Dr. Celeste Dumont steadies herself against the rattling brass console as the Nautilissa’s hull shudders with the strain of descent. The red glow from emergency lamps paints her hands as she charts the coordinates of the abyssal trench, voice taut.
“Pressure’s rising. We’re nearing the city’s perimeter.”
Across the control room, Captain Nia Santiago clutches the wheel, sweat beading on her brow as spectral shadows drift past the forward viewport. Prof. Ada Kowalska, notebook trembling, jots feverish symbols while her reflection blurs in the glass. Mila Torres ducks in from the engine corridor, oil-smeared and wild-eyed. The sonar sings an irregular, keening note, something in the deep is moving, impossibly vast. Celeste feels the crew’s eyes on her as the lights flicker. Her next order might mean crossing a threshold that none will return from. Water creaks in the pipes overhead, a sound almost like breathing.