Deep Fathom (32 page)

Jack shrugged. “On large rafts. Bamboo is great building material, and there's plenty of it on the island.” He nodded to the rain forest out the windows.

Karen shook her head. “Back in 1995, researchers tried to float a one-ton basalt log using every sort of raft imaginable. They failed. The best they could manage was a stone that weighed a couple hundred pounds. So how did these unsophisticated natives move rocks weighing
fifty tons
? And once at the site, how did they lift and stack them forty feet in the air?”

Jack's brow crinkled. As much as he hated to admit it, the mystery was intriguing. How
had
it been done?

Karen continued, “I have no idea what the real answer is, but I find the myth of the demigods interesting. Another story of a magical people from a lost continent.”

Jack settled back in his seat. “So how old are these ruins?”

“Hmm…that's another bit of controversy. Nine hundred years is the current estimate, based on carbon dating on fire pits done by the Smithsonian Institute in the sixties. But others have argued for an older date.”

“Why?”

“Carbon-dating of the fire pits only proves that it was
occupied
during this time, not that the place was built then. In the early seventies an archaeologist from Honolulu, using newer techniques, came up with a date over two thousand years old.” Karen shrugged. “So who can say for sure?”

From the backseat Miyuki shifted forward and pointed between them. “Look.”

Karen slowed the Cherokee as raw sunlight appeared ahead. It was the end of the forest road.

“Finally,” Jack murmured.

The view opened before them as they swung out of the forest. A wide bay lay ahead, sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. In the middle of the bay towered a steep mountainous island, fringed by swamps. From the height of the jungle road, a coral reef could be seen in the shallows circling the small island, mottling the blue waters in hues of rose and jade.

Karen pointed. “Nan Madol is on the far side of Temwen Island. Facing the open ocean.”

Turning, she guided the Jeep down the steep grade toward a long, two-lane steel bridge that spanned the strait between coast and island. They descended into shadows as the sun, setting toward the western horizon, disappeared behind the mountainous peaks of Pohnpei. Then they were trundling across the bridge, passing over coral atolls and deep blue waters.

Karen played tour guide. “The harbors around here are fraught with submerged sections of other ruins: columns, walls, stone roads, even a small sunken castle. Back during
World War Two, Japanese divers reported discovering caskets made of pure platinum down there.”

“Platinum? Here?”

“Yep. The divers brought up quite a bit of it. Platinum became one of the island's major exports during the Japanese occupation.”

Jack eyed the water. “Strange.”

“In fact, just recently a large megalithic discovery was made in the deep waters off the east coast of Nahkapw Island.” She pointed to a speck of an island just visible near the southern horizon. “A submerged stone village named Kahnihnw Namkhet. For decades natives told stories about it, but it was only in the last five years that divers rediscovered it.”

With a kidney-jarring bump the Jeep left the bridge and turned onto the coastal road that circled the small island. Karen accelerated. Soon they wound out of the shadows and into the sunlight of the southern coastline.

Ahead and below, the ruins of Nan Madol appeared.

Jack lowered his map, stunned by the sight. Spreading far out into the shallow sea from the coastline were a hundred man-made islets. The buildings and fortifications were all composed of basalt columns and slabs, constructed similar to American-style log cabins. Framing the entire site was a gigantic sea wall, also of basalt.

“Amazing,” he said. “I can see now why the place is called the Venice of the Pacific.” The ancient city spread over ten square miles, with canals intersecting and connecting the entire community. Mangrove trees and ferns grew thickly throughout it. Looking down, the stones of the city sparked in the sunlight, reflecting off the quartz crystals in the basalt.

“It's been compared to the building of the Great Wall of China,” Karen said. “They built the entire city atop the coral reef, carving deeper channels and canals out of the reef itself. There's also an extensive tunnel system connecting the various islets. It was lucky the eclipse-day quakes weren't too bad out here. It would've been a great tragedy to lose this historic site.”

Jack stared, struck by its breadth and size. “It's so large.”

Karen nodded and guided their vehicle down the last few switchbacks toward the city's edge. “That's another mystery. Why
is
it so big? To support such a city would require a populace ten times larger than currently living on the island and a land area thirty times as big.”

“Further evidence of your lost continent?”

“Perhaps.” She turned into a parking lot before the entrance to the ruins, parked under the shade of a large mangrove tree and switched off the engine. Then she turned her attention to Mwahu, in the backseat. “You said before this place was sacred to your people. Before we go further, I want to know why.”

Mwahu stared out the open window, silent for a long time, then spoke slowly, as if it pained him. “It is the last home of our ancient teacher, Horon-ko. He came here to die.”

“When was this? How long ago?”

Mwahu turned to face Karen and Jack. “Long, long ago.”

“But why did he come
here
?” Karen asked.

“Because his own home was gone.”

“His own home?”

Mwahu again seemed reluctant to answer. His voice became a whisper. “He came from Katua Peidi.”

Karen gasped at his answer.

“What?” Jack said to her, puzzled.

“According to myth,” she explained, “Katua Peidi was the name of the original homeland of the magical brothers who had helped build Nan Madol.”

Jack frowned. “He thinks his teacher was one of these Katuans?”

“So it would seem.” She turned her attention back to the rear seat. “What did Horon-ko teach your ancestors?”

“He teach many things. Mostly he teach us to guard the old places. He tell us where they are. Word pass from father to son. Forbidden to speak. He say none must open the heart of old places.” He stared hard at Karen.

She ignored his accusing eyes and sat pondering. “A secret
sect assigned to guard the Pacific's countless megalithic ruins…by the last survivor of some lost continent.” She swung one more time on Mwahu. “You say Horon-ko died here.”

He nodded.

“Is he buried here?”

He nodded again and turned toward the watery ruins of Nan Madol. “I will take you. But we must leave before night.”

“Why?” Jack asked.

Karen answered instead. “A superstition about the ruins. If someone stays among the ruins overnight, it is said he will die.”

“Great,” Miyuki mumbled from the backseat, eyeing the low sun.

“It's only myth,” Karen said.

All their eyes swung to Mwahu. The man slowly shook his head.

Ferdinand Cortez rode as passenger aboard the researchers' two-man submersible, the
Argus
. The pilot, seated ahead in his own acrylic dome, signaled a thumbs-up as he guided the vessel under the sea base and up into the entry dock on the station's underside. The docking hatch sealed under them and the seawater was pumped out.

Ferdinand watched the waterline recede down his dome. The whole docking procedure took less than five minutes. He smiled at his success. After his wife died, he'd devoted all his energies to the Neptune project. It had been a goal he and his wife had shared.

A functioning deep-sea research station.

“We did it, Maria,” he whispered to the station. “We finally did it.”

As the central computer calibrated the air pressure in the docking bay, a green light flashed on the wall, indicating it
was safe to depart the
Argus
. Ferdinand unscrewed the dome's seal using a motorized winch. The seal broke with the barest hiss of pressure differentials. Ferdinand smiled. Perfect.

He pushed back the dome and climbed out of the sub, hauling his bag with him. The pilot remained in his forward dome. He had another four research members to ferry down to the deep-sea station.

Free of the sub, Ferdinand breathed deeply. The air tasted stale, but that couldn't be helped. No amount of conditioning would freshen it.

Waving a thanks to the pilot, he crossed to the door and unscrewed its three latches. Beyond the door, he found John Conrad wearing a wide shit-eating grin.

“We're here,” his friend and colleague said. “We're on the goddamn bottom of the ocean.”

Ferdinand smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Then how about a tour?” he asked—not that he needed one. The Neptune had been based on his own design specs. He knew every inch of the base, every circuit, every switch.

John took his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “C'mon. Everyone's waiting.” He led the way to the ladder up to the second tier of the station. As John climbed, electronic sensors marked his presence and opened the hatch overhead. It was all automated. Once both men clambered up to Level 2, the hatch self-sealed. Another safety feature. Each of the tiers were sealed from one another unless a crew member was on the ladder. The hatches could also be cranked shut and locked in case of power failure or a system malfunction.

Stepping from the ladder, Ferdinand surveyed his domain. Level 2 contained a circular series of labs: marine biology, geology, climatology, physiology, even archaeology. The base's tiny hospital ward also shared a wedge of this floor's space. The tier above this, Level 3, housed the living quarters, galley, tiny recreation room, and unisex bathroom.

Ferdinand could not wipe the smile from his face. The Neptune was finally up and functioning. As he passed
through the labs, other scientists called to him, congratulating him. He acknowledged the well-wishes and continued to his own wedge: the geophysics laboratory.

John accompanied him. “Can't stop working, can you?”

“How can I? Especially with that pissant Spangler gone. He's been hobbling my work ever since we first arrived here. This may be my only chance to be free of the asshole, and I'm going to take advantage of it.”

Ferdinand settled onto a fixed stool before a smooth metal console. He hit a button, and like a rolltop desk, the airtight seals on his station wheeled open to reveal a bank of computers, monitors, and tools. “Is the
Perseus
over by the crystal pillar?” he asked.

“Yep. Lieutenant Brentley has been waiting for an hour, and he's growing a bit impatient. We had to argue against him collecting your sample on his own.”

“Good, good…I should oversee the sampling. We can't risk damage to the pillar.”

“Brentley's audio is on Channel 4. Video feed on Channel 3.”

Ferdinand called up the proper channels on his central monitor. “
Perseus
, this is Neptune. Do you read?”

Lieutenant Brentley answered. “Aye, Neptune, read you loud and clear. Just cooling my thrusters.”

Ferdinand adjusted the monitor to pick up the video feed from the Deep Submergence Unit's sub. He was surprised at the clarity of the image. The sub faced the crystal pillar from a distance of ten yards away. Its faceted surface filled the screen. Across its smooth planes the silver etchings were plainly evident. “Have you recorded the entire pillar?”

“Aye, completed and recorded. Just waiting to collect the sample.”

Ferdinand heard the exasperation in the man's voice. “I appreciate your patience, Lieutenant. We're ready to proceed. Try to collect a sample without marring any of the writing.”

“Aye, sir. I've studied the pillar. There's no writing near the top. Should I attempt a sampling there?”

“Yes. Very good.”

On the screen, Ferdinand watched the
Perseus
circle the forty-meter length of crystal, climbing toward its apex. Once there, the image focused on the faceted top of the obelisk. “I'll try to nip a bit off the very tip.” The pilot's voice crackled with static as the vessel edged toward the pillar.

“Be careful.”

As they watched, the video feed began to flicker with static, too. The sub floated toward the pillar, slower and slower. It was almost as if the video feed were playing in slow motion. As the sub neared its goal, a titanium arm reached cautiously outward.

“Careful,” Ferdinand warned. “We don't know how fragile that thing is.”

A few jumbled words answered, frosted with static: “…odd…trembling…can't hear…”

John touched Ferdinand's shoulder. “The crystal's emissions must be messing with the sub's communications. Remember the reports from the salvage ship's sub.”

Ferdinand nodded, worrying that perhaps he should've waited until Spangler had returned. If the Navy's sub were damaged…

The titanium claw reached for the pillar, intending to pinch the tip off the crystal. It was agonizingly slow.

“The first deep-sea circumcision,” John mumbled.

Ferdinand ignored his friend's attempt at humor and held his breath.

The pincer closed on the faceted point. Brentley's voice suddenly came through the speakers, crystal clear again. “I think I've—”

The video image froze. Both John and Ferdinand glanced in puzzlement at each other. Frowning, Ferdinand tapped the screen. For a brief moment he thought he saw the submersible vanish then flicker back.

Abruptly, the video image resumed. “—got it!” Brentley finished. On the screen, the sub retreated from the pillar, its titanium arm held up high, a chunk of crystal in its grip.