Meg: Origins by Steve Alten Read Free Book Online Page B

volcanic debris.
    For several minutes Shaffer’s monitor remained a field of static—then, the remote sub exited the hydrothermal ceiling and entered a placid sea.
    “We’re through. Switching to night vision.”
    The monitor changed from black to an olive-green tint, revealing dark brown billowing clouds. Schaffer worked the joystick, veering the mini-sub away from the volcanic haze, diving the craft toward the bottom.
    “Shit. Michael, pull up!”
    “Jonas, I’m clear.”
    “Just do it! There’s something big on sonar, heading for the ROV.”
    Shaffer yanked back on the joystick, sending the tethered sub retreating back toward the hydrothermal plume.
    Richard’s heart raced. “Jonas, what is it? How big?”
    “You don’t want to know.”
    Jonas powered off the Sea Cliff ’s underwater lights, allowing them to see through the occasional swath of clear water into the swirling flotsam of minerals below.
    Reverberations—like bare feet slapping on wet concrete—built to a crescendo, and then the darkness suddenly ignited into a dazzling green and blue current of phosphorescent strobe lights, the lifeforms streaking two thousand feet below the hydrothermal ceiling, racing through the trench like an offspring of St. Elmo’s Fire.
    Forty seconds passed before the silent darkness returned.
    Richard Prestis wiped beads of sweat from his temples. “That was unbelievable. Almost alien.”
    “I think I crapped an alien.” Dr. Shaffer’s heart was pounding so hard that it affected his breathing, each deep inhalation bordering on hyperventilation. Hands quivering, he popped a Valium. “Richard, I think I need you to take over.”
    “Do you need another Valium?”
    “I need air.”
    “Slow deep breaths, nice and easy. Jonas, can you adjust the blowers?”
    “Done.”
    “Mike, tell us a joke. How about the… ”
    “Shh.” Jonas stared hard at the ROV’s sonar. “Richard, keep the Squirrel steady.”
    “What’s wrong?” Both scientists looked up, their faces pale and sweaty.
    “Sonar’s picked up a straggler. Only this one’s different. It moves like a predator.”
    The three men huddled over the sonar screen as an orange blip moved lazily through the depths, cutting slow figure-eights below the ROV.
    Jonas whispered, “It knows the robot’s there.”
    “How?”
    “Steel prop. It gives off electrical discharges. Better cut the robot’s power.”
    Prestis and Shaffer exchanged eye contact, unsure.
    “Do it. The tether will hold it in place.”
    Prestis powered the ROV off.
    · · ·
    The Megalodon circled the wounded intruder, her back arched and ridged as she prepared to launch an attack from below, when suddenly the prey disappeared. Traces of its presence remained—static sparks of electricity borne of seawater and debris striking steel—but to the female, the wounded prey appeared either dead or diseased.
    The Meg ’s posture eased.
    For several minutes she continued to circle. Then, with a succession of powerful whip-like flicks of her tail, the female resumed the hunt, gradually closing the distance on the multitude of cuttlefish as they trekked north by northeast through the heated waters of the submarine canyon.
    · · ·
    Aboard the Tallman
6 miles north-northeast of Guam
    “Paul, you’d better look at this. According to Sea Bat-I , your monster has just changed course.”
    Paul Agricola pushed one of the other scientists aside to join Captain Heitman at the ROV’s sonar screen, his head and stomach in knots from the twenty foot seas. “I see several blips. Which damn blip is it?”
    “The smaller one, here. This larger mass must be a school of fish. When the fish changed course, your shark changed course. Look, it just passed below us.”
    “Bring us about before we lose them.”
    “Helm, come about quickly to course zero-one-five. Watch your bow, keep it facing the waves! Increase speed to ten knots.”
    “Aye, sir.”
    Paul tapped the plastic light table with his index