Cate sank back into her chair, and turned to the small screen. Her seat on the starboard side of Prusalka meant she stared out into the abyssal deep of the dark trench. Once again indistinct stars floated in the distance, and could have been specks just hanging a few feet from her camera, or they could have been colossal beasts half a mile away in the darkness.

She discretely let her eyes slide to her crewmembers: Abby was scratching notes into a small book – a journal or diary perhaps. Her face was slick and she had her hair pulled back from a shining forehead. Behind her, Greg sat fidgeting, drumming his fingers, and trying to engage Dmitry in a conversation. The Russian waved him away or shushed him as he tried to concentrate on the small green screen, and sonar pulses bouncing back to him and relayed to his earphones. She turned to Valery Mironov, who was staring at her. He smiled and nodded, and went back to his own bank of screens, his lips pursed in contemplation.

“Coming up on Hobart Bay, people,” Jack said, turning to flash them a smile.

Cate immediately smiled back, before she could check herself. Involuntary action, she thought. It was probably just the relief at getting safely to their destination, but there was always something about his voice that instilled calm and confidence in those around him.

“Blow tanks, Yegor, nice and slow.”

The submersible slowed, and then with the hiss of compressed gasses rushing to the ballast tanks, the Prusalka began to rise.

“Coming up on the shelf,” Dmitry said. “The communication silo’s buoy should be three hundred feet directly ahead.”

As they rose the last few feet, Yegor eased the vessel ahead slowly. They broke the surface, and Cate could just make out the splash of liquid against the front glass.

“We’re up,” Greg said, rising to his feet.

“Sit down.” Jack’s voice was low, but the authoritative tone, pushed Greg straight back into his seat. “We’re going to need to locate the buoy – could be anywhere, so might take us a while.”

“It’s getting shallower,” Yegor said. “Now at twenty feet.”

“Bingo,” Jack said, pointing. “Ten o’clock; up against that ledge.”

There was a pile of rubble; the tumbled rock debris looked fresh cut, where the pipe had been drilled down into the earth. Amongst the mound of raw stone was a mess of cables that dangled down from the roof, ending in several steel canisters that looked like huge diver’s tanks.

“Communication equipment will be in one of those pods. Yegor, bring us in close to that ledge just past the pipe. We can hold our position there.” Jack spoke over his shoulder: “Cate, Greg, you’re up.”

“Yes!” Greg pumped one of his fists. Mironov also got to his feet.

Dmitry shook his head. “We should not all go.” He bobbed his head. “Until we know is okay.”