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Forty minutes later, Phoebe completed her second pass around the windows of Tethys Tier. To navigate the space, she had to scoot past clusters of colleagues, who whispered in languages from around the globe. She carried an e-tablet that glowed with a map of the surrounding reefs. She had marked fifteen possible sites—three times too many for their first window of ROV time.
I need to whittle this down to the best five or six spots.
She clutched her tablet, frustrated but knowing she would have ample time later for additional sampling. In the months ahead, she intended to widen her search grid. The first week was intended to be about acclimation, about getting accustomed to the collection methods and learning how best to utilize the station’s onboard labs. After that, her research could be expanded. She already had a booking on a survey HOV heading out next Tuesday, where she could explore sites farther afield.
As if summoned by this thought, a brilliant yellow submersible, with a huge glass sphere at its bow, glided past. Beyond the glare of its lights, which stung through her sensitive goggles, shadows could be seen moving behind the HOV’s curve of glass.
She pressed a palm to the window and watched it disappear into the darkness, a slowly fading star. An ache of desire burned through her.
A man spoke, startling her. “What do you think of all this, Dr. Reed?”
Focused fully on the view, she hadn’t noticed anyone approach. She turned, then stiffened in surprise at the presence of William Byrd, the CEO of ESKY and principal investor of the Titan Project. The fifty-year-old Aussie had made his fortune from shipbuilding—mostly container ships and freighters, but also for the Australian navy. His company continued to handle the bulk of international trade. His net worth was upward of $70 billion. Still, he currently wore a simple navy-blue jumpsuit and cap bearing the symbol of a trident, the official uniform for the station. The only sign of his wealth was a bulky gold pocket watch that hung from a chain across his chest.
She removed her goggles and struggled to find her voice. She finally waved to the seas beyond the glass, remembering her own first impression of the view. “Mister Byrd... you... were not wrong to describe these seas as a lost Garden of Eden. It’s all truly astounding.”
“Ah, so you heard my press conference last week?”
He gave her a rakish grin, making him look even more boyish. His face was deeply tanned—but not from any salon. It had the salt-scoured look of a rugged sailor, set off by thick blond hair, speckled with white from either age or the sun’s bleaching, probably both.
“I doubt anyone missed it,” she said. “Though I suspect Bezos, Branson, and Musk might’ve taken offense.”
He shrugged. “Serves them right. Why spend billions sending rockets into space when there are so many mysteries left unexplored right here on Earth. Especially under the sea, where only20percent of the ocean floor has been mapped so far. And even those maps are of poor resolution. When it comes to discerning a level of detail necessary to detect items as large as plane wrecks, it drops to a paltry 0.05 percent—leaving nearlyallthe ocean floor unexplored.”
“I hadn’t realized those numbers were so low,” Phoebe said.
Byrd nodded sadly. “It presents our greatest challenge. Humanity’s future will not be discovered on the surface of Mars, but in that 99.9 percent of the Earth’s oceans that remain a mystery. And we neglect it at our peril. The oceans are our breadbasket, our playground, even our pharmacy. More importantly, the seas are the true lungs of our planet, producing 80 percent of the world’s oxygen and consuming 25 percent of the carbon dioxide. If even a quarter of the ocean dies, so does most life on Earth.”
Phoebe nodded along with him, reminded of the overall importance of the Titan Project. It was funded by a conglomerate of non-profit groups, research grants, and corporate sponsors, but the lion’s share of the investment had come from the man standing before her. She didn’t know if this was his way of giving back after raking in billions from his thousands of cargo carriers plying the world’s oceans. Still, at least he was giving back. It was his company that had overseen and financed most of the construction of the Titan Complex, spending $10 billion to see it come to fruition in a shockingly swift timeframe.
And I get to be part of it.
Yet, even the billionaire standing before her could not hold Phoebe’s full attention. Her gaze kept slipping past his shoulders to the ring of windows. Her eyes followed the path of a Cuvier’s beaked whale as it swept across the coral beds, likely as curious about them as they were about their surroundings. Such whales were the Cetacean deep-divers, known to hold their breath for hours.
Byrd must have sensed her restless inattention, which only broadened his welcoming grin. He turned to stare at the wonderland glowing out the windows.
“If this is truly a lost Garden of Eden,” he said, “let’s hope we don’t get kicked out for seeking forbidden knowledge like Eve. We have much to learn down here. And a lot of work ahead of us.”
“It’s not work. Trust me. It’s an honor. To be here at the edge of the Coral Sea. With all the discoveries that await us, I’m anxious to get started as soon as possible.”
By now, the others on this level had all turned their way, ignoringthe view outside. William Byrd seldom intruded upon the researchers. During Phoebe’s weeks of training aboard theTitan X, she had spotted the billionaire only a few times, either across the deck of the yacht or as he was shuffled amidst an entourage throughout the science globe. At the moment, he had pared his staff down to a lone, stern-faced bodyguard, a tall Aboriginal man, who had a hand resting atop the pommel of a baton secured at his waist.
“Your enthusiasm inspires me, Dr. Reed,” Byrd said, still staring out at the breadth of the sea.
“Thank you,” Phoebe stammered, shocked that the man even knew her name.
Then again, she was one of the few Black faces aboard the Titan Complex and the only Blackwomanas far as she knew. She hoped that was not the reason for his recognition—or the fact that she stood six-foot-two and towered over most everyone.
While the Titan Project was an international effort, the majority remained white and male. There was a fair number from across Asia, along with a handful from Turkey, Pakistan, and the Middle East. Still, men outnumbered women twenty to one. But that spoke more to the lack of women in the sciences versus any prejudice.
At least, I hope so.
Byrd turned from the window to face her. “I look forward to your thoughts on the state of our reefs, Dr. Reed. I can only hope we discover a way to stop the destruction of the coral beds that gave this sea its name.”
She had suspected this was the reason she had been selected to participate in the project. Deep-sea coral seemed especially resistant to the heat-induced bleaching of surface coral, an affliction threatening the Great Barrier Reef. Such deep-growing coral also withstood pollution far better. But no one truly knew exactly why. If it could be discovered, it might offer a solution to saving the great reefs of the world.
“I’ve read your journal articles from your research at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute,” Byrd continued. “Related to the resilient ecology of Sur Ridge off the coast of California. It’s why I place such hope on your work here.”
She tried to hide her shock.He read my work.So, maybe the man’s acknowledgment had nothing to do with her skin color or her towering height after all.
