyes.
Out here, the idea of meeting one made my pulse thrum uncomfortably in my ears.
I forced my face into something neutral and nodded, hoping no one noticed the sudden tension in my posture.
My palms prickled with nerves, but I kept them out of sight.
Greg gestured down, and I realized the floor beneath us was glass.
Below, five small vessels clung to the underside: mini submarines, or as close as I could imagine.
They were metallic gray like the main craft, their hulls sleek and tapered, each anchored to the glass by wide suction cups.
The shape made me think of a silver fish, all streamlined body and pointed nose.
Each had a rounded head capped with a glass cockpit, just big enough for two.
I spotted hatches etched into the glass above every pod.
And beneath them all, dark water rushed by in a silent, endless current.
“Pair up, navigator and lookout. Tanisha, you’re lookout. Hayden, you go with her.”
Hayden finally moved, stepping away from the front to the nearest pod. His presence was quiet, but somehow all the more commanding for it. He met my eye and jerked his chin at the open hatch. “After you.”
My pulse thudded as I climbed into the pod, ducking under the hatch and dropping into the narrow seat.
Hayden followed, folding himself into the space beside me.
There was nowhere to look that didn’t include him—shoulder to shoulder, close enough to catch the faint scent of salt and metal that clung to his uniform.
He didn’t acknowledge the tight quarters, just pressed a button.
The glass dome slid closed, the world outside swallowed in murky water and the cold blue glow of unfamiliar controls.
He opened a compartment, retrieved a heavy pair of silver binoculars, and handed them to me without ceremony. “Try these.”
I took them, not trusting my grip to be entirely steady. When I brought them to my eyes, the darkness beyond somehow resolved into sharp, unsettling detail: schools of fish scattering, unidentifiable shapes drifting in the current. It felt less like a view and more like a warning.
I lowered the binoculars, unsettled. “How do they even work?”
He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the instruments in front of us. “Doesn’t matter. Just keep your eyes open. And fasten that buckle. Your seatbelt.”
It took half a minute to do as instructed, the belt’s mechanism foreign to my fingers.
Then silence pressed in, thick, close, almost claustrophobic.
Hayden sat utterly still, tension in every line of him, his focus somewhere just beyond my reach.
If he felt anything about being sealed in a metal capsule with a near-stranger, he didn’t show it.
I found myself hyper-aware of the limited space, the edges of my own breathing, and the strange certainty that whatever happened out there, in here Hayden would remain his own kind of unknown.
“There are cameras mounted at the back. Gives us a full view,” Hayden said, pointing without looking to a small screen which apparently showed the dim space behind us.
“You’re on movement watch. There’s also radar.
” He nodded toward another screen behind us: a green circle, a clock-hand circling steadily.
“Supposed to pick up anything big out there. But it’s hit or miss.
Wraith-sharks aren’t the only things swimming around, and sometimes the system glitches. Don’t lean on it too much.”
I clutched my binoculars tighter. “So we double up,” I said, trying to sound steadier than I felt.
“Exactly.”
“And for defense… the tranquilizer darts?” I asked, glancing at the narrow control panel beside me.
“Controls are on both sides,” he replied, tapping the wall by my arm. “Dart ejectors—outside the pod. If one comes our way, we try to close the gap and then go for volume. Just keep hitting green, and don’t stop until it’s gone.”
My mouth had gone dry. “You’ve actually done this before, right?”
He nodded, unflinching. “Yeah. Not something you get used to. Creepy as hell.”
I tried to laugh, but it came out thin. “You’ve actually seen a wraith-shark?”
“More than once.” His tone stayed matter-of-fact.
“And you shot at it?”
“If you hit them right, the darts knock them out. Most times they drift off. The trick is getting the shot in before they decide you’re worth the effort. They’re quick.”
I shivered. “What do they even look like?”
He finally glanced over, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Nightmare material. Trust me.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You’re just trying to mess with me now.”
He exhaled through his nose. “No. I’m not in the mood.”
A tense beat passed. “And if the darts don’t work?” I pressed.
He pointed to the red button next to me. “Missiles. Below the dart tubes. Last resort. We try to avoid a blood bath at all costs. If it gets to that point… well, let’s hope it doesn’t.”
I tried to scoff, but my voice was dry. “No pressure, then. Mind if I test the dart controls? Just once?”
He weighed that, then nodded. “Go ahead. No pods in front.”
I counted down—“Three, two, one”—and pressed the green button. The dart shot out so fast I almost missed it, slicing through the water and vanishing into the murk.
I let out a slow breath. “Guess I’ll call that a hit.”
Hayden checked the radar, calm and contained, as if it was just another morning. “Stay sharp. The ocean gets stranger the deeper you go.”
I nodded, eyes flicking between the monitors and the water pressing in on all sides, sensing he’d given me all the guidance I was going to get.
A brittle silence settled as the rest of our team clambered into their pods, the air heavy with purpose and nerves. Then Greg’s voice cut through on comms: “You’re ready to go.”
Hayden flicked a switch, and I felt a faint vibration as the suction cups released beneath us. The pod dropped, water pressing around the glass; Hayden eased the descent, then sent us gliding forward alongside the submarine.
I peered through the binoculars, catching the silhouette of a massive rock formation directly below. The main submarine angled down for it, heading toward a dark gap—a cave, wide as a hangar door. As the large vessel hovered over the opening, Greg’s voice crackled in: “Pod One, check the cave.”
One of the other pods darted ahead, vanishing into the black maw. After a tense minute, a woman’s voice reported, “Clear.”
Divers emerged from a hatch in the large sub’s belly, silver air bubbles trailing behind their packs. Unmanned machinery followed, ferrying what looked like metal slats—the grate, I realized. I didn’t envy the divers, their bodies tiny against the cave mouth.
“All pods, fan out and begin watch,” Greg ordered.
Hayden angled us away from the cave, the pod’s headlights cutting a pale path through the murk. “Eyes front,” he said, low, settling into his side of the silence. My breath sounded too loud around me as I fixed my gaze ahead, scanning for anything amiss.
Ten minutes in, Hayden eased the throttle, letting us hover in place. “I’ll cover rear view while you watch forward,” he said, never taking his eyes from his screen.
“Got it,” I murmured.
The divers below worked in slow, deliberate bursts, the frame of the grate creeping into shape.
Every so often, I caught movement—just fish, harmless shadows flitting through the blue gloom.
I forced myself to unclench, rolling my shoulders and slipping off my seatbelt, as if more comfort would help me focus.
Hayden glanced over, tone neutral. “Thirsty?” Like he was asking more for protocol than comfort.
I nodded, and he reached behind his seat, then handed me a water bottle. I drank fast, too fast, spilling a little down my front. He passed me a tissue with a dry, “Pace yourself.”
I offered a brief thanks, dabbing at my uniform, before lifting the binoculars again. But after a few more minutes of stillness, the question that was never far from my mind finally slipped out. “You moved up to bronze pretty quick. Was it just picking odd jobs, or was there a method to it?”
He hesitated, the pause long enough for the hum of the controls to become all I heard.
“I didn’t keep a list,” he said finally, not quite meeting my eyes. “Construction wasn’t for me. I just… drifted into what came up. And after a while, it got easier to choose.”
I tried not to sound desperate. “I’m asking because I need to get to bronze as fast as possible. My family’s scattered—parents in the islet’s hospital, my sister out of reach. If you have any advice, I could use it.”
He was quiet again, jaw tight as he watched the monitor. At last, he looked over, eyes guarded. “The truth is, I can’t walk you through it. Not the way you want.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
He shook his head, a flicker of something I struggled to decipher passing through his expression. “Let’s just say the path isn’t always meant to be repeated.”
That landed heavy. “So I can’t follow in your wake, even if I try?”
He looked back at his screen, voice flat. “The jobs open up different for everyone. Best you can do is pay attention and make your own calls.”