The high pitch chirp of Gregory's alarm seemed relaxing in comparison to the hydra warning. Standing to check the system kiosk that displayed key information about the base he could see that Poseidon was no longer under threat. Gregory had about thirty minutes before he had to report so he wandered close to the lab he was assigned to, making sure to not stray too far from said lab. One by one he saw other anglers, scientists and personnel enter and each time he grew a little more nervous, this could be his first time in the open water, certainly his first time at such extreme depths. Gregory thought about every ocean accident he could, from the Titanic to deep water horizon, from the byford dolphin incident to oceangate. There was no way for them to simulate the true danger of the crushing depths. Soon Gregory would know just how inhospitable the sea floor could be. Entering the lab and taking his seat he prepared for the standard introductions, but to his surprise the two most important people in the room entered with little emphasis. Doctor Gwendolyn Jones, a marine biologist and anthropologist was the head of research. Her studies were vast focusing on everything from the crabs' biological complexity to how their culture has been affected by the depths. Next came in Master Chief Joseph Burnes, the man was hollow, face rarely expressed anything but apathy. Joseph Burnes made a name for himself to the anglers in A-school, being seen more as a cautionary tale than a goal to strive towards. Joseph was known for actively discouraging sailors from becoming anglers; he had spoken out about humanity's role in the ocean. Gregory hadn't heard of Burnes until he entered A-school and by then it was too late to go back. Gregory saw this husky, this fallen man juxtaposed to a scientist who smiled constantly.
Gwendolyn Jones loved the crabs, from the moment of their discovery she made it her life's mission to understand them. Jones would know the crabs better than she knew herself by the end of her time at anchor base, of this everyone was certain. “How many of you have ever encountered a carcinean?” The veteran divers raised their hands but a handful of new arrivals stayed still. Gwendolyn Jones then commanded, “those of you with your hands down, come with me.” Gregory and the other new arrivals followed Jones deeper into the labs. The crew walked through the wide corridors and clinical areas. Gregory noticed many signs directing them, theoretical linguistics, culture, dissection and analysis, and finally at the very end of the hall, far from the group “live specimens.”
The thought of living crabs sent chills down Gregory's spine, everything he was told about their capabilities worried him about keeping them in containment. His intrigue would need to be put on hold for the time being, as the arrivals were guided into the dissection and analysis room. The smell of formaldehyde assaulted all their nostrils except Doctor Jones who appeared to take a deep breath in before speaking again. “Sapiocrustacea, intelligent crustaceans. You have come to know these magnificent beings as ‘crabs’, but as long as you are in my presence you will refer to them with their proper name, ‘carcineans.’” This demand took Gregory for surprise, he immediately thought ‘here we stand over this mutilated beast and she wants us to be politically correct?’ The notion confused him until Jones offered her explanation. “To me these creatures are not the enemy, they are no different to me than an uncontacted tribe in the Amazon” she said. For Gwendolyn Jones the concept of human superiority was inherently flawed, humans followed the same breeding cycles and natural impulses as other animals, the only real difference was the use of complex language. The carcineans had shown traits similar to that of many human cultures. They developed their own form of religious practices, music and tactile artwork. Jones was fascinated by their society and how they came to be. For centuries humans believed themselves the most intelligent species, but the carcineans could change everything when it comes to what is known about intelligent life. Gregory silently conceded to the Doctor's demands and looked closer at the body in front of him. Jones noticed this and spoke directly to him.
“Fascinating aren't they?” Jones asked Gregory. “Do you know why this one is so special?” Gregory stood stunned, but frantically looking at the crab, ‘carcinean’ he thought he tried to figure out anything he could. With time dwindling he simply said “eyes, it has eyes.” This was true but it wasn't what made this specimen unique and Jones was quick to point it out. “No, not exactly. All carcinean's have vestigial eyes, this is believed to be a trait inherited from a common genetic ancestor. Kind of how humans have tailbones. No, this one had recently molted its shell making it a Softshell carcinean.” Gregory stood still, embarrassed but interested. Jones didn't intentionally insult his intelligence, but was truly fascinated by the soft shell in front of them. “Can anybody tell me why a Softshell carcinean is interesting?” The room went silent as Jones scanned the room. She was disappointed but not surprised, most of these guys were down here for the money. Hazard pay and diver pay combined down here for a massive settlement, even for a lowly seaman. Jones sighed as she finally began to explain, “in carcinean society they no longer molt their shells by forcing themselves out, instead we have come to believe they undergo a surgical procedure to remove their shell. This greatly reduces the likelihood of molt-failure.” The sailors stood still in the room, most feigning interest but Gregory began to be fascinated, taking mental notes and wondering to himself exactly how smart these creatures are. Jones continued “after the surgery the carcinean is kept in what we believe is their hospital until their shell has regrown enough to offer proper protection from predators, the environment, and now, us.” Gregory could slowly see what the Doctor was bringing up, the image becoming more clear in his mind. Doctor Jones finally said what she intended “this carcinean isn't supposed to be a fighter, at least not yet. This tells us many things, either they are getting reckless, or this one went rogue.” Every Angler worth their salt knows that the carcineans exclusively move in packs.
It was a rare sight to see less than ten in a group, even rarer to see any that were freshly molted.. The group continued through the morgue, viewing various body parts of the carcineans until Jones stopped in front of a large vat. Gregory felt an uneasy curiosity. The vat had signage on it that depicted possible allergens and an urgency to keep at cold temperatures. Jones opened a valve on the vat and viscous dark blue, almost purple liquid began to pour out. “The carcineans are fascinating creatures, their blood even more fascinating.” Gregory began to feel uneasy, ‘why do we need their blood?’ he thought to himself. While Jones began her lesson on the carcineans immune system all Gregory could focus on was the look of the blood, its smell, how alien it was. The dark blue color was offset by a metallic hue, the scent filled the room. The once harsh smell of formaldehyde was now replaced by a deep burning sensation, like alcohol infesting his nostrils. Gregory shook himself and focused on the final parts of the doctor’s lesson. “Highly combustible and extremely useful. Not only can their blood be used as a new type of fuel source but it is incredibly useful as a sterilizing agent. Once refined it can have any number of uses in the medical or transportation field.” As Jones stood, awaiting the reaction of the sailors, one spoke up “I’ll bet it makes a decent liquor too.” Jones rolled her eyes, that was not the first time she’d heard that joke and doubted it would be her last. She led the group out of the morgue and taking her time to admire the creatures inside she held the door for the sailors, knowing most of them wouldn’t survive what was to come. Gregory however trailed behind the other sailors, examining the carcineans and slowly making his way to the doctor. “They are fascinating.” Gregory said to Jones, this hadn’t been the first time new blood had shared her interest in them, but rarely did they return from the coming excursion. She smiled and gently guided him back to the main lab.
The group returned to the lab and Master Chief Burnes greeted them. “You guys enjoy your science lesson?” He said half-heartedly. The tension in the room was palpable, each Angler knew what was about to happen and Burnes knew what he was about to send these men to do. “I'm not gonna mince words, what we're all about to do is incredibly dangerous. This is not our world down here, everything you think you know is wrong. Even if you do everything right, you still might not make it back.” The terror in his voice was compounded by the complete sadness in his eyes. The anglers entered the suiting area slowly donned their gear, first the wetsuit, then the powered endoskeleton, the external armor and finally the full diving gear. A helmet, a water-tight suit, weighted diving belt and boots. Burnes spoke up, “ok, for this first excursion we're not gonna be doing anything insane, mostly just getting you acclimated to the water, do everything I say as I say it. If you fail to do so you will die.” A feeling of anxiety flooded the room as all the anglers attached their oxygen and communication umbilical. Gregory slotted his in and could immediately feel a rush of fresh air enter his suit. Gregory made sure the connection was secure as this was simply the starter umbilical. It had a maximum length of one hundred and fifty yards but after that it was to be detached and the secondary umbilical would be slotted in its place. Gregory noticed the ratcheting pulley system it was connected to, this was so the umbilical would return to the airlock after detached. Gregory looked around one last time before taking a deep breath in, he was about to go where few had gone before.
The water began to fill the room, even beneath the heated suit and the insulation, Gregory could still feel the piercing cold of the depths. The neat thing about the hadal zone of the ocean was the complete lack of light. As the water reached the halfway mark Gregory felt like he was going to pass out from the cold, the Anglers around him shared this sentiment. Moore began to chuckle to himself before the water covered everyone in the room. The abyssal darkness, but the base became a beacon, a guiding light in the pitch darkness. “We’re all heading to Nemo’s Respite, a ridge that overlooks the outskirts of the crabs’ city” Moore said, as the airlock door opened. The difference in pressure was immediately noticeable, ‘humans were not supposed to be down here’, Gregory thought to himself as he saw the sand kick up into the air lock. As the dust settled the Anglers could see Lightpoles that would guide their path, along the poles ran a large tube. This was the vein that kept Anglers from death, the lifeline that kept them in contact with the base. The current pressed against Gregory like a strong wind, and he could see each of the Anglers trying to regain their footing. “Anglers, forward!” Burnes shouted. He was used to the pressure, but that current was always brutal. The pressure made each moment weigh on the Anglers and with one wrong step they could suffer from any manner of problems. “Follow my exact path, do not deviate.” Burnes asserted as the group exited the airlock. Gregory trudged into the sand toward the tail of the group, carefully watching everything that the ones in front were doing.
The march seemed never ending, even with the augmented suits the ocean was still a strong adversary. After nearly an hour of trudging, determined to keep going Gregory heard over the communication equipment the voice of Joseph Burnes. “We're approaching the first umbilical hub, when we get there, disconnect your umbilical and immediately attach it to an available one on the hub. Failure to do so will result in your death.” Gregory wondered how many had messed this part up, how long they had lived, and especially if anyone had fixed their mistake in time. One by one the Anglers detached their initial umbilical and watched it slither back to the airlock like a snake. When it was finally Gregory's turn he felt his heart sink. In his mind a broken record of the phrase “don't mess up.” Detaching his umbilical his heads up display began a countdown, “ten minutes of oxygen remaining, communications offline.” Gregory let go of the starter umbilical and watched as it shot away from him, returning to its home. His heart raced and his palms began to slick the inside of the suit. ‘Am I gonna be the one today?’ Gregory thought to himself as he grabbed the line from the hub. It was strange to him, just how much the hub looked like an old sea mine, each quick attachment hose sticking out like spikes of an urchin. Reaching up to the metallic bulb he grabbed his umbilical, his lifeline and slotted into his suit, pressing with extra force to make sure it was attached. “Ok, keep moving.” Burnes commanded, waiting for everyone to attach before moving on. One by one each Angler connected to the hub, until the group got to the last two. Gregory hadn't even learned his name, or known his face.
The unknown Angler detached his started umbilical and as it retraced Burnes shouted over the coms. “Rogue current, brace!” With that singular command every Angler who could hear it dropped to their knees and held onto their umbilical for dear life. The unknown Angler however? He was swept away, Gregory only caught a glimpse of him as he floated. Gregory thought to himself, ‘surely he can't be that far.’ But as the anglers stood to their feet once more Burnes said simply, “he's gone.” Gregory hadn’t seen someone die before, it turned his stomach, his eyes watered and he could taste salt in his mouth. The weight of the ocean paled in comparison to that feeling when he stood to his feet. The radio chatter became scattered and difficult to understand, all stopped when Burnes shouted, “Enough! We keep moving.” The group walked along, sluggish and sullen, before they got to the next marker Gregory looked back to barely see a fading light from the unknown Angler.
Hours passed, miraculously no other incidents and finally Nemo’s respite was in sight. Burnes breathed a sigh of relief, the realization that no one else had died. “Does anyone remember why this place is called Nemo’s respite?” Burnes asked over the comms. With the silencing Burnes couldn’t help but think that if they were on the surface they’d be hearing crickets. “The vent”, Gregory said. “What? Who said that?” Burnes asked. Gregory swallowed his anxiety and said “There’s a geothermal vent here, takes the strain off of our heating element. It’s warm.” Burnes smirked under his helmet, “yes, but why ‘Nemo’?” Two other anglers spoke up Holland Richardson, a young man from Brooklyn said “We’re at the farthest point from any human contact?” and immediately after another angler by the name of Frederick Dawson said “It’s a reference to the book twenty thousand leagues under the sea.” Without confirming either answer Burnes simply said, “Good job.” As the anglers looked into the darkness, with no real idea of what was out there Gregory began to feel an uneasy curiosity.
He thought of how far he could go, what the city looked like, and even if there were any near them at that moment. Burnes sat down near the light pole, resting, exactly what was intended after the first dive he said “Rest while you can, it only gets colder from here.” The anglers all fell to the sand, only the lights from their helmets and the pole to guide them they each began to stew in their own amazement. Though the break for them only lasted a few minutes the much needed reprieve felt like hours. The march back proved mostly uneventful, Gregory spent most of it thinking about the next time they would be in the depths. As they approached the final umbilical hub a faint light could be seen in the distance. The unknown sailor, his suit, was roughly fifty yards away from the hub. As Burnes approached the hub Dawson spoke up. “Shouldn't we retrieve the body?” Burnes stopped and looked back. “I suppose it's the right thing to do.” Burnes said, followed up by a simple question. “Any volunteers?” Burnes waited, expecting complete silence, this wasn't the first time this had happened.
“I'll go,* Gregory said before thinking. The group stood shocked, but Gregory strode closer to Burnes and repeated, “I'll do it.” Burnes was partially impressed by his bravery, but he knew that there would only be another body lost to the depths. Burnes spoke up “you're gonna need help, who suggested getting the body?” Dawson sheepishly raised his hand. “Good, you'll go with him!” Burnes said, thinking ‘with two of them they'll have a better chance of making it back, not by much though.’ Before Burnes could send them on their way another voice spoke up, “I'm coming too.” Burnes felt a cold chill, there were about to be four dead on the first excursion, a personal record. “No, two is fine.” Burnes said, with the little hope left in him that he'd save at least one life that day. “Chief! Respectfully, I want to help.” Burnes sighed, ‘maybe this sacrifice would show the others how dangerous the ocean really is.’ The callous nature of the thought was not lost on Burnes, after them, there would be more souls dragging him down in his life, at least he hadn't gotten to know them. “Fine.” Burnes said, giving up hope for the first excursion.
Few bodies had been recovered from the depths, Burnes felt as if they were amongst a mass grave. The three men hooked themselves into the umbilical hub and readied themselves to venture off the guided path. Burnes walked back to the airlock with the other men and decided to wait outside for the three.
Gregory didn’t know why he spoke up, but he did, and now he was about to get himself killed with two other unfortunate souls. The body wasn’t far from the path but the distance on the ocean floor was never the difficulty. From each movement the three could feel their suits straining. The light creaking of their helmets, it was only a matter of time. Gregory led the men down from the light post that bordered the path to the suit's light in the distance. “Not much more guys, we’re almost there.” Gregory said as confident as he could. As the three strode towards the light Dawson let what he expected to be his final words known. “I shouldn’t have said anything, guy’s better off as crab food.” Gregory stopped in his tracks, the words he had just heard were harsh and callous, he had half a mind to shout at Dawson. Instead, Richardson spoke up, “Shut the hell up! We’re here to do the right thing.” Before the volley of words could be turned into armored fists Gregory spoke back up, “Knock it off! We’re almost there.”
The men continued their march with only a few feet between them and the body. Gregory had approached first to assess the situation, there was no hull breach on the suit, everything seemed to function, until he lifted the body. The helmet caved in by a stone in the depths. Even with the augmentations of the suit the body felt like lifting a pillowcase full of anvils. While struggling Gregory spoke up “one of you, gimme a hand.” Without hesitation Richardson grabbed onto the body of the unknown sailor and hoisted him up. Getting their bearings Gregory said “Dawson, you’re on look out.”
They began their trek back, kicking up sand with each labored step until suddenly Dawson stopped. “Whats wrong?” Gregory asked, hoping it was just a small break, but he soon would feel it too. A current that moved in the darkness, an omen. Gregory dropped his side of the body, “Dawson?” He asked. In a strikingly calm tone Dawson said “Don’t move.” All three of them stood like statues, terracotta warriors who were lost long ago. With no warning a figure came out from the black brine and grabbed onto the deceased angler. Richardson had let go immediately after feeling the tension, and just as immediately started running. They couldn’t see or hear what was happening to their fallen comrade, but it didn’t matter anymore. Dawson, Gregory and Richardson moved as fast as their suits would let them back to the airlock.
The beast of them depths taunted them, swimming circles around them as they made their way closer to the airlock where Burnes was waiting patiently. Burnes could barely make out the shapes approaching, and at first was proud of them for making it back, even if they didn’t have the body. Then his communications picked up. Over his radio all he could hear was static until the Anglers were about ten yards away. “Help!” pierced through the radio speaker like a car horn in traffic, then Burnes could see it. The three sailors pursued by a shadowy blot, a lone crab. “Hurry! Get in here!” Burnes shouted as he readied his hand on the airlock control button. The three anglers ran as their enemy toyed with them. Only feet from the airlock the beast had enough of its fun and grabbed Dawson by the ankle, trying to pull him back from the door. Without thinking Gregory grabbed Dawson's suit and pulled as hard as he could. The men had to detach their umbilicals and get in or they would all be dead. Richardson Detached his and ran to the back of the airlock.
Gregory fought hard against the beast as it pulled Dawson, but he wasn’t gonna let him go. Unexpectedly Gregory felt something attached to his suit, looking around while struggling against the beast felt almost impossible, but he knew what was happening, Burnes was pulling them in. The fight had become easier and then, the tension stopped, Dawson was miraculously uninjured and Gregory could finally see what attached to his suit, it was Burnes, holding both of them to the airlock. The men got up, detached their umbilicals and entered the airlock.
As the airlock door began shutting the sense of dread faded from the four men in the room, until the creature in a last attempt to get its kill swam with great speed into the airlock. The men were startled but none could hear the screams of the one next to them as they were disconnected from their umbilicals, all except one. On the inside of the base, near the airlock was a mission control that monitored everything that happened, over their communication device they could hear Burnes, “it’s trying to get in!” The anger in his voice, tempered by the fear that pierced him deep within. All the while Gregory watched as the crab he had come to fear writhed in the airlock with him, the door closing behind it as it flayed its claws. In an instant of either bravery or suicidality Gregory rushed the creature tackling it to the floor. Gregory thought of how surprisingly easy it was to subdue the beast when it had nowhere to run.
Gregory knelt on its neck, if you could call it a neck and pinned it between his knee and the cold floor. The door finally sealed shut and the room began to drain, the cold water made the inner air feel all the colder. Gregory however, stayed in place, stiff as a statue, waiting for the crab to try and make its next move. As the water drained away so did the fight from the lone carcinean, and Gregory noticed something. Its shell, it didn’t feel hard, or even protective. The flesh of this beast felt more like thick rubber than any lobster or crab shell that he had ever felt. ‘Why would there be another softshell?’ Ran through Gregory’s mind, these things were supposed to be rare, but according to Jones this would be the second one within a month or so. Gregory’s stomach dropped, what were those things planning?
The inner door opened and without hesitations two anglers walked in and shot the crab, its blood spilled into the airlock drains and the stench of the ocean filled the room. As Gregory stood to his feet he could hear a faint alarm, and saw a warning on his display “low oxygen.” Just as fast as he stood to his feet he fell right back down, drifting into unconsciousness. As the fellow anglers worked to get his suit off and give him some air, Burnes looked at the kid and couldn’t help but feel impressed, maybe this kid had what it took to survive down here. Gregory eventually woke up in the medical area of the science wing, he felt warm and comfortable in the bed, like taking a nap on a rainy day.
He didn’t want to open his eyes, he wanted to pretend what had just happened was all a bad dream, the sailor the fear and finally the fall. Pretending though wouldn’t make his reality change, no matter how much he wanted it to. Gregory took another moment of the peace and calm that he felt and then opened his eyes. The light in the infirmary was blinding, all white walls and sterile clothes, it nearly made him pass out again. Gregory looked to his side to see a corpsman tending to him. She was short in comparison to him, but tall compared to most other women, Gregory found himself memorizing her features. Her brown hair, flowing neat and straight behind her. Gregory looked at her skin, a pale white, lightly worn, but beautiful. He looked at her nose and her mouth trying to see if he could tell where she was from, but nowhere came to mind. Finally as she realized he was awake he looked into her eyes, cold and piercing, but full of resolve to her job to the best of her abilities. He found comfort in her features, comfort that would not last as she yelled for the doctor. “Doc! He’s awake!” the corpsman shouted in what seemed like an almost unnaturally high tone, piercing into Gregory more than the gaze when the two made eye contact.
Gregory groaned as he sat up and the corpsman asked “are you ok? Do you need anything?” Gregory simply oriented himself as he shook his head. The corpsman left the room while Gregory sat there waiting for the doctor, he scanned his environment and could see the silhouettes of people behind curtains in the room, hearing faint conversations and descriptions of ailments. The television in his room miraculously played shows from the surface, and Gregory thought to himself, ‘wow, they really did spare no expense.’ In a half joking manner.
Before he could make himself laugh the doctor entered the room and introduced himself. An average sized man with thin hair, so thin one could be forgiven thinking the man was bald, behind him entered the corpsman from earlier. “Hello, Moore is it?” exited the doctor's mouth, deep and commanding. Gregory cleared his throat and responded, “Yes, sir.” The doctor sat beside the bed and introduced himself and the corpsman. “My name is Lieutenant Vider. I'm the doctor assigned to the science wing of Anchor base, the woman next to me is Corpsman Nancy Klein. Do you know why you’re here?” Gregory looked at the two of them before answering, “because I got into a fight with a sea monster?” The doctor chuckled and responded in kind. “Partially, you came into contact with a crab, we just have some questions for you.” Gregory nodded in understanding, though truthfully he wondered why they would put so much effort into someone who simply got lucky in a fight.
The doctor began his questioning, breaking Gregory’s train of thought. The doctor asked “First, do you remember why you passed out?” Gregory thought for a moment thinking back to his encounter, it all happened so fast and his memory felt hazy. “I-I ran out of oxygen, I think.” Gregory said. The doctor began writing on his paper and slowly moved on through each question. Asking if Gregory had ingested any of the blood or noticed any parasites coming off the crab. The total time they took felt endless, and Gregory just wanted to know what happened to the thing. Finally the doctor began his final line of questioning. “Do you feel stiff at all? Any nausea or unexplainable aches?”Gregory thought for a moment and he felt no real difference between himself that morning and at that moment. “No, nothing unusual.” Gregory answered. The doctor stood up and Gregory readjusted himself. “So, am I free to go doc?” Gregory asked in a jovial manner. The doctor looked down at his patient and hesitantly said, “not quite, we need to keep you in this quarantined area for observation.” It was at that moment Gregory noticed he could hear coughing and wheezing coming from the adjacent rooms.
The doctor left the room and for a moment Gregory was angry. He just wanted to go back to his room and rest, but this spot would be just as good as any other bed in this place. Like magic the second Gregory’s head hit the pillow he could hear a familiar voice behind the curtain. Like a loud whisper the voice said “Moore! That's your name right?” Gregory lifted himself back up again and responded, “Yeah, who are you?” Before he could get a response a hand opened the curtain to reveal another patient his light brown skin and thin frame looked familiar to Gregory, but he couldn’t figure out where from. “It’s me, Dawson.” Suddenly Gregory realized why they were both in the same room. “Dawson? What's going on? How long have we been here?” Gregory’s mind raced, in the suits everyone looks the same, it's easy to forget that there's a person in here. Dawson responded “We fought a crab, they want to make sure we don’t have Mariana flu. We’ve been here for about a day.”
Gregory immediately thought to himself ‘I fought the crab.’ However he stopped himself from saying it outloud. The next thing he asked was “what the hell is Mariana flu?” Dawson chuckled to himself, “you haven’t heard the rumors? Mariana flu is something you can catch from the crabs.” Gregory thought to himself how ridiculous the idea was, that they would have told them about such risks when joining. “Ok, so why isn’t it common knowledge?” Gregory asked. “It’s supposed to be hush hush,if it got out through word of mouth it would cause a panic.” Dawson retorted. It made sense to Gregory however he still felt frustrated and angry that when everything was said and done they still almost died. A long silence fell over the room and Gregory looked back at Dawson. “Nice to finally actually meet you.” Gregory said. Easing the tension. The two exchanged a look of mutual recognition as the silence fell over them again, broken moments later when Gregory asked “What now?” Dawson didn’t respond.