Chapter 217
The ocean stretches before us, endless and dark, the faint glimmer of moonlight reflecting off the surface in shifting ribbons of silver. The waves roll in a slow, rhythmic pulse, steady and unfaltering, as if oblivious to the storm of tension building on the deck of the Nereid.
A salty breeze cuts through the humid night air, carrying with it the distant, briny scent of the shore. From where we hover just beyond radar detection, Enigma’s South Pacific island is barely visible in the distance, a dark silhouette against the horizon.
It looks deceptively peaceful from here, a cluster of jagged cliffs and dense jungle rising above the waterline, but we all know better. This place is dangerous, a stronghold of secrets and experimentation, and we’re about to step right into the belly of the beast.
I grip the railing of the Nereid, scanning the island through a pair of binoculars. A few scattered lights blink within the foliage, barely visible, and a faint plume of smoke curls into the air from somewhere inland.
It’s quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that prickles at the edges of instinct, warning of unseen dangers lurking just beyond sight. The jungle is a tangle of shadows and secrets, and the cliffs rise like the jagged teeth of some great slumbering beast, waiting for trespassers to step unwittingly into its maw.
Wake stands beside me, his body tense, his keen gaze locked onto the shoreline. The moon casts sharp angles across his face, highlighting the furrow in his brow, the careful control in his stance.
“They’ve gone to great lengths to stay hidden,” he mutters, his voice barely more than a breath against the night air.
“Which means there’s something worth hiding,” Cora says, stepping up beside us. The glow of the map on her wrist console casts a faint blue light against her skin. “We need to figure out exactly what that is before we make any moves.”
Tai joins us, wiping his hands on an oil-stained rag. “Then let’s get The Flounder up and running. No use coming all this way if we can’t do a little underwater reconnaissance first.”
I nod, stepping away from the railing, though my gaze lingers on the island for a moment longer. The air is thick with the weight of what’s to come. There’s no room for mistakes.
The lower deck of the Nereid is alive with movement, the scent of oil and seawater mingling in the confined space. The crew moves in practiced efficiency, hands steady despite the undercurrent of urgency pressing against them.
The submersible, The Flounder, took a hell of a beating during our skirmishes with the Elder Kin, and it shows—its reinforced plating is scarred with deep gashes, and one of the external thrusters had to be completely replaced. The damage tells a story of battles barely survived, of the relentless dangers we’ve faced to get this far.
Tai’s team has been working around the clock to fix it, their faces drawn with exhaustion but their hands steady with purpose. Wake and I join them, rolling up our sleeves and getting to work. Wake handles the heavy lifting, securing the last of the plating into place with the strength and precision of someone who’s spent years putting things back together.
I wedge myself into the cockpit, reconnecting the tangled mess of wires running beneath the console, carefully matching each one to its designated circuit. The cockpit is cramped, the air thick with the faint metallic tang of exposed wires and freshly soldered connections.
“It should hold now,” Wake says after fastening the last bolts. He steps back, examining the sub with a critical eye. The dim overhead lights cast shadows across his face, deepening the furrow in his brow. “But if we take another hit like last time, I’m not sure it’ll survive.”
Tai runs a hand through his damp hair, letting out a heavy sigh. “Then we make sure we don’t take another hit.”
I finish reconnecting the last wire, double-checking that the system boots up properly. The screen flickers to life, casting a soft blue glow across the cockpit, and I let out a relieved breath. “Everything’s operational on my end.”
Tai claps his hands together, the sharp sound cutting through the murmur of work still being done. “Good. That means we’re ready to move on to the next step.”
The team gathers around the main table in the ship’s briefing room. The walls hum with the low thrum of the engines, a steady, reassuring vibration beneath our feet. A large, digital map of the island flickers on the screen, highlighting key terrain features and potential points of interest. The jungle sprawls across most of the landmass, dense and tangled, and the cliffs form an almost impenetrable barrier along the eastern side.
Cora taps at the screen, zooming in on the western side of the island. “We’ll approach from here, just beyond the cliffs. There’s a hidden inlet we can use to get close without being spotted.”
Wake nods, arms crossed over his chest. “And once we’re in position?”
Tai leans forward, pointing at several marked locations. “We split into two teams. One team takes The Flounder to scout the underwater perimeter—check for any submerged facilities, defenses, or hidden docking stations. The other team infiltrates on foot, gets eyes on Enigma’s operations, and gathers intel.”
“I’ll go with The Flounder team,” Andreas says, his voice steady, decisive. “If they’ve got anything hidden beneath the waves, I want to see it firsthand.”
Wake crosses his arms. “Phoebe and I will go with the infiltration team since we know the facility.”
“We’re going,” Silo and Arista say in unison, their expressions unreadable but their intent clear.
Tai grins, shaking his head. “Figures. You two aren’t exactly the ‘sit back and watch’ types.”
I nod in agreement, my focus locked onto the map. The air in the room is taut, electric with the weight of what we’re about to do. Every person here understands the risk, the razor’s edge we’re balancing on. One wrong move could mean the end of the line for any of us.
“Once we gather enough intel, we regroup and decide our next move.”
“Understood.” Wake’s voice is firm, resolute. “We move at dusk.”
A heavy silence settles over the room, thick with unspoken thoughts. This is it. No more detours, no more delays. The moment we set foot on that island, there’s no turning back.
I glance at Wake, at Cora, at Tai and the rest of the crew. These people are counting on me, but not nearly as much as I count on them. There’s an unspoken trust binding us, a quiet understanding that one wrong move could mean the end of the line for any one of us.
Outside, the ocean stretches endless and dark, a mirror of the unknown waiting ahead. The moon is slipping lower in the sky, casting longer shadows across the deck. The time for planning is over.
“We’re ready,” I say.
No turning back now.
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