After a few moments his boots touched down beside the trench. He hopped across the bottom, following its southern edge. His helmet’s A/R was a more sophisticated version of the dashcam system in his car, but not much. Basically, it served the same purpose, overlaying his video input with arrows, colored lines and data readouts. It would guide him to the juncture he wanted to inspect and sound an alert once he reached it.

Zak was about ten yards along when he heard the beep. He hadn’t really needed it. The Stalwart had installed a multiplexer here two weeks back, ahead of laying several branching lines of cable, the first of which was already buried in its own trench. He could see where it forked eastward from the splice, stringing out to its own endpoint.

He looked down at the shallow furrow defining the original cable’s path toward shore.

“Odd,” he said over his radio. “Everyone getting the vidstream?”

“Roger.” That came from Murph. “Hang on a second. I’m going over your coordinates.”

“You must be in the right place,” Rawl said. “You see the cable sticking up out of the bottom.”

Zak did not reply. His dive partner was right on both counts. This was the only cable nexus for miles around. And the Positioning System for Deep Ocean Navigation—POSYDON—was as dependable as terrestrial GPS. There was no doubt in his mind he was on point. But what confused him was that he didn’t see anything all. At least, nothing unusual.

He waited. Maybe there was a mistake. But he didn’t see how it was possible.

“Zak?” Murph again.

“I hear you.”

“Your location positively checks out.”

Which came as no surprise. And which also confused the hell out of him.

“I can scoop out the sediment,” he said. “Inspect the cables and SDM to see if anything’s funny.”

“Sounds like an idea,” Murph said. “Give me a minute. Fried’s on his way to Control.”

Fried was Bill Friedlander, the dive team’s project manager on the Stalwart. Calling him in was SOP. Everything had to be logged and subject to approvals. They would need his green light before digging up a segment of line.

Zak waited. Blue ghosts spun and danced around him like fireflies. No one really knew why so many organisms down here emitted a glow. He’d heard they used it to confuse their prey. Or stun them. But he’d also heard that some of them used it defensively, sneezing out light trails to send stalkers off in the wrong direction. Whatever their purpose, they put on a stunning show. It was like they were all scribbling on a huge three-dimensional blackboard at the same time. With phosphorescent chalk.