Chapter One: Lost at Sea

The best way to cool a hot head was to stick it in the icy waters of the Atlantic.

That was what the dean of the engineering school said to Malia, nearly half an hour after she finished lecturing a group of undergrads for using her equipment without permission. Rather, Malia called it lecturing; the dean referred to it as "public humiliation."

But Malia couldn't just let a bunch of pledges ruin years of her research simply because they'd never seen an oscilloscope. In fact, they didn't even know what it was, judging by the fact that they kept referring to it as something that only "boomers" would use.

Regardless of her side of the story, the dean felt that a bit of fresh air would apparently do her some good. But Malia knew the truth: she was being punished for her actions, and her sentence was to accompany a group of marine geologists to the field—a giant, blue field of water.

Malia thought it was cruel and unusual punishment, and that was before one of the grad students regurgitated their oatmeal onto her jeans. But she was determined to make it through the day in one piece, if not to get back to her own research, then to add an extra qualification to her resume.

In the meantime, she just had to stay out of trouble, and loitering on the research ship's deck was the best way to do that.

"You liking the fashion of the sea yet, kid?" a chipper voice called out from behind her.

Malia glared into the dark blue waters on the other side of the guardrail, resisting the urge to readjust the scratchy bib pants she borrowed. "What kind of marine geologist gets seasick?"

"The kind with an emphasis in 'geology.'"

A few seconds later, Malia saw the research team leader step into her peripheral vision and grab firmly onto the guardrail. As they inhaled deeply, they stood up tall, like one of those mermaid carvings on the bow of an old pirate ship. In response, Malia hunched lower over the railing, pulling her fleece jacket tighter to block out the cool, salty air.

"You smell that?" the leader asked. "You know what that smells like?"

"Fish?" Malia mumbled.

"New beginnings," they said instead. "We're going to find something big today, I know it."

Malia's frown deepened. "Like a fish?"

"Never get tired of that smell," the leader continued, then patted Malia's shoulder. "You ready, kid? We're about to release Nemo."

Malia wouldn't have cared if they were about to go diving for buried treasure. Her assignment was to perform robotic maintenance as needed, and it was definitely not needed for the brand new underwater drone worth as much as a year of grad school. But she kept that comment to herself as she softened her pinched expression and followed the team leader below decks.

Perhaps she wouldn't be so bitter if she was actually... useful. After all, the team wouldn't have needed her if the dean hadn't instructed it. Her role was an illusion—a charity case—and her presence was unnecessary.

Plus, if the team actually found something noteworthy, and Malia received credit just for being present? Undeserved recognition was more of a punishment than a reward. It was proof that she had luck instead of skill. It was proof that she had opportunities to succeed, but she did nothing to earn them. It was proof that everything in her life was by chance, and if she was faced with a real problem, she would fail.

Malia couldn't fail.

In the confines of the hull, most of the research team was crammed into a small room filled with illuminated computer monitors and dim overhead lights. The largest screen spanned the width of one of the walls, and it was this one that garnered the most attention. On it was a view of the topside deck and the remaining two members of their team—or their pants, at least. As they constantly moved the drone's camera around, the spinning view made Malia wonder if it was her turn to get seasick.

"Nemo's ready to go, Doc," a voice sounded over a nearby radio.

The leader beamed while the rest of the team jittered excitedly. "Then let's go for a swim!"

As expected, the ocean was very, very blue. There was nothing besides the vast empty sea that stretched across the monitor, save for small specks of white and the stray strand of seaweed. But as the drone steadily went lower, the blue expanse began to transform before their very eyes... into a darker blue.

Malia wanted to go back to her lab.

The drone's descent was painfully long, only held up when it spotted a sea turtle, and the research team decided to ogle at it for five minutes. Even when they reached the ocean floor, the bare, colorless sand and rocks weren't anything noteworthy. It didn't help that they couldn't see more than a few feet away from the camera, and the waters beyond that were nothing more than a void of shadows.

Still, the drone proceeded into the darkness.

The room remained mostly silent with all eyes glued to the screen before them. Occasionally, some members of the research team would exchange low murmurs, requesting the drone pilot to pause at certain objects and to discuss routes over the chart on the other side of the room. Eventually, Malia drowned out those noises in her mind, more focused on watching what the camera would find next.

Half an hour later, the darkness began to engulf them.

They had reached a drop-off. The only semblance of their surroundings was the sliver of sand that stretched across the bottom of the screen. Beyond that there was nothing, not even the deep blue.

"Amazing, isn't it?" the leader asked.

Malia jumped at the sudden question, then quickly clamped her agape mouth.

"You can't see anything," she replied.

"Sure you can." The leader's grin was as wide as it always was. "Within all that darkness? There are so many wonders waiting to be uncovered. They're just waiting for people like us to find them."

And before Malia could even fathom a response, the drone dove into the unknown.

It was like watching a horror movie, being unable to control the camera's actions as it swam through nothingness. The only indication that it was moving was from a list of numbers in the corner of the screen indicating its depth, coordinates, and heading. But that wouldn't show the other creatures of the deep.

Suddenly, a glint of silver flashed through the darkness.

"What was that?" Malia blurted out.

"Hm?" the leader asked, turning from the chart table behind them.

"Something..." Malia began, then reevaluated her words. "Something swam in front of the camera. I was just wondering what kind of fish it was."

The leader squinted at the now dark screen. "Well, with any luck, maybe we'll see more of them. We can even catch dinner after this, if you want!"

Malia didn't think she'd want seafood for a while out of pure spite, but she stiffly shrugged and turned back to the screen.

For ages, the void of black remained, and Malia found her eyes shifting between it and the changing numbers on the screen, just to assure herself that they were still moving. That was the only reason she noticed when the numbers froze.

"Why'd we stop?" she asked, suddenly keen to get her hands on the drone and solve whatever mechanical ailments plagued it. "What's wrong?"

"The connection dropped for a second," the pilot said. "Doc?"

The leader frowned at the screen. "We'll keep going. Just call out if it happens again."

The numbers continued to move.

About fifteen minutes later, the pilot swore.

"I lost control again, Doc," they said, frantically working the controls. "Nothing's working."

Malia's eyes darted across the screen; the numbers darted between digits.

"We're still moving," Malia said, not daring to shift her gaze.

"We must be caught in some kind of current," the leader said. "Keep trying."

As the pilot obeyed, Malia kept her eyes frozen on the numbers, desperately wishing them to still. That is, until they finally did, and what filled the screen was enough to make her forget about the numbers completely.

Amidst the darkness was a massive seamount, stretching boldly across the screen. It was much too far for the drone's light to reach it, but a soft glow still bathed the stone, detailing every crease and crevice that pierced the rocky surface. And after Malia eventually managed to pull her eyes away from the intricate details, she finally saw the bigger picture: an array of architecture carved into the stone, like a city at the bottom of the ocean.

And then it vanished into a sea of static.

For several seconds, no one spoke. The only noise that surrounded them was the hiss of the speckled screen and the hum of computers around them.

"Well," the team leader suddenly said, then clicked their tongue. "Looks like we lost Nemo."

The rest of the team released short chuckles; Malia's eyes were still glued to the screen of static.

"Anything?" the leader radioed topside.

"Nothing," came the reply. "Line's gone completely slack; we can't even feel the weight of the drone anymore. We're reeling it in now."

"Copy. More than likely it's gone for good." The leader let out a long sigh, but it was more lighthearted than anything. "We'll head back once you're clear."

"Wait, that's it?" Malia exclaimed. "We're just leaving?"

The leader chuckled. "Now you want to stay? I thought you've been gunning to get out of here this whole time?"

Malia forced a frown into a firm line instead. "There's something down there; we all saw it. If we leave now, what if it's not there when we get back? Or what if someone else finds it first?"

"Is it wrong for someone else to find it first? It'll be a miraculous discovery, regardless of who's responsible."

But their team wouldn't get the credit they deserved.

Malia felt her ambition build with that single spark. "What's stopping us from sending another drone down? It's not like we were anywhere near crush depth! We're already out here. We have the equipment and we have the time. Let's use them!"

"And risk throwing another thirty thousand dollars into the ocean?"

"I can fix it; I know I can. Let me see the footage again. I'll find out exactly what went wrong, and I'll alter the next one to compensate. That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

Or was she really only there as a check in the box? Was she only recognized for her qualifications—fancy words on pieces of paper they called "diplomas"—and not her actual skill?

"Face it, kid," the leader said. "We don't have the equipment, nor the funding, to try again."

At once, the ambition in Malia's heart was overcome with annoyance. "Kid?"

When the leader let out a long sigh, this one more exhausted, Malia didn't trust herself to maintain her professionalism any longer. Instead, she quickly turned around and walked forward, keeping her legs moving without knowing where she was going, and ignoring the loud rustling of her stiff bib pants.

Of course, she knew where the team kept their supplies, and she could easily do exactly what her ambition wanted. But another part of her, the part that her determined nature despised, kept her from taking that morally questionable step.

Not to mention, there was that hint of doubt that itched the back of her mind: what if she didn't actually know what she was doing?

Maybe she really did need to stick her head in the ocean.

It wasn't long before she reached the topside deck, breathless from both her journey and her pent-up rage. The last time she was outside, the cool air constantly sent a shiver over her skin; now, the chill was burned away by her anger.

No matter where she went or what she did, people never seemed to have any sense of urgency. Why was it that so many were content with just sitting on the sidelines and watching opportunities pass them by? As if that wasn't bad enough, why were they selfish enough to drag her down with them?

She immediately returned to her post at the guardrail and clenched the metal tightly, as if she could rip apart the damn ship with her own hands. Of course, it didn't budge, but simply staring into the ocean below and thinking about the secrets that it held made her want to jump over the railing and find out for herself. It was a ridiculous notion, of course; she was a terrible swimmer.

So when a low creak suddenly sounded from the ship, Malia released the railing immediately, not actually keen on falling into the ocean with little means of survival. But after ten seconds of silence, nothing happened; curious, Malia reached out to give the guardrail a gentle push...

A heavy thunk echoed just before her fingertips touched the metal, as if they had hit something in the water. Malia's mind jumped to the sound birds made when they hit her car windshield, but what was the nautical equivalent of that? Turtle strike? Dolphin strike?

Bracing her mind for a gory bloodbath, Malia peered over the guardrail.

She expected the red, and what appeared to be a tangled mess of seaweed wasn't exactly a surprise.

What she hadn't expected was a human. But upon closer inspection, that's exactly what it was, latched to the side of the ship just above the surface of the water. Their flesh was a sickly green, akin to the paint used on the interior of the ship. The "seaweed" was actually their hair, long strands of black in incomprehensible chaos. And the red came from their eyes: two scarlet almonds that bored into Malia's nightmares.

Malia felt her breath catch in her throat; the creature smiled, its teeth crooked and tinted yellow.

And before Malia could find her voice, the creature drew a scraggly arm back and thrust it deep into the hull with the sound of screeching metal.

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