“The first deep-sea circumcision,” John mumbled.
Ferdinand ignored his friend’s attempt at humor and held his breath.
The pincer closed on the faceted point. Brentley’s voice suddenly came through the speakers, crystal clear again. “I think I’ve—”
The video image froze. Both John and Ferdinand glanced in puzzlement at each other. Frowning, Ferdinand tapped the screen. For a brief moment he thought he saw the submersible vanish then flicker back.
Abruptly, the video image resumed. “—got it!” Brentley finished. On the screen, the sub retreated from the pillar, its titanium arm held up high, a chunk of crystal in its grip.
“He did it!” Ferdinand said.
“To hell with the glitches!” John blurted out happily.
A cheer arose from the crew—but broke off as a fierce rattling began to shake through the base.
A wary hush descended. Ferdinand held his breath.
The rattling grew into a savage shaking. Doors rattled. Shelved containers tumbled.
“Sea quake!” John yelled.
Cries rose from the various science stations. The video connection to the Perseus disappeared as the monitor’s screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.
John stumbled to one of the porthole windows. “If any of the seals break—”
Ferdinand knew the threat. At a depth of six hundred meters, the pressures outside were close to half a ton per square inch. Any rupture would lead to immediate implosion.
Emergency klaxons bellowed; red warning lights flared.
Ferdinand yelled in a firm tone of command. “Retreat to Level 3! Prepare to evacuate!”
One of the marine biologists ran toward them, almost colliding with John. “The interlevel hatches have sealed themselves. I can’t override on manual.”
Ferdinand swore. In case of flooding, the safety systems automatically locked down and isolated each tier—but the manual override should have worked. He stood up on the bucking floor as the main lights flickered out. Everything became red-tinged in the glow of the emergency lights.
“Oh, God!” John said. His face was still pressed to the porthole.
Ferdinand stumbled to a neighboring port. “What is it?” It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing. The neighboring forest of lava pillars shook and vibrated as if a mighty wind were blowing through it. Distantly, bright fiery glows marked opening magma fissures. But neither sight was what had triggered John’s outburst.
In the direction of the pillar, a jagged crack split the seabed floor. As Ferdinand watched, the rift widened, and in vicious zigzags it raced toward the Neptune.
“No…”
There was no time to evacuate.
Other scientists took up positions at other portholes. A heavy silence settled. From somewhere across the way, a whispered prayer began to echo.
Ferdinand could do nothing as his lifelong dream was about to end. His fate was in the hands of God. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cold glass. How many had he killed down here? As fear and guilt clutched him, it took him a moment to realize the rumbling roar had begun to recede. The temblors underfoot calmed.
Ferdinand lifted his face.
John was staring back at him, wearing a frightened smile. “Is…is it over?”
Ferdinand glanced out the porthole. The jagged fissure had reached within a yard of Neptune’s steel legs.
The quake shook with one last fierce rumble, then died away.
“That was too close,” John said.
Ferdinand nodded.
Over the radio, a squelch of static erupted. “Neptune, this is Perseus. Is everyone okay in there?”
Ferdinand stumbled to the transmitter, relieved that Brentley had safely weathered the quake. “All clear, Perseus. Just shaken up.”
“Glad to hear it! I’ll pass the news topside.”
“Thank you, Perseus.”
Ferdinand slumped in his seat. He turned to John. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen again.”
John nodded. “Oh, yeah. I don’t have enough clean pairs of underwear.”
Ferdinand smiled weakly. He willed his heart to stop pounding. That had been too damn close.
6:22 P.M., Nan Madol, Southeast of Pohnpei Island
“Kaselehlie!” The small dark-skinned boatman greeted Karen in native Pohnpeian, smiling broadly. He was bare-chested and wore loose shorts that hung to his knobby knees. Behind him, the ruins of Nan Madol spread in a series of man-made islets toward the open sea. “Ia iromw?”
“We’re fine,” Karen answered, bowing her head slightly. “Menlau. Thank you. I called earlier today about a day rental of one of your rowboats.”
The man nodded vigorously. “The scientists. Yes, I have better than a rowboat.” He turned and led them down a short stone quay of black basalt to a pair of long canoes. “Much better. Smaller. Travel the canals better. Faster.” He motioned with a hand, sweeping it back and forth.
Karen eyed the worn fiberglass canoes dubiously. They hardly looked seaworthy enough even for the shallow canals. “I guess these will be fine.”
The boatman’s smile widened. “I have map. Two American dollars.”
Karen shook her head. “I have my own. Thank you.”
“I act as guide. Seven American dollars an hour. I show you all the sights. Tell you stories.”
“I think we can manage on our own. Besides, we have our own guide.” She nodded toward Mwahu.
The boatman looked crestfallen and waved them toward the canoes.
“Menlau,” she said, passing down the quay, leading the others.
Jack kept pace with her and mumbled, “A real capitalist, that guy.”
At the two canoes, Miyuki joined them. She studied the sun low on the horizon. “Let’s get going. We don’t have that much daylight left.”
Karen sighed. She knew her friend still fretted over Mwahu’s earlier warning. “Miyuki, you’re supposed to be a computer scientist. Since when do you believe in ghosts?”
“Looking at this place, I’m beginning to waver.” Overhead, a pair of fruit bats swept past. Distantly, the calls of birds sounded lonely and lost. “It’s so creepy here.”
Karen nudged one of the boats. “Well, you’re right about one thing. We should get going. Why don’t you and Mwahu take this one? Jack and I will take the other.”
Miyuki nodded and climbed into the canoe as Mwahu held it steady. Then the islander clambered skillfully in afterward.
“Are you sure you can lead us to the grave of your ancient teacher?” Karen asked Mwahu.