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 makeyour own calls.”
I absorbed that, uneasy but not surprised. “Well, if our paths cross again, I might still tag along.”
He didn’t smile, but a faint tension flickered at his mouth. “Maybe. Just don’t expect a guide.”
We fell silent, but the pod felt more crowded than ever. A space too full of things unspoken, and too much water pressing in on all sides.
A sudden, blaring alarm shattered the quiet. Hayden and I both jerked around. The radar had turned from green to pulsing red, a thick dark shape moving in from the left.
Hayden muttered a sharp curse. “Binoculars, now.”
I shoved them into his hands. He angled them, muscles tense as wire.
He stared through the lenses for a long moment, and I watched his jaw work. “That’s no wraith-shark,” he said finally, voice a little low. “Way too big. Looks like a whale.”
I swallowed, trying to read the chaos of red on the radar. “Are whales safe?”
He kept his gaze on the creature, steering us for a better view. “Most of the time.”
We drifted forward and the pale shape slid into view: a creature bigger than anything I’d ever seen outside of an old book. Its skin shimmered faint pink under the pod lights, and its head was oddly domed, almost gentle, with a wide, placid tail moving in slow, steady sweeps. It didn’t look like a hunter. If anything, it seemed sluggish… unwell.
Hayden’s voice was quiet. “As I said, a whale.”
He didn’t take his eyes off it. I couldn’t help staring too, torn between awe and unease. The whale let out a low, mournful groan that seemed to vibrate right through the hull. For a moment, nothing else existed.
“She’s something,” Hayden said, softer than before.
I glanced over. “You think it’s a she?”
He almost smiled. “Just a guess. Most beautiful things are.”
I let out a shaky laugh, not sure if he was teasing or half-serious. “Guess I’ll allow it.”
The whale arched downward, moving slowly beneath the pod. I tracked her shape, mesmerized, until something caught my eye… a bloom of pale matter rising on the far side of her body. The water was suddenly filled with small, wavering chunks, drifting upward in the current.
I leaned in, squinting. “Hayden, do you see that? Is she… bleeding?”
Hayden’s expression hardened as he angled the pod in, eyes locked on the sight.
We hovered over the whale, just in time to catch the source: two long, bone-pale sharks latched onto her flank, their bodies flexing with each bite. Their jaws telescoped out, tearing flesh in savage, mechanical motions. Even through the glass, I could see the hard, blunted snouts, more like battering rams than faces.
“Shit,” Hayden muttered, slamming the controls into reverse.
“Wait, aren’t we supposed to get close and shoot?” My voice was too loud, edged with panic.
“Wrong angle!” he snapped, but it was already too late.
One of the sharks broke off, flashing upward. In a heartbeat, it crashed into the pod’s underside with bone-rattling force. The whole vessel bucked and spun; I flew out of my seat, smashing into the rear of the cockpit, pain sparking behind my eyes.
Before I could recover, another blow rang out—metal screaming, my back jarring against the ceiling. The pod went dark, every light snuffed out at once.
“Power’s dead,” Hayden said through gritted teeth, pounding at the controls. “Comms are fried.”
My heart hammered as I squinted into the murk, fighting for focus. The whale was sinking away, her blood turning the water to a cloudy haze. Our pod was sinking faster.
“The blood’s calling in more,” Hayden growled. “Get in your seat. NOW.”
