He looked up, offering the ghost of a smile. “First time on a mining crew?”
I nodded, suddenly conscious of the unfamiliarity of my uniform compared to the others.
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 mademe 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 instrumentsin 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. Creepyas 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?”
