Excerpt: Utopia

Prologue
1200 B.C.
The sea swelled with unbridled fury, remorselessly battering and tossing the small wooden boat. Dubaku looked to the sky where ‘Nanaunir, the storm god was stirring his cauldron. Hevioss, the thunder god roared in response to his call, and Khebieso, the god of lightening hurled down his bolts of fire from the heavens. The four men at the oars strained against the waves with all their might, trying to keep the small craft from capsizing and being swallowed by the waves. Dubaku, sat between them, clutching a heavy chest in his arms as if his life depended on it.
Black as darkest night, the chest carved by the hand of the god, was of adamas, its surface awash with magical spells of containment, and warnings of great danger. The sight of it was both beautiful and horrifying to the men in the boat, but what frightened them most was the ruddy glow that came from within it, illuminating the junction where the lid met the body of the chest as if something from within was trying to burn its way free.
“Dubaku,” a rower called Thabo pleaded, his dark eyes wide with terror. “We must turn back.”
Dubaku merely shook his head. He was the eleventh son of an eleventh son, and thus a shaman of considerable power – his word was to be obeyed. “We can not turn back.”
The wind howled across the face of the water, causing it to foam like the muzzle of an angry jackal and Thabo’s dark eyes grew wide with fear.
“But we will be swallowed down!” Thabo said.
“We will not,” Dubaku answered with conviction, reaching up to clasp his pendant. “We have the protection of the great god Olorun.”
“Dubaku speaks the truth,” Sefu, another of the rowers agreed. “We do the bidding of our god. He will protect us.” His two companions nodded in agreement.
The boat yawed as it was buffeted by an enormous wave, and Dubaku clung tighter to the box. He had never known the sea to possess such anger – perhaps Beher the sea god did not wish to become the keeper of the chest. Or maybe the great god Olorun was testing him, but he would not fail. Olorun the creator had bade them rid the world of the evil spirit contained within the box, and that was what they would do.
The glowing edges of the chest had become painful to behold, and Dubaku knew they must hurry. The chest had been created by powerful magic, but only submersion beneath the cool waves of the ocean deep would assure that the evil within could not escape. Abonsam had brought terror to their village with its hateful ways. It was a spirit that contained much anger and cunning, and the judgement of the great god Olorun was that it was to be cast into the sea for its evil deeds, eternally trapped beneath the waves in Olorun’s magic box. Not all in his village had been pleased by this judgement, for to some Abonsam dispensed unasked gifts such as second sight, and strength beyond reason – but these gifts always came with a price.
“Just a little further, Thabo, and then we can return,” he promised.
Thabo and the others rowed with renewed determination through the roiling waters, and Dubaku’s gaze went to his pendant. A soft glow was becoming visible around the edges of the ornament. Just a little bit further – just a few strokes more, and they could carry out the bidding of their god.
As Dubaku clutched tightly to the box to his chest with both arms, he could feel something within it banging against the sides as if it were trying to get out – as if the evil within knew that time for it to escape was growing short.
A wave washed over the side of the boat, nearly capsizing them, and Dubaku wondered if the storm was not a test for him by his god, but instead an effort of the evil within the box to escape its fate. Abonsam had brought sickness to their village – a sickness of the mind that had caused people to act as animals without thought or reason. He clutched tighter to the box. It could not be allowed to escape.
The glow of the pendant about his neck had brightened until it blazed like a sun.
“Stop!” he commanded, and the men stilled their oars.
Still clutching the box tightly Dubaku stood, and at his nod, the men with him started rhythmically tapping the handles of the oars upon the side of the boat.
From his robes, Dubaku pulled a strangely shaped key on a leather cord. The key was drawn to the chest in his arms as a bee is drawn to a flower, or drowning man to air. It pulled at strap in his hand, trying to reach the lock upon the chest for which it had been made. With difficulty, Dubaku pulled the two apart, and dangled the key over the side of the boat by its cord.
“Beher, great god of the sea to you, Olorun commits this key for safe keeping – guard it well.” No sooner than the words were spoken, a large silver fish leapt from the waves and pulled the key from his grip, then both vanished beneath the water.
The tapping of the oars grew louder and changed in cadence, and the men with him began to chant a wordless song in low voices.
Dubaku raised his face to the sky, and the rain beat down upon his cheeks with stinging force. “By word and deed of the great creator Olorun, I condemn this evil to the sea!”
A wave washed over him, nearly knocking him from the boat, but the hands of the oarsmen quickly steadied him. They must finish the ritual! He raised his face again to the stinging rain, and once again the cadence and chanting resumed.
“By word and deed of the great creator Olorun, I condemn this evil to the sea!” he shouted again, and this time, a howling wind swooped down from above, grabbing at him, trying to pluck him from the boat and carry both he and the chest back to land.
Loyal Sefu acted quickly. He released his oar grabbed a hold of Dubaku’s robes, clutching them tightly with one hand, and the seat upon which he sat with the other.
Though Dubaku felt his feet leave the deck of the boat, Sefu held fast to him, and he was not carried away.
“By word and deed of the great creator Olorun, I condem this evil to the sea!” he shouted for the third and final time, then with all of his strength, Dubaku pitched the accursed chest into the roiling waters as far away from the boat as he could manage. A great watery hand reared up from the waves and crashed down upon the chest, dragging it into the depths.
Dubaku collapsed onto the seat beside Sefu as the wind released him, and the fury of the storm immediately started to ebb, and die.
Sefu sighed with relief. “Is it finished?”
Dubaku sadly shook his head. “Because of what we have done today, this stretch of sea will always be cursed. Accidents will plague those who sail here, and fishermen must never put out their nets in these waters again – for if Abonsam can find a way, it will rise again to plague the earth.”
The men with him lowered their oars into the water and rowed as quickly as they could for the safety of the shore.

Chapter 1
An endless sea of blue-green glided past beneath the skids of the helicopter as they left the coast of Somalia quickly behind them. Cassandra leaned back and forced herself to take a deep breath. Ever since the accident she had been terrified of the water. Leave it to the brilliant minds at the museum to send someone with hydrophobia out into the middle of the ocean, though she had a dark suspicion that her father might have had something to do with it – in his opinion it was far past time she got over what had happened. To his mind, her “irrational” fear was a stumbling block in her career that needed to be kicked aside. Apparently it was sink or swim time – literally in this case. She shuddered.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded politely to the young couple seated across from her. From their demeanor, she had come to the inevitable conclusion that they were honeymooners – the dreamy look in the girl’s eyes, and the way she clung possessively to her husband’s hand was a dead giveaway. He extended his hand.
“I’m Scott Bramson, and this is my wife Lori.”
She shook his offered hand. “C.J.”
He smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll be landing soon.”
She merely nodded, allowing him to believe her unease was due to a fear of flight. Some would call her paranoid, but she never volunteered her weakness to anyone if she could help it – you simply never knew when it would come back to bite you in the ass.
“On your honeymoon?” she asked.
Scott grinned down at his wife.
“Are we that obvious?” Lori asked.
Cassandra smiled in return. “You have the look.”
She supposed it would have been rude to point out what she was really thinking – that anyone who looked that happy hadn’t been together long enough find fault with one another yet. Once the glow of new love wore thin, disillusionment usually started peeking through – of course she was more than slightly prejudiced on the subject of love just now, and probably would be for quite some time to come. That’s what happened when you got her heart stomped on.
“We’ve been waiting over a year for this trip,” he told her. “Idrus is a hard place to get into, but from everything we’ve heard, it’s worth the wait.”
Again she nodded politely. Most people probably felt that way about coming to the so called “Pearl of the Sea,” but she hadn’t come to Idrus for a frolic in the ocean, she had come to work for the colony’s creator.
From all reports, Daniel Alcott was brilliant. Idrus had started out as a science project, and he had built it into a self sufficient, thriving, eco-friendly city at sea.
“Are you meeting someone?” Lori asked.
She flinched, but kept her smile firmly in place. “This is more of a working trip for me.”
“Oh? What do you do?” Scott asked.
“I’m an archeologist,” Cassandra said. “Mr. Alcott called me in to catalogue some relics that were uncovered by members of the colony.”
Lori’s eyes lit up. “How exciting. We were hoping we’d get a chance to meet him ourselves, but he hardly ever visits the tourist areas. He’s a wonderful man. Scott and I admire him so much for his ideals.”
Scott nodded. “He’s done a lot for the cause.”
By the cause, she presumed they meant the preservation of the environment, of which Daniel Alcott was an outspoken supporter. Idrus was the ultimate in eco-friendly living, and Alcott had plans to build a series of the sea colonies that once completed would change the face of global economies all over the world. His plans had not made him popular with certain groups, such as those in the oil business among others.
“Mr. Alcott has promised to show me around his creation personally during my stay. If I see you while we’re out, I’ll try to steer him your way,” she said with a wink. Even jaded as she was, she couldn’t resist the glow of adoration in their eyes.
The intercom crackled to life. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts – we are on final approach and will be landing at the colony in five minutes.”
Scott pointed out the window as the helicopter banked slightly left. “Look, there it is!”
Cassandra followed his pointing finger. They were coming up on the parameter of the colony. The breakwater was first to pass below them with its protective barrier of palm trees which then flowed into orchards, gardens parks and greenhouses as they continued their overhead pass. Next came the mariculture containments, bright with their crops of blue-green algae and seaweed. She knew from looking over schematics of the city that these pools were also used for fish farming, shell fish farming and the growing of pearl producing oysters. Beyond these mariculture containments were a series of warm water lagoons where even now she could see swimmers and surfers frolicking in the temperate waters. And just before the city proper, was a beautiful expanse of sugar white sand that was dotted with palm trees, cabanas, and a series of small hotels. She could see why they called Idrus “The Pearl of the Sea”. The colony shone from within with a soft, golden glow and the central tower rose to a graceful 55 stories above the surface of the sea. Made up of hexagonal modules that cascaded out and down like rings of bubbles, and surrounded by its man-made beaches, hydroponic orchards and farms it was truly a beautiful site.
The helicopter angled in toward one of the beaches where a landing pad was clearly visible.
Lori was bouncing in her seat like a racehorse at the starting gate, and the sight almost made Cassandra forget her unease at the fact that all of this loveliness was floating on 4000 feet of ocean.
The pilot sat the craft down without even the slightest of bumps and the helicopter doors were opened by an attractive blonde wearing a bright blue sarong and carrying a PDA.
Cassandra regarded her working clothes – khakis and worn boots with a red bandanna tied around her neck for a little color – and felt immediately pale and shabby next to all of this woman’s sun bronzed loveliness. She sighed. It was going to be a long assignment.
The woman smiled. “Welcome to Idrus, my name is Julieanne.” She gestured at her companion, a dark haired woman dressed in a similar garment of bright green. “Mr. And Mrs. Bramson, if you’ll follow my associate Alanai she’ll show you to your suite.”
Scott shook her hand again before he followed his wife out onto the landing pad. “Don’t work too hard, C.J.. Take a little time to enjoy the beauty of the colony.”
“Thank you, I will.”
He followed after his wife as she skipped away on Alanai’s heels. She was pleased note that Scott and his wife weren’t swallowed up by the sand as they walked away. Perhaps the ground was solid after all.
Julieanne looked from her PDA and back to Cassandra in apparent confusion. And then she took a step forward and leaned into the open door, looking behind her. “Are you C.J. from the museum?”
She nodded, bending down to hold out her hand as the girl was blocking her exit from the helicopter. “Yes, I’m Cassandra James – most people call me C.J.”
Julieanne hesitated the barest of seconds, regarding her with narrowed her eyes before she pasted her smile back on and shook Cassandra’s offered hand. “Welcome, Miss James. I’ll be escorting you to Mr. Alcott at the penthouse.”
“Is there a problem?” she asked, picking up on the girl’s mood.
“No,” she told her as she climbed aboard the helicopter. “You’re just not quite what I expected.”
Cassandra smiled – she was used to this. “You were expecting a man. Don’t worry, it happens to me all the time.”
When people heard the word archeologist, in their minds they always seemed to picture Harrison Ford, his leather jacket and fedora covered in cobwebs – his bullwhip in hand, ready for action. When she walked in the room instead, there was always a surge of disappointment.
“I’m sure Mr. Alcott will be quite pleased,” the girl told her. “He was expecting someone who resembled my Grandfather.”
From the look in her eye, Cassandra judged that Julieanne would have preferred she looked like someone’s Grandfather.
As soon as the doors closed and they were both fastened in, the pilot took them aloft again.
“Is this your first visit to Idrus?” Julieanne asked her, sounding hopeful. “We get a lot of honeymoon couples.”
Cassandra tried not to wince at the question and was almost successful. A year ago today she might have been here on her honeymoon. The destination was supposed to be a surprise, but the surprise had been on her. The innocent question didn’t hurt quite so much, so maybe she was getting better at this. “This is my first visit. I’m afraid I’m only married to my work.”
To her eyes, it was clear that Julieanne had designs on Daniel Alcott – she couldn’t help but wonder if he knew about them. The girl had nothing to worry about where she was concerned; she was here to do a job, plain and simple.
Cassandra supposed it would have been nice of her to put the girl at ease to assure her that she had sworn off men for the foreseeable future, but at the moment she was feeling just catty enough to enjoy their little game. Besides, unfortunately for her, Julieanne reminded her a bit too much of David’s slut .
“I have to give Mr. Alcott his due,” she said, releasing her anger to paste a suitably dreamy expression on her face. “The place truly is a marvel of design and engineering.”
“Mr. Alcott will be pleased to hear you say so,” Julieanne said, not sounding pleased at all. “He’s been quite anxious about your arrival.”
She didn’t sound too happy about that statement either, Cassandra noted, warming to the game.
Julieanne actually frowned at her. “He works much too hard, and gets too far little rest.”
“Well I’ll try not to tire him out too much,” she promised with a wink.
The girls doll-like blue eyes grew wide at the possible double entendre. “Good,” she managed to choke out. “He’s had enough problems this week just dealing with reporters.”
“Has the press been giving Mr. Alcott a hard time?” she asked, truly curious.
Julieanne nodded. “I’m afraid so. They only seem to come in two flavors – either they love him and appreciate his vision, or they hate him and think he’s trying to start some kind of cult out here.”
Cassandra laughed. “A cult?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but people will believe anything these days,” Julieanne confided with a shake of her head.
“We’ll I promise to keep my eyes open for marauding members of the fifth estate,” she assured her, placing her hand over her heart.
“Good – because the one thing both groups seem to agree upon is a total lack of courtesy – the poor man is pursued relentlessly wherever he goes. He hardly ever leaves Idrus for that very reason.”
The master creator – trapped by his own creation. Somehow Cassandra found that incredibly sad.
“We’re all very fond of Mr. Alcott here – he takes very good care of us,” Julieanne told her, and then gazed pointedly at her. “And we take very good care of him.”
The man certainly inspired loyalty in his employees. There were days when she could have cheerfully strangled her own boss with little or no remorse, as could most that had a boss, but somehow she doubted that was the case on Idrus. She found herself a little more eager to meet Daniel Alcott just to find out what all the fuss was about.
The helicopter came to a gentle landing at a pad atop the highest spire of the city, and Julieanne ushered her out, and toward a door which contained a set of spiral stairs.
Cassandra smiled with wonder at the decor of something as simple as a set of stairs – it was as if they were walking down and around the core of a seashell. The hues of walls and stairs were of white, and ivory, and soft pink and shone with the luster of mother-of-pear, but it didn’t quite have the same smoothness, she stopped her descent for a moment to touch the nearest wall.
“It’s shell,” Julieanne told her, stopping as well.
“It’s quite beautiful,” Cassandra admitted, “but isn’t it a little extravagant for a stairway? It seems a little wasteful for a conservationist.”
Julieanne’s expression soured. “Nothing is wasted here – a lot of the walls of the colony are formed from natural materials such as shells left over from collecting pearls in the oyster beds. Mr. Alcott set it up so that the colony produces almost no waste material. If possible everything is processed, and reused in some way. Even the scrap animal protein produced by the mariculture operations is processed and pressed into dried, pelletized fish feed to care for our stocks. You’ll find that Mr. Alcott is not a man who abides waste.”
“So I’m starting to see,” she admitted.
She wasn’t used to dealing with wealth and a conscious in the same individual – in fact in the last year she’d come to believe they were mutually exclusive. If she wasn’t careful, Daniel Alcott was liable to change her mind on more than one subject.
With a nod, she started down again and Cassandra followed. Julieanne exited at the first door they came to which deposited them in the center of a circular room with glass walls on all sides. The view was stunning – as far as the eye could see was blue sky and ocean.
Julieanne nodded her toward a grouping of sofas and chairs that faced the glass. “If you’ll have a seat, Mr. Alcott will be up shortly.”
With that, she exited via the stairs.
Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to sit, and wandered the parameter of the circular room. On the opposite side of the cozy sitting area she found a well outfitted office. The desk was constructed of driftwood and a large variety of seashells and water smoothed stones – she’d never seen anything like it. All of the furniture in the room had a similar feel – as if it had been plucked whole from nature.
She tried to imagine living in this paradise that Daniel Alcott had tried to create where the residents of the colony existed in a state of perfect harmony with nature, and with one another.
Nothing is that perfect, her more jaded self sneered . Something was bound to go wrong sooner or later. Humanity thrived on chaos, disorder and violence – it knew no other way. God had cast mankind from the Garden of Eden for very good reasons.
Daniel Alcott was trying to build another version of Eden on Earth, but unfortunately, Cassandra mused, all it took to spoil perfection was one snake in the garden. In her experience, the world was full of snakes – big ones in suits.
“You appear to be in a brown study,” came the sound of a cultured English voice from behind her.
With a start, she turned toward the voice. A man with black hair, and stark blue eyes stood smiling down at her. He was tall, and had a trim, athletic build. His clothes were casual, but not as casual as Julieanne’s sarong. Looking very professional in a pair of pressed tan pants and a cream colored, close-fitting shirt, she was surprised to note the lack of any ostentatious accouterments such as a Rolex watch, or anything made by Armani. It appeared that Daniel Alcott was a very low-key billionaire. Her gaze went back to his face, and got stuck on his bright, intelligent eyes. They were electric blue, and so clear she felt if she gazed long enough into them, she might be able to tell what he was thinking without him having to speak aloud. What she read at the moment was pleasure, and a slight bit of amusement.
“I’m Daniel Alcott,” he offered.
“Cassandra James,” she replied, stepping forward to offer him her hand. She was surprised when rather than shaking it, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back.
Upon first impression, the words suave, charming and brilliant came easily to mind. The man had an undeniable charisma – she could feel it almost like an electric current where his skin touched hers. Suddenly she felt a great deal of pity for Julieanne – no wonder she was territorial.
Still in possession of her hand, he drew it through his arm and steered them toward the afore mentioned sofas. “I’d like to thank you for signing on with us, Miss James, “ he told her – his smooth English accent quite pleasing to her ear.
“How could I resist a trip to Utopia,” she told him with a smile – lying through her teeth. If she had been given the choice, resisting would have been easy, but now that she was here, she couldn’t say she was sorry she’d come.
They sat facing the view, but it didn’t draw Cassandra’s attention as it had before – she found she had eyes only for the man who sat beside her.
“We’re getting quite a collection of trinkets, and I’ve had my people take pains to put them in some kind of order, but they need to be recorded and evaluated by a professional.”
“What sort of trinkets?” she asked, truly curious.
“All kinds, but most look to be of African origin to me, but then I’m not a qualified judge,” he admitted with a shrug. “Didn’t you receive the pictures I sent?”
She shook her head. “They sent me here directly from a dig in Egypt - I’m afraid the museum didn’t feel the need to give me very much information before they packed me off to the closest airport.”
“Ah, an adventuress – a woman after my own heart,” he added with a grin.
When he smiled at her with the full devastating effect of those blue eyes, she felt a little flutter in her chest that had little to do with the fact that they were sitting in the middle of the ocean.
This is not good, Cassandra, she told herself. You’ve sworn off men. Men are not to be trusted, she recited. You do not need a man to smile at you to make you feel complete. Now get a grip.
“From what I understand, you’ve had a few adventures of your own,” she told him, getting him off the subject of her. “You’ve climbed Everest twice, faced down Japanese whaling ships in a dingy, taken on more than a few governments for their poor environmental practices – and the list goes on.”
“I’ve had a few adventures,” he admitted, “but I fear most of them haven’t made me very popular.” His eyes sparkled as if at some private joke. “There are quite a few people in the outside world who wouldn’t mind seeing me in a pine box.”
As an environmentalist, she knew he had stepped on more than a few toes, but some of the same governments who were annoyed with him had certainly not refused his help when it came to the resources Idrus provided.
“After all the good you’ve done, I would think people would be grateful,” she said.
He laughed. “Some have been – although grudgingly – but I’ve also made myself some very powerful enemies.”
“For instance,” she questioned. She couldn’t picture anyone remaining angry at this man after having spent five minutes with him. He had disarmed her easily enough, and she’d been armed to the teeth. She’d brought a bucket full of preconceived notions about him into the room with her, and they’d gone out the window the first time he’d smiled at her.
“Well, there are a few oil sheiks who don’t count me among their best chums, and in line behind them, you’ll find representatives of the textile industry, the logging industry, and the commercial fishing industry for starters.” He sighed. “I’m afraid my ideals have irritated a great number of people with less than savory agendas.”
She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s little wonder you don’t get ashore much.”
“Don’t feel too sorry for me,” he told her with a gentle smile. “I enjoy my life here on Idrus.”
“But doesn’t it ever make you angry?” she asked. Here was a man who had done so much good for the world. With Idrus, he had provided the world with a source of clean, inexpensive energy, and of the protein rich algae food products Idrus produced, most went free of charge to feed the starving peoples of the world - and what was Daniel Alcott’s reward? Hatred, and envy. She knew what it felt like to be betrayed, and that someone would treat him with the same disregard disturbed her a great deal more than it should after only having known him for five minutes – she could see why Julieanne was ready to thrown herself on the fire for him.
“Sometimes,” he admitted with a rueful smile. “But I try not to dwell on it – being angry gives your enemies power over you, and why should I allow them even that small victory?”
Cassandra stared at him, stunned - his words had struck a cord deep inside her ravaged soul. She had allowed her anger at David’s betrayal to rule her life – there was no doubt of that, and here sat a man who was only trying to help this wretched world, and people wanted him dead for it, and he didn’t even hate them for it. Could this man be for real? Could there a genuinely good, un-self-centered, non-vengeful, altruistic man on the planet? And if he was for real, why was he alone? She knew at least a dozen women who would have killed to know he even existed.
“Why indeed,” she said, the double meaning of her words known only to her.
“But listen to me rambling on.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he shot her another stunning smile. “I fear I’m being a terrible host.”
Apparently he was modest too, she marveled, feeling slightly stunned.
“Let me at least show you to your room,” he continued, standing and offered her his arm. “I believe Julieanne has already seen to the delivery of your bags.”
“Ah yes, Julieanne,” she said as he escorted her once again down the spiral stairs. “She was quite adamant that I not make myself a bother to you.”
He laughed. “Yes, our dear Julieanne is always on the alert. She was quite appalled when I told her you’d be staying here with me in the penthouse.”
At that casual revelation, Cassandra nearly stumbled down the stairs, but Daniel’s quickly out-thrust arm steadied her. His blue eyes were full of amusement when she looked up into his face.
“Is that arrangement unsuitable?” he asked, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t feel right about putting one of the tourists out of their reservation, and I’m afraid there are no open berths in the colonists housing.”
“You’re certain I won’t be intruding?” she asked, feeling her breath quicken slightly at the thought of sharing his space. Was she ready for this? Was she ready to be so near someone. Rage had been her only true company recently, and it did not draw people to her company.
He laughed. “Certainly not – Heaven knows I have more than enough room here. Some days I feel like the ghost of Henry the Eighth rambling around in his tower.”
The genuine warmth emanating from him was like sunshine, but without the burn, she mused. She could do this. “If you’re certain,” she told him.
“Quite,” he told her. “It will be nice to have the company.”
She smiled at him. “I wouldn’t want to get on Julieanne’s bad side – she seems rather formidable where you’re concerned.”
He laughed, his hand coming up to cover her fingers where they rested on his arm in an easy, genuine gesture. “I promise to protect you.”
“Then I accept,” she assured him, her heart pounding a bit harder at his intense regard. “Thank you for opening your home to me.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he assured her and they started walking again.
“You have quite a watchdog in Julieanne,” she told him, wondering if she was more to him than just that. That thought made her feel surprisingly jealous. She hadn’t thought her ravaged heart was capable of that emotion any longer.
They passed a door, and continued down.
“I do believe she was a rottweiler in another life,” Daniel joked. “She feels it her job to protect me from my adversaries as well as from over eager fans and marauding reporters. I fear all of the above have arrived at the colony purporting to be guests. The reporters are particularly pesky – on occasion they spring at me from out of the dark with their cameras and microphones.”
If reporters were springing out at him, how safe was he from those who truly wished him harm? she wondered.
“With so many people after your hide, are you certain that you’re safe here?”
“I might be an idealist, Miss James, but I did see to it that the colony has an adequate security force made up of both mechanical and human elements. The perimeter is patrolled constantly by water craft as well as by electronic surveillance, and the interior parts of the colony are patrolled on foot by my men and by wheel for our cybernetic minions – not to mention that D.A.I.S.I. constantly monitors all public areas of the city.”
“Daisy?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, D.A.I.S.I. is the name of Idrus’s A.I., or central computer if you prefer. It stands for Dynamic Artificial Integrated Synthetic Intelligence, or D. A. I. S. I.”
“So the entire colony is run by a computer?” she asked as they passed yet another door without stopping.
“D.A.I.S.I. is something quite special. If we all vanished tomorrow, she could run Idrus by herself with the just aid of her cybernetic minions. Remind me later, and I’ll introduce the two of you – though I imagine she’s already familiar with you,” he said, gesturing at a small smooth black circle upon the wall as they passed. “She has eyes everywhere.”
For a reason she couldn’t pinpoint, Cassandra found that to be kind of creepy, but she understood his need for security even in his own private quarters.
They finally exited the stairs into a large sitting room. The room had the same soft, organic coloring that she had observed previously, except this one was only dotted with windows instead of having walls of pure glass. The walls were also inner spaced with a series of fantastic, built in aquariums containing exotic fish and aquatic plant life. The soft lighting bouncing off the water of the aquariums made the room seem to ripple like you were looking up at the surface from beneath the waves. For a moment, Cassandra found the sensation disconcerting, but she was far too fascinated by the fish in the aquariums to let it bother her for long. There were reef fish, such as clown fish, and seahorses, and coral and anemones, but most of the specimens she found she couldn’t even identify. They were a riot of grace color gliding or swaying contentedly along. A clown fish vanished into what seemed the left wall of his tank only to emerge a tank several feet further along in the wall, and she realized that the tanks were all interconnected. Since she was a child, she had hated the water, but she had always loved aquariums, they were a way to experience the beautiful diversity of life that lived in the water without having to enter their domain which she feared.
“This is lovely,” she told him, and watched his eyes light with pleasure at her smile.
“I’m pleased you think so. Your bedroom is there to the left,” he told her, indicating the proper door with a point of his finger. “I’ll let you get settled in, and be back to pick you up for an early lunch in about an hour. Perhaps then we can discuss how you wish to proceed.”
She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you then.”
With a smile, he turned back to the stairs and vanished from sight.
Cassandra went through the door he’d indicated, and found a tastefully decorated bedroom in shades of blue and a light sandy-tan – she even had her very own aquarium. Her bags had been laid out at the foot of the bed, but she ignored them, going instead to look out the window.
“Oh, Cassandra, what are you doing?” she asked herself. She was attracted to him. She was dangerously attracted to him, which didn’t bode well for her having sworn off men. But why shouldn’t she be attracted to him? Some part of her demanded. Hadn’t she given David enough? Hadn’t he destroyed enough of her life? Why should she give him one minute more?
Cassandra took a deep breath. Why indeed. She allowed herself to look forward to her time on Idrus – and most particularly to her time with Daniel Alcott.
She smiled. If she hurried, she might just have time to shower and change before he picked her up for lunch.

Chapter 2
Daniel found himself whistling as he wound his way back up the spiral staircase. He was also certain that he was wearing a completely idiotic grin, and was grateful that no one was around to see it. He couldn’t help himself. There was something about Cassandra James that he found to be completely captivating, and it wasn’t just her physical beauty – although it certainly wasn’t lacking. She had eyes the color of polished jade, and skin like polished alabaster. How she had managed to protect that complexion on a dig in Egypt he couldn’t fathom, but it must have involved copious amounts of sun block and a good deal of shade – in his world of leathery sun worshipers the sight of her smooth creamy skin was a refreshing change. Her thick chestnut hair had been twisted into a business like knot at the back of her neck, and he couldn’t help wondering how it would look loose and flowing around her slim shoulders.
When he had requested an archeologist from the museum, in his mind he had pictured a portly balding man with thick glasses and little to no sense of humor. He was counting on having to share his space with someone who would force him to endure endless evenings of port, and cigars, and tedious discussions on politics. My how things had changed. He could tell immediately from Julieanne’s expression when she came to fetch him that his premonition hadn’t been entirely accurate – she had seemed less than pleased and slightly flustered about their new arrival so he had no longer been certain what to expect, though he couldn’t imagine anything worse than his original vision.
When he had come up the stairs and saw Cassandra James standing there, it had been like receiving a gift that he hadn’t asked for but was nonetheless quite pleasantly surprised to receive.
He was still whistling when he reached his office again. The first thing on his mind was lunch. He had to make certain it was the finest Idrus had to offer, and he knew just the person to set it up.
Picking up the digital pad from his desk, he quickly typed out the menu, then he reached up and touched the hidden com link behind his ear. “Julieanne?”
Her reply was immediate as always.
“Yes, Mr. Alcott.”
“Could you come up to the office?”
“On my way,” she reported, an oddly hopeful note in her tone.
While he was waiting for her to arrive, he amused himself by walking around the office. The atmospheric controls in the tower were so tight that if he closed his eyes, he could still pick out the scent of Cassandra’s perfume – light and floral, it reminded him of honeysuckle or clover.
Catching sight of his stuporous expression in the window glass, Daniel shook his head. He had spent fifteen minutes with this woman and he was acting like a besotted fool. He wondered vaguely what was wrong with him, but after he thought about if for a moment he found that he really didn’t care. The thought of working with her over the next few weeks made him happier than he’d been in far too long, and he was bloody well going to enjoy it every last moment of it.
Julieanne was suddenly beside him in her quiet unassuming way. At the moment her lovely face was wearing a surprisingly smug expression.
“What did she do? Would you like me to find other quarters for her?”
He managed to bite back his laugh with an effort. Julieanne had been less than pleased to learn he’d be sharing his quarters with their visitor when she thought they were expecting a man. She seemed even less pleased by the thought of him bunking down with Miss James. He fancied she had something of a crush on him.
“I didn’t call you to evict her,” he told her. “I called to ask you arrangements for lunch.”
“Oh,” she said, deflating noticeably. “What would you like?”
“I’ve copied it down for you.” He smiled as he handed her the menu. “I know you’ll do your usual wonderful job.”
Her expression lightened a bit at his compliemt. “I’ll see that it’s take care of.”
With only the slightest bit of a glower, she headed back down the stairs.
Still smiling, Daniel returned to his desk, and sat on the corner.
“D.A.I.S.I.?”
With a faint glow, the A.I. popped into being a few feet in front of him to regard him with her golden eyes. Tall and slender, she was wearing the common uniform of the colony, a peacock blue sarong. Her dark hair hung past her shoulders in a cascading wave.
“How may I be of assistance, Daniel?” she asked in her melodic voice.
“I need a crash course in archeology,” he told her.
“Which branch?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and looking as amused as a hologram could manage to appear.
“All of them,” he said, “but particularly African. Maybe we could start with some of the artifacts our teams have recovered.”
“May I ask the purpose of your sudden interest?”
“I need to be able to make intelligent lunch conversation,” he admitted. He knew next to nothing about archeology, and he found he had a sudden burning interest to learn.
“Perhaps I could show her one of the artifacts we’ve recovered. Have you any suggestions?”
Multiple holographic representations popped into view to hover in the air between them. One was an odd looking key on a leather cord, another was a small, intricately carved statue. There were also items of jewelry including diadems and rings and necklaces. But even with all of the choices with which she presented him, he found he was oddly attracted to the strange little key.
“What do we know about the key?” he asked, pointing.
“I have been unable to match the key with any of the items we have recovered thus far,” D.A.I.S.I. answered.
“So whatever it opens might still be on the sea floor?” he asked, intrigued.
“That is one possibility,” she agreed with a nod. “It is also possible that the object it opens could have been lost or destroyed long before the key found its way here.”
It was small and portable and intriguing. “That’s perfect,” he told her. “Would you have it sent up?”
Cassandra – Miss James, he corrected himself – he hadn’t been asked to call her Cassandra yet. Miss James was certain to find the key interesting, and it would give them a point of conversation.
D.A.I.S.I. nodded. “Certainly.”
With an eager smile, he sat down behind the desk. “Now for Archeology 101.”
He checked his watch. He should have time to cram a few facts into his head before he had to change for lunch.

Chapter 3
She was starting to lose her nerve, that was for certain, but for some reason she couldn’t explain even to herself, instead donning more professional attire after her quick shower, Cassandra put on a light summer dress and a pair of sandals she’d thrown into her bags at the last moment on the off chance she might have some free time to try and relax and enjoy the colony. Suddenly that statement had taken on a whole new meaning, and it terrified her.
The dress was made from a light fabric with thin straps, and was a shade of pale green that she’d once been told complimented her eyes. Cassandra knew from painful experience that at sea, the sun could be worse than vicious, so she’d left her hair down to protect her neck and shoulders. Having been cursed with a fair complexion from the moment she’d come screaming into the world, she’d used so much SPF 30 she should own Coppertone by now. Unfortunately her complexion also made her emotions far too easy to read on her face, she mused as she examined her reflection in the mirror critically one last time and found that she was blushing. This wasn’t a date, she told herself sternly. It was lunch with her employer. With a last disgusted glance, she turned away from the mirror and left her room to wait for Daniel.
One thing that had lightened her mood was the fact that it felt wonderful to be completely free of sand for the first time since she could remember. She loved working in Egypt, but after six months, it was very nice to be free of scratching and chafing.
She turned expectantly as she heard the sound of footfalls on the stairs – she wouldn’t want him to catch her in another “brown study” as he’d called it.
Daniel took two steps into the room and froze, and his expression suddenly made her wonder if she’d committed some type of social faux pas like protruding underpants, or a large stain somewhere she wasn’t aware of.
She gave the front of her dress a nervous glance, and when she looked back up, she found Daniel was standing right in front of her.
Blue eyes intense, he wordlessly raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it. “May I say that you look quite lovely?” he asked, as if requesting her permission.
She smiled, feeling her cheeks flush again. “Thank you.”
How did he do that? She’d spoken to heads of state, presidents and kings at more museum fund-raisers than she could count – all of whom were smooth and accomplished talkers – and never once had she blushed like a school girl when they paid her a compliment. What was the difference?
As she gazed up into his eyes, it suddenly hit her – Daniel Alcott was sincere.
“Shall we?” he asked, drawing her arm through his.
She managed a smile, and a nod.
He had changed as well. He was wearing dark trousers and a dark jacket with a collarless white shirt, and she suddenly felt more secure about her fashion choices.
He escorted her up one floor to a small dining room where a spread fit for a king was laid out. The table was set with crystal and china and faced floor to ceiling windows that looked out to the sea.
“I thought you might enjoy sampling some of the dishes we produce here at Idrus,” he told her with a smile as he guided her to her chair.
She laughed. “I feel like visiting royalty. I’ve spent most of the last six months in a tent in the desert with the tourists and the jackals – you’re going to spoil me.”
His smile only widened. “Don’t forget we have reporters which are far worse in action and temperament than any jackals I’ve ever had occasion to meet.”
“Yes, and I don’t suppose you can tranquilize them when they get too close for comfort.”
He shot her a wink. “If you want to try, I’ll be glad to help you erase the security tapes – they’ll never know what hit them.”
She still couldn’t get over how easy he was to be with – to talk to. He wasn’t at all what she had expected. In her position at the museum she’d dealt with a lot of wealthy, male benefactors who expected “special privileges” for their contributions. They were arrogant, and condescending, and self-centered, and as shallow as a kiddie pool in a drought. Daniel Alcott thought of others before he thought of himself, and she wasn’t quite certain how to react to that. It wasn’t something she was used to – certainly not from David. With an effort, she pushed him out of her mind – he wasn’t going to spoil this for her.
After an exquisite lunch of crab cakes, fresh garden vegetables and some very unusual green bread made with elements of the algae grown by the colony, she and Daniel retired back to the glass tower room where they’d first met, and which she had learned was his office.
They had become quite comfortable with one another over lunch, like old friends, and she was pleased when rather than sitting behind his desk, he joined her by sitting next to her in one of the guest chairs. He had almost made her forget that she was in the middle of the ocean – almost.
“First thing is first,” he told her. “I believe I promised you an introduction. D.A.I.S.I., are you there, Love?”
Cassandra nearly jumped out of her seat when a woman popped into the room two feet in front of Daniel’s chair. Tall and slender, she was wearing the same bright blue sarong that had been sported by Julieanne. Her hair hung past her shoulders in cascading dark waves, and she had eyes the color of molten gold.
“How may I assist you, Daniel?” she asked.
“I wanted to introduce you to Miss James,” he told her with a polite nod. “She’ll be staying with us for a while.”
“I have added her pattern to my parameters,” the faintly glowing woman added with a return nod, and the barest glance in Cassandra’s direction. “What level of clearance is Cassandra James to be permitted?”
“Miss James is to be granted full clearance, including all areas of the penthouse tower. She will be our guest while she catalogues our collection of antiquities. Do your best to make her feel at home.”
“Yes, Daniel.”
Cassandra shook her head in amazement. “She looks so real.”
“It’s amazing what you can do with holographic technology these days,” he said. “Sometimes I forget myself that she’d not real, until I make a careless gesture, and my hand passes through her,” he said, extending his arm, which disappeared into D.A.I.S.I.’s mid section without noticeable effect.
“That’s incredible. Can she manifest anywhere?”
“Anywhere inside the colony,” he told her. “People are much more comfortable addressing D.A.I.S.I. in this fashion that they would be speaking to a computer interface. Everyone here regards her as just another resident. If you need her, all you have to do is call.”
“I’ll remember,” she said.
Daniel smiled up at the vision before them. “Thank you, Love. That will be all for now.”
With a nod, D.A.I.S.I. vanished as if she had never been.
Cassandra shook her head. “I feel a bit like Alice.”
Daniel laughed. “I wouldn’t quite say this is wonderland, but it’s as close as we’re likely to get on Earth.”
“Anymore surprises I should prepare for?” she asked him.
He raised his hands. “I’m fresh out, Miss James, I promise.”
“Please, won’t you call me C.J.?” she asked.
With a mysterious smile he shook his head, his eyes going somewhere else for a moment. “I’m afraid I can’t. I know a C.J., and you’re considerably more beautiful than he, but I’ll call you Cassandra if I may? And you must call me Daniel.”
She nodded, and didn’t even wince. David had always called her Cassandra, and of late, she’d snapped at anyone who tried, but she loved the lilt his accent gave to her name. He could call her Cassandra all he liked.
“Very good, then. How would you like to proceed, Cassandra? Would you like to examine some of the artifacts first? In fact, just this morning they brought up this charming little key. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out an odd looking key on a leather cord.
She took it from his hand. Both the key and the leather cord were smooth and unblemished – showing not the slightest signs of having been immersed in water. They looked more like they had been manufactured just yesterday.
“This came off the bottom of the ocean?” she asked, and he must have heard the scepticism in her tone.
“They brought it up this morning just before you arrived.”
She turned the key in her hands. It was of an odd, circular looping design, and she couldn’t even say what metal was composed from – she couldn’t even say how she knew it was a key – it looked more like a pendant. But somehow it just felt right to call it a key.
“Was it found in some type of water-tight container?” she asked.
“No,” he answered, one corner of his mouth quivering as if trying to resist a smile.
Oddly mesmerized by the tiny trinket, she shook her head to clear it, and handed it back to him. No matter what it was, it could not have come off the bottom of the ocean this morning – restoration of that quality – if it was even possible – took months, and even then a metal object would have been far too fragile to carry casually in your pocket.
“Are you sure someone isn’t pulling your leg?” she asked him.
His smile bloomed as he put the key back into his pocket. “I knew you’d say something like that. You’re never going to believe me unless you see for yourself.”
“She what?” she asked, distracted by the look of genuine pleasure that lit his blue eyes – the man looked like a sun bronzed angel when he smiled.
“You’ll never believe me unless you examine the site where the artifacts were discovered for yourself.”
The bottom fell out of her stomach. “The site on the sea floor?” she asked, trying not to panic.
He nodded. “I think you’ll be quite pleasantly surprised. We can take one of the subs down.”
“Sub?” she repeated, feeling her chest start to constrict. She resisted the urge to put her head between her knees with an effort.
“I realize we’re not particularly dressed for it,” he said glancing over their attire, “but this will just be a short venture to introduce you to the sight.”
“A short trip underwater,” she said numbly. Just a short tip into her worst nightmare, that was all.
“Are you all right?” he asked, placing a steading hand on her elbow.
If he discovered her weakness now, he might very well send her away and ask for someone who was not afraid to go under water, and she sincerely did not wish to leave. She had faced cobra infested tombs, scorpions in her sleeping bag and spiders the size of dinner plates in her boots. She would not be undone by a little water.
Cassandra took a deep steading breath. “No, I’m fine. It is a good idea to see the site first. It might give me a better understanding of the nature of the artifacts.”
“Wonderful. We’ll go now. Just give me a moment to make the arrangements with D.A.I.S.I.”
He shifted his focus to the empty air. “Did you get that, Love?” he called.
The A.I. once again popped into the room, looking as ethereal as ever. “I’ll see to it personally,” she told him with a smile, and then vanished.
Daniel stood, and offered her his arm. “Shall we go?”
She took his arm, and he led her toward the stairs. Her knees felt slightly wobbly as they followed the stairs down another two levels and then exited into a deserted corridor with a small elevator. She tried to push the fear out of her mind by filling it with other thoughts.
Daniel gestured her inside the elevator, and then followed. He pushed a button for one of the lower levels, and the elevator descended rapidly causing her stomach to flipflop again.
“Is this part of the station closed off?”she asked in an effort to distract herself.
“In a manner of speaking – this is my private access tower. This lift lets out onto all levels of the colony, but access to it is restricted to just a select few.”
She could understand why he felt the need for privacy, but she couldn’t help but think of him locked up here all alone in his tower with a certain degree of sadness. Daniel Alcott might have constructed an empire, but what good was an empire if you had no one to share it with? One might even say he had been trapped by his own success. She got the feeling that he was enjoying her company a good deal more than he’d thought he would, and she was enjoying his company a great deal more than she should have.
If she didn’t get her mind back on her job, she wasn’t going to accomplish much, but when she looked up into those blue eyes of his, concentration became more than just a slight bit difficult – then the elevator doors opened and concentration became impossible.
As far as she could see in either direction was a wall of water. A school of little golden fishes swam by followed by a lazily gliding sea turtle.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she backpedaled until her shoulders were pressing into the back wall of the elevator.
Daniel tensed, his gaze whipping forward as if in search of some danger, and then just as quickly back to her face in apparent confusion.
“Cassandra, are you all right?” he asked, reaching out a tentative hand as if to steady her.
She was starting to feel dizzy, and realized she was still holding her breath. She let it out in a long shudder and quickly sucked another one into her burning lungs.
“Cassandra.” He was sounding fairly alarmed now, but she was paralyzed by the sight of so much water. What was holding it back? Was it glass? Was it a force field of some kind? What if the power failed? What if something hit the glass and cracked it? She was close to hyperventilating now and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself.
Daniel stepped in front of her, cutting off her view.
“Cassandra!” Taking her by the shoulders with his warm hands, he gave her a hard shake, which finally succeeded in gaining her attention.
“We’re underwater,” she squeaked, her voice sounding to her own ears like it was coming from very far away, from some deep, dark tunnel at whose end she stood beneath all of that water.
Reaching behind him without looking, Daniel smacked at the elevator buttons and the doors slid closed, but then he looked uncertain.
“Are you claustrophobic?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Is it the water?” he asked.
“And the . . . the glass.” She knew the city floated upon the sea, but the thought had never occurred to her that the parts of it that were beneath the water would be made of something transparent – she had pictured meter thick walls of reinforced concrete and steel holding all of that water back – not a flimsy glass partition. She started to shiver, remembering how the dark churning water had felt as it closed over her head.
He released her shoulders, and slid a supportive arm behind the small of her back, bracing her against the wall with his body, lending her both warmth and support. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” he said sincerely. “It hits some people that way, but I promise you it’s perfectly safe. That wall is composed of a transparent polymer that wouldn’t shatter even if you hit it with an old style wrecking ball.”
She managed another nod, her knees feeling a bit more steady. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she wasn’t certain she’d still be on her feet.
He captured her full attention by touching her cheek gently with the back of his fingers, then he gazed deeply into her eyes. “You have my word, Cassandra, so long as you’re my guest in Idrus, no harm will come to you.”
Looking into the deep blue calm of his eyes, she felt the fear drain from her body to be replaced by a surge of adrenaline that caused her heart to pound just as hard. She was suddenly very aware of the cool metal wall at her back, in contrast to the warmth of the full length of his body pressed against her front. It was certainly not an unpleasant sensation.
“Better now?” he asked.
She nodded again, too breathless to speak.
“At least some of your color is returning,” he said, his gaze anxiously roving her face. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to swoon.”
She managed a nervous laugh. “Swoon?”
He smiled in return, some of the tension leaving his face. “Call it what you like, but I was certain you were headed for the floor.”
“You may have been right,” she admitted.
He drew away from her, but kept a steading hand on her elbow. “Shall we try again?” he asked uncertainly.
She nodded, swallowing down the butterflies that surged up into her throat.
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you certain?”
She smiled up at him. “I promise not to swoon so long as you promise not to let go of my arm.”
“I can do better than that.” With a warm smile, he returned his arm to her waist, drawing her securely against the warmth of his side. “Holding a beautiful woman is certainly one of the easiest promises I’ve ever been asked to keep.”
With a last questioning glance, he reached for the elevator button and once again opened the doors.
Cassandra felt the panic try to return, and her fingers tightened convulsively in the fabric of his shirt, but she forced her breathing to remain calm as one step at a time, he led her out of the elevator and into the corridor. Light filtered down from above, flooding the corridor with soft blue waves of illumination. A colorful riot of fish glided by the glass and then up and away to be lost overhead. A small school of jelly fish drifted by further down the line, their tentacles waving jauntily along behind. She gazed at the scene, both horrified and fascinated at the same time. It was so beautiful – she hadn’t expected it to be beautiful. To her the sea was a crashing nightmare of swirling black water and howling wind, but this was light, and soft, and beautiful.
“All right, are you?” Daniel asked, his voice concerned.
She nodded, and he kept going, walking with her until they were right next to the transparent partition.
With his free hand, Daniel reached out to clasp hers, raising both of their hands to touch the wall.
“See? Solid as a rock.”
Solid it may have been, but the surface was cold – cold as death. A vivid flashback of angry waves pulling at her with icy fingers as they sucked her down with the boat came sharply back to mind, and convulsively she jerked her hand away. She forced the memory violently away as her breathing started to quicken again. No matter how much time passed, it remained vivid and fresh – her own personal nightmare.
“What happened to you?” Daniel asked softly.
She forced herself to look away from the water and focus on his face – on his kind blue eyes. “Is it that obvious?” she asked, her voice trembling as much as her tightly clenched hands.
“No one feels the terror I see in your eyes without good reason.” His tone was soft, soothing. “Was it an accident?”
She nodded.
“Ship or plane?”
“I was on a boat.”
“What happened?” he asked, his voice velvet calm. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
She took a deep shuddering breath. She hadn’t spoken of this to anyone – not even to her father – so why did she feel the urge to pour her heart out to a man she barely knew?
“It was a long time ago,” she started, trying to keep her tone level.
He nodded encouragingly.
“My Father loves the ocean, but I think my Mother loved it more – she used to take me sailing. When my Father was away, sometimes we’d go for weeks at a time, the Caribbean islands, Australia, Hawaii. I saw them all before I was seven. Then one summer we decided to take a trip to the Cayman Islands, but before we could make port, we ran into a storm.”
Cassandra’s nails dug into her palms as she tried to hold off the flood of memories that were trying to break through the last of her shaky self-control, and she started to speak faster before she couldn’t.
“It came out of nowhere. The blue sky turned black and the waves got so big, so fast.” Cassandra felt herself shiver, and he drew her tighter against his side. “She tried to keep the boat headed into the waves, and she was doing fine until we lost the keel.”

“Then the storm just tossed us around like a shoe box in a hurricane. The waves pounded the boat relentlessly until something snapped, and the ocean just reached out and sucked the boat down with us still inside.”
She would never forget the sound the boat made as it broke apart around them – like the sound of breaking bones – like the sound of something dying.
“I had my life jacket on, but she’d lost hers. It got knocked out of her hands and went over the side before she could put it on. I think she knew then that she might not make it, so she attached the life raft to me.”
She would never forget the look on her Mother’s face when they started to sink – love, horror, regret, disbelief, fury – they had all been mingled there as she realized they both might die.
“We both went under with the boat, but somehow she managed to get me free of the wreckage, and pull the cord on the life raft. I came back up, but she never didn’t.”
“How old were you?” he asked, his voice filled with horror and pity.
“Twelve,” she said.
“My God,” he whispered. “No wonder you’re horrified.”
Having said it all out loud, she felt lighter somehow, almost as if a burden had been lifted off her soul. Her breathing eased as she became heady with the sensation of this newfound relief.
“Cassandra, we don’t have to do this,” Daniel said, drawing her away from the wall, turning them back toward the elevator, but she stopped and he stopped with her.
She took a deep, steadying breath. “No. I need to do this. I’m not a child anymore, and it’s a beautiful sunny day.” she gestured to the wall behind them. “Not a hurricane in sight.”
“And there’s no chance one will occur,” he said quickly. “You’ll be relieved to know that this area of the sea is known as ‘the doldrums’ due to its calm weather and mild temperatures. Hardly anything interesting ever happens here,” he paused, amusement lighting his blue eyes, “meteorologically speaking that is – It’s one of the reasons I chose this spot for Idrus.”
“That’s good to know,” she told him. No hurricanes was always a good thing.
“You’re certain you want to go through with this?” he asked, a note of unresolved concern in his tone.
She nodded. “I am.”
“Then I’ll concede to your wishes on one condition,” he told her, a stubborn set to chin that made it clear that he was serious.
“Your condition?” she asked.
“If at any time during the descent you start to become too uncomfortable, you must tell me at once.”
She nodded. “Agreed.”
“Very good then,” he replied. “We’ll do just fine.”
She was determined that she would do just fine. Her chin acquired a stubborn set of its own. She would not break down in front of him again. She was a person who usually kept her emotions under tight control, but there was something about Daniel Alcott that just seemed to melt through to her core and expose all that lie hidden beneath. It was very disconcerting, but not entirely unpleasant.
His arm still around her waist, he turned away from the elevator and they started down the corridor.
For the first time, Cassandra realized they were not alone. People were walking both toward and away from them down the long, softly rounded corridor, and a small group up ahead had stopped, their backs turned politely away from what she was sure had been quite a scene. She averted her gaze as they passed, feeling her cheeks flaming. She was certain she wouldn’t have to worry about concealing this particular phobia any longer – everyone on the station was bound to know about it before long.
Daniel made a left turn into an interior part of the station that had nice, solid, opaque walls on both sides, and she knew that he had done it for her benefit. He must have felt some of the tension leave her, because he lightened his grip around her waist.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” he said cautiously, “why did you take this assignment?”
She laughed. “It wasn’t exactly my idea. The director of my museum sent me on this little jaunt – with a bit of incentive from my Father, I have a feeling.”
“Your own Father sent you out here?” he asked, sounding more than slightly appalled.
“My Father is of the opinion that I’ll never get over my fear of the water unless I just jump right back in.”
“Ah, the old if you fall off the horse theory,” he said knowingly. “I fear I am all too familiar with that phenomena from personal experiences at the age of eight.”
“How did you fair?” she asked him curiously. Somehow she couldn’t imagine Daniel Alcott being afraid of anything.
“It worked for me,” he admitted, “but my issue was with a four footed fiend by the name of Prince Edward – his favorite past time was trying drag me off his back against the side of the barn – he was quite good at it too.”
“He doesn’t sound like much of a prince to me,” she observed lightly. His smooth, polished tones and charming accent were putting her at ease – the sound of his voice was like a tonic for her nerves as they took a sharp right turn and continued down the corridor.
He laughed. “On that point we agree, but my Father restored me to his back without fail each time I came flying off.”
“Did Edward ever stop trying to drag you off?” she asked with true curiosity.
“No,” he told her with a rueful smile.
It was her turn to be incredulous. “And yet your Father kept making you ride him?”
He nodded. “I don’t know who was more stubborn, Father, or the horse, but eventually, I learned how to prevent the latter from trying his nasty little tricks, and Prince Edward and I came to an civilized understanding.”
“How old were you?” she asked.
“I was eight,” he said.
“I think your father and mine would get along famously,” she told him.
Daniel stopped walking before a large water-tight door and took her by the shoulders again, his demeanor suddenly much more serious.
“On the other side of this door lies what we refer to on Idrus, as a bubble room.”
“A bubble room?” she asked, feeling some of the tension return.
“Just like the name implies, the room is completely transparent – like a large soap bubble – the walls ceiling and floor are made of the same polymer as the wall by the elevator.”
The floor was see-through! If one wall had caused her to freak out, how was she going to walk across a transparent floor? There mere thought made her feel nauseated.
“In the center of the floor is what we call a Moon Pool, from which our submarines arrive and depart for underwater operations,” he continued cautiously. “This is where we must catch our ride.”
“So what you’re telling me is that not only are the walls, floor and ceiling transparent,” she said, trying to keep an hysterical edge from her voice, “but there’s also a large hole in the floor that’s open to the sea?”
He nodded. “That’s precisely what I’m telling you - and in order to get to the sub, you must walk across the transparent floor of a transparent room and cross a gang plank above open water to the conning tower of the sub.”
A slightly hysterical laugh escaped her lips, and she clapped her hand quickly over her mouth.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she managed a nod.
“You know we don’t have to do this – I can send a dozen of my people down with cameras to take as many pictures as you like.”
Straightening her spine, Cassandra took another deep, steadying breath. There was no storm, and this was not a leaky life raft, nor a fragile wooden sailboat. It was a perfectly solid submarine departing from a perfectly solid room with what she was certain was a perfectly competent pilot at the helm. It was time to get back on the horse.
“No. I can do this – I need to do this. Just keep talking to me – I find the sound of your voice cathartic,” she admitted.
He laughed. “That has to be a first – after spending five minutes with me, most people wind up telling me to shut up – even shouting it in some cases.”
“Never,” she promised.
Daniel took possession of her arm, drawing it through his. “Just keep your eyes on me and we’ll go straight to the sub and I’ll hand you down – and I promise to babble as much as you like,” he added with a smile.
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
He tapped the release on the wall, and the massive door made its ponderous way open.
Cassandra looked away from the door, locking her gaze on Daniel’s calm blue eyes.
“So why would your father and mine be such fast chums?” he asked her.
He was walking swiftly in a straight line, and though she could see blue light dancing all around her, she kept her eyes focused on his face.
“They sound like they’re cut from the same cloth,” she said. “Was your father a military man?”
“Down to his spit polished boots. Yours’ as well?”
“Career,” she said. “Navy.”
“Navy?” he whistled. “The reason for your present assignment has just become blindingly apparent – and you’re right – they would get along famously.”
“Can you imagine being an Admiral in the United States Navy whose only daughter reacts to any mention of the ocean with terror, and who has refused to set foot on any type of a boat since she was twelve years old?”
“Can you imagine being the Captain of a military vessel who once had to arrest his own son for trying to stop a Japanese Whaling Ship from their murderous pursuits with only a bullhorn and a rubber dingy?”
“And a lot of nerve,” she added.
He smiled down at her as he took both of her hands, and walked backwards in front of her up a set of stairs which were mercifully opaque. Before she knew it, he had handed her down through the conning tower of the sub, and climbed in after her.
“It appears you’re not doing so bad in the nerve department yourself,” he complimented. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I think so,” she said in amazement.
“Good,” he replied, his smile radiant. He nodded to someone above, and the hatch closed with a hiss and a thud. Still smiling, he took her arm again, and walked her to the forward cabin. It was a small sub, and the only other man present sat behind the controls.
“Cassandra, I’d like you to meet Mark – he’ll be our chauffeur today.”
“Mark,” she acknowledged with a nervous smile.
Daniel directed his gaze to Mark. “This is our guests first ride in a submarine, so be certain to take it easy her.”
“I promise you a smooth ride, Ma’am,” he told her with a grin, his dark eyes sincere.
She was carefully looking at anywhere but out the glass view bubble in front of them. She could do this. This ship after all, was meant to travel beneath the waves.
Daniel escorted her to one of the two seats behind Mark, and helped her strap in, then he took the seat beside her, reaching across the space that separated them to take possession of her hand once again.
“Are we all settled in?” Mark asked, flipping switches on various controls on the panels that surrounded him.
Daniel gave her an expectant look.
“I’m ready,” she told him.
“Then take us down, Mark.”
The sub jerked slightly as she felt something detatch, and her fingers tightened convulsively against Daniel’s, but as they smoothly started to descend, curiosity got the better of her and she leaned a bit forward to gaze out at the world above.
The massive underside of the station looming above them was dotted around its parameter with the bright glow of bubble rooms. Cassandra had expected the bottom of Idrus to appear hard and mechanical, but it didn’t – it was beautiful. The bottom of the city looked like an inverted coral reef, alive with both plant and animal life of all varieties. It was both fascinating and disorienting at the same time – they were moving smoothly down and away from the station into deeper, darker water, but with the city looming above, it appeared that they should have been rising toward the surface, not descending into the depths.
A long chain came into view as Mark veered slightly to the left and started to wind down and around it like it was a spiral stair. As they circled, Cassandra became aware of other similar chains off in the distance.
She looked back to Daniel to ask him what they were, and found that he was watching her, his expression a cross between amusement and concern.
“They’re anchor chains,” he told her. “The entire undersurface of the station is dotted with anchors that descend to the sea bottom to hold the colony in place.”
“Why are we following this one down?” she asked.
“This particular anchor chain is going to lead us right to your debris field,” he told her.
“Personally I find it kind of creepy to be sleeping above a graveyard of ships,” Mark said. “Especially this one.”
“The debris filed is made up of ships?” she asked, looking up at Daniel. “How many?”
“Quite a lot, and from my limited knowledge they appear to be from many different eras.”
She leaned forward again, watching in fascination as they continued to descend, the water growing ever darker around them. She should have been terrified out of her mind with the black deep closing in all around her, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.
Mark flicked a switch, and the subs outer lights popped on, illuminating the dark waters. Fish flitted around the edges of the light, growing larger, and less colorful as they continued their foray into the deep. Once out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glowing off in the distance beyond the reach of their lights, but she lost it in the next turning around the massive chain even though she turned her head this way and that in an attempt to catch sight of it again.
“It was a lantern fish,” Daniel told her. “Those little chaps provide their own glow.”
“It was beautiful,” she said.
“And deadly,” he told her and then he grinned, “if you’re a plankton.”
She laughed. “Good to know at least one thing down here doesn’t want to eat me,” she said. “I feel much safer.”
He squeezed her hand, which he still held. “You are, you know. Mark here is the best driver in the business.”
Mark turned long enough to flash her a wink. “That’s right Ma’am – smoothest ride on the block.”
“It looks so calm,” she said, gazing out at the water.
“It is, he assured her – remember, we’re diving in the doldrums.”
She nodded. “I remember – calm and quiet, and not prone to violent storms.”
He nodded. “That’s correct.”
“But you think the debris field we’re headed to is a graveyard of ships.”
“That’s also correct,” he said.
“Well if this area isn’t prone to violent weather, then what brought down all of the ships that are in your grave yard?” she wondered aloud.
Daniel smiled. “That depends upon who you talk to – I’m afraid this area has something of a Bermuda Triangle like reputation. When the colony first started to develop and grow, I was approached by a Shaman from one of the local tribes.”
“What did he say?” she asked, too fascinated to be frightened.
“He told me these waters were cursed, and I shouldn’t build the colony here.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Cursed?”
He shrugged. “I would think one in your profession would be quite familiar with curses.”
She laughed. “I’ve spent a lot of time digging in Egypt which is absolutely rife with curses and graveyards.”
“And very little water,” he added with an amused glint in his eyes.
“That too,” she agreed with a sheepish smile. “Did the Shaman happen to give you any details about the curse.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry but that was some time ago and I’m afraid I don’t remember. I probably have some notes from the interview back at my office. I can check when we get back if you like.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” she told him.
“You don’t put any stock in this sort of rubbish do you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Sometimes it pays to listen to the details. A superstitious society would view an area where a great deal of accidents had taken placed as cursed, but even if nothing supernatural is involved, the reputation for danger still exists for a reason.”
“So you think there might actually be some sort of danger here?” he asked.
An eerie quavering cry reverberated through the sub, and Cassandra nearly jumped out of her skin.
Daniel threw his head back and laughed. “What timing!”
“What was that?” she asked, her heart slamming in her chest.
“That my Dear Cassandra, is one of the most rare and beautiful sounds in the sea – the cry of a Humpbacked Whale.”
She leaned forward again, craning her neck to see out the front view bubble. “How close is he?”
The song came again, and Daniel cocked his head to listen.
“I’d say he’s somewhere above and to the left of our position. We’re descending right along the outer parameter of the colony, and the whales don’t generally venture beneath the colony.”
“Why?” she asked.
“They don’t like the anchor chains,” he explained. “I think it makes them feel somewhat closed in.”
“I’ve never seen one before,” she said, still craning her neck.
“Very few people have,” he agreed, “and if mankind continues to act like thoughtless louts, one day there won’t be any left to see.”
His brows had drawn into a scowl, his blue eyes suddenly cold and hard, and for the first time since she’d met him, Cassandra could imagine him taking on a whaling ship with only a bullhorn, a dingy and his iron resolve.
The whale song sounded again, but further away this time.
He caught her looking at him, and his expression immediately softened.
“I’ll climb off my soapbox,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Apparently even the whale doesn’t care to listen to me anymore.”
“I could listen to you all day.” She shook her head. “You don’t know how nice it is to meet a man who cares about more than how fast his car is, or who won the last super bowl.”
He laughed again. “I can honestly say I don’t own a car, and I’ve never even seen a superbowl – I fear after growing up with rugby, I find your American Football a little too tame for my tastes.”
It was her turn to laugh. “If that’s your way of saying its boring, I couldn’t agree more.”
“Now baseball,” he said, “is another matter entirely.”
By the sparkle in his eyes, she thought he was enjoying their banter, even though she suspected the attention he was paying her was mostly to distract her from the thought of being beneath all of that water, whatever his reasons, it was certainly working. She would find Daniel Alcott distracting just about anywhere.
He was not at all what she expected. Yes, he was passionate about what he believed in, but he certainly wasn’t the fanatic the news media had made him out to be. From everything she’d seen, he was a kind, descent man. When he’d discovered her little phobia, he could have been angry – he could have packed her off to the mainland and demanded the museum send out a more reliable archeologist, but she sincerely doubted the thought had ever entered his mind. Instead, he had immediately offered her his help, his friendship, and his compassion.
“Sir, we’re coming up on the sight,” Mark said.
She pulled her gaze from Daniel’s with a great deal of difficulty and looked back out at the dark waters beyond the glass.
“Very good, Mark. Why don’t you take us into the area where we recovered the chest.”
With a nod, Mark adjusted the controls, and their path curved slightly to the left.
The lights from the sub raked across the sandy sea floor and shapes started to loom up out of the shadows.
Daniel released his hold on her hand to point. “The degree of preservation on these ships is remarkable. When they brought back the first images, I thought they were having a bit of fun with me – I had to come down and see it for myself before I would believe it.”
She leaned forward even more eagerly now, her gaze locked on the nearest of the looming shapes. Finally the subs lights touched on the majestic prow of a wooden boat curving gracefully up from the sea floor. Cassandra’s mouth fell open.
“Judging by the design of the boat, I’d say it was sixteenth century Portuguese,” she said, “ but it looks like it’s been down here less than a year.”
“It’s good to know I’m not crazy,” Daniel said with a grin.
“But how can this be possible? That ship has been down here for centuries – it should have decayed and fallen to pieces.” She shook her head. “At the very least it should be covered with marine growth, or half buried beneath silt.”
“And yet it’s pristine,” he said, gazing out at the ship.
Marc took the sub for a slow turn around the perfectly preserved ship as she gazed on in disbelief.
“Did you figure out what brought it down?” she asked.
“That’s another of our enchanting little mysteries,” he told her. “Some of the ships in our little graveyard have obvious reasons for their demise, such as gaping holes, or split hulls. But others of them, like this one, are merely resting upon the bottom as if gently placed there by a giant’s hand when he was through playing with a toy ship.”
Mark spiraled the sub away from the Portuguese wreck and off to their left where a smaller craft came into view.
Daniel leaned closer to her as they came around the side. “This one looks like a giant poked his fist through its side,” he remarked. “Do you see it there?”
Her gaze followed his pointing hand to where an enormous gaping hole had blown through the side of little wooden craft, but even though the ship was severely damaged, it certainly didn’t look like it had been beneath the sea for hundreds of years. The design of the ship before her marked it as Dutch, but others that she could see had Spanish lines, or English.
Mark moved away from the broken ship toward a smaller one that was slightly to their left. This one looked old – far more ancient than the others. Egyptian? Roman? When she thought of the history that could be contained within the hulls of all of these ships she got a bit dizzy. This place was a treasure trove that any archeologist would give his favorite tool kit to explore, so why did she feel so uneasy?
Because it was unnatural, her little voice warned. It was unnatural for these perfectly preserved ancient ships to be sitting on the bottom of the ocean as if they had been placed there last week. It was unnatural that so many ships had sunk in this unlikely spot in the first place in a sea noted for its calm waters and suspiciously lacking in the coral reefs, violent storms or sandbars that usually led to ship graveyards. What could have caused this? And more importantly what was preserving it so perfectly.
She felt suddenly cold and a shiver coursed through her body.
Daniel looked at her in concern. “Cassandra?”
“This is impossible,” she said softly.
He frowned. “I thought so as well, but I was certain you were going to tell me that it all had to do with pressure, or salt content, or something of the like.”
She raised her hand weakly to gesture out the window and realized that it was shaking. “I know of nothing that could account for this.”
His frown deepening, Daniel reached for her trembling fingers, closing them tightly in his. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to upset you.”
She did her best to shake the feeling off – she was acting like an idiot. “I’m fine,” she told him,” squeezing his fingers. His expression was still dubious. “Really,” she assured him. “It’s just so strange. I’ve never . . .”
Cassandra’s gaze was drawn to his shirt pocket where she could see something move slightly beneath the fabric. With a start, Daniel released her hand and reached quickly into the offending pocket where he drew out the odd little key they had been examining earlier and held it by its leather cord.
They both watched with wide eyes as the key upon its cord pulled outward and to the left until the cord was nearly horizontal.
Mark, unaware of what was happening, veered to the left around one of the wrecked ships, and the key on its cord changed directions until it now pointed forward.
“What the bloody hell?” Daniel whispered.
“Are we carrying something magnetic?” she asked, although she wasn’t even certain that the key would react to a magnet, because she had no idea what it was made of, but her mind was grasping desperately for logical explanations.
“No,” he said.
She watched as he wadded the cord up in his hand, and then unfurled it again. It snapped immediately forward again, and even seemed to pull against his fingers.
“Mark, turn us a round,” he instructed.
Mark did as he was asked, turning the sub back the way they had come. As they rotated around the clock, they key rotated as well, until it was now pointing directly behind them instead of ahead.
“Turn us again,” Daniel said, sounding more fascinated than frightened.
Mark obeyed, and the key rotated back to twelve as the sub changed direction.
Daniel tore his gaze from the key to look up at her, his blue eyes alight with curiosity. “I believe it’s trying to tell us something. Shall we follow?”
Though she was torn, she nodded. Something felt very wrong about this place, and about that key, but curiosity had always been one of her failings.
Smiling, Daniel turned to Mark, who was eyeing the lively key with a grin of his own.
“Mark – follow that key.”
Mark wound the sub past pristine wrecks that could no longer hold Cassandra’s attention. Her eyes were only for the key as it tilted this way and that, Mark always bringing it back to front and center. They followed it into the heart of the debris field where the concentration of sunken vessels seemed to be the greatest, and from what she could tell by her furtive glances away from the key, the oldest. The concentration of the debris became so great that Mark had to rise above the field to stay on track. Then the key in Daniel’s hand slowly started to change direction until it once again dangled.
“Stop!” both she and Daniel shouted in unison, and Mark’s hands jerked off the controls as if stung.
Daniel released his seatbelt and stood, leaning forward to look out the front window. After a moments pause, Cassandra did the same.
“Do you see anything ?” she asked.
Daniel shook his head. “The sub is kicking up too much sand.”
“I could sit us down,” Mark offered.
“Where?” Cassandra asked. The debris was very concentrated here – perhaps the ships had been drawn to this same point as something had drawn the key – but what could draw both wood and metal?
Mark pointed beneath them. “The deck of that ship looks solid enough.”
Cassandra followed his pointing finger. Ordinarily she would have disagreed with him – an ordinary ancient wreck would never have been able to support the weight of a sub, not even one as small as this one, but these wrecks were far from ordinary.
Daniel looked to her, and she nodded. “We can try it, but if you feel the slightest bit of give,” she warned him.
“I’ll have us up before you can blink,” he promised her.
Mark maneuvered the sub with expert hands, and they touched down on the wooden deck as delicately as sparrow. The cabin was perfectly quiet, and Cassandra realized they were all holding their breath, waiting for something to snap, but the deck held.
Mark turned to her with a grin. “Told you so.”
She smiled in return. “So you did.”
They all looked out eagerly as the sand disturbed by their passage started to settle to the ground in soft waves. An open space was becoming visible at the center of the debris field, and the key in Daniel’s hand was pointing right to it.
At the center of the circle, Cassandra could see their lights glinting off something, and she leaned further forward. When the last grain of sand had settled, a shining, obsidian chest was revealed – one as untouched by the ravages of time, and emersion beneath the sea as the ships around it.
“What is that thing?” Mark asked, and his tone held a strange degree of revulsion.
Cassandra looked down at the top of his head – she hadn’t realized she’d been leaning so far forward, and pulled back a few degrees.
“It could be a burial chest,” she said thoughtfully.
“Do you think you can you reach it from here with the arm, Mark?” Daniel asked.
Mark turned back to look at him in dismay. “You want to bring it up now?”
Daniel looked down at him, and the men caught gazes. “What’s the matter?”
“That thing is just sitting there in the middle of all this destruction like a spider at the middle of its web. I don’t know – it just kind of gives me the creeps.”
Daniel laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I told you to stop watching all of those horror movies.”
Cassandra looked back out at the dark water and the glinting box and felt a little flutter in her chest. There was something rather sinister about it – just sitting there – untouched amid all of the chaos.
“It’s a simple matter of your imagination running away with you,” Daniel said.
Mark’s shoulders hunched a bit – he looked far less than convinced to her eyes.
“Tell him, Cassandra?” Daniel requested, shifting his focus to her.
When she looked up at Daniel, she realized how close they were standing to one another. They were both leaning toward Mark, and the motion brought her face to within inches of his in the cramped confines of the sub. Suddenly she found that all thoughts of danger had slipped away. She stared mesmerized into Daniel’s blue eyes for a moment before she got a hold of herself, and straightened, pulling back. She saw a glint of amusement light his gaze as she did.
“Right – nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a box,” she told Mark, not nearly as certain of that fact as her words might imply. But what else could it be? There were many stories of ancient objects reputed to hold unbelievable power, and she had always fantasized about finding one of those objects and being the one to prove a legend true, but deep down to the core of her being, she didn’t want this object to be one of those.
“The ark of the covenant was just a box too,” Mark murmured, “and you know what happened to the people who messed with it.”
She laid her hand on his shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, I promise not to open it until we figure out what it is.”
Mark looked up at her, his gaze skeptical. “I know you archeologist types – that’s like giving a box of cookies to a four year old and telling them they can’t have any until they learn to read to box.”
It was her turn to laugh – his description was pretty apt. “I’ll be good,” she told him. “I’d be very surprised if there wasn’t writing of some type on the outside of the box, and I promise not to open it until I’ve deciphered every last word – no matter how tempting it might be.”
“You promise?” he asked.
She nodded, laying her hand over her heart. “You have my word.”
“Okay then. I think I can get it from here.” Mark turned back to the controls, and adjusted several of them before he reached for an odd looking glove that was hardwired into a control grid to his left.
“It’s liable to be very delicate,” she cautioned. “I can’t be certain, but from here it looks to be made of onyx, or obsidian.
Mark pulled his hand into the glove and flexed his fingers. “Don’t worry – with this, I could pick up a nest full of hummingbird eggs without crushing a single one.”
Daniel nodded. “He’s right. The arm on the sub was developed to do delicate underwater repair work on the colony’s systems. It functions just like an extension of the operators hand, and with the same delicacy of touch.”
She turned her attention back to Mark as he extended his arm, and in the water before them, a long telescoping arm appeared, and started to unfurl itself toward the chest.
“Is it going to be long enough to reach from here?” she asked.
“It’s on the edge of my reach, but I should be able to get it.”
She found herself leaning forward again, and Daniel did the same, their shoulders brushing together. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and saw the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. He was enjoying this, and after being cooped up on the colony for who knew how long, she couldn’t blame him. It was like he was off on one of his adventures again, she supposed, although being trapped in the middle of the ocean with a hydrophobic couldn’t be very much fun on his part, she mused. Having to play nursemaid to a crazy woman wasn’t something most men would find enjoyable – although with all interesting distractions she’d had on the dive, she’d almost managed to forget where they were.
With a subtle movement of Mark’s wrist, the arm stopped telescoping to hover in the water over the chest. He opened his fingers, and the fingers of the hand at the end of the telescoping arm opened as well. He lowered his wrist, and the hand came to rest upon the chest. Then he closed his fingers, and the hand closed around the chest. Mark lifted his wrist slightly, and then pulled his elbow back, and the telescoping arm started to gather itself in, bringing the chest with it.
“Good catch,” Daniel compliment him, standing from his crouch. “Secure it in the hold, and then lift us off.” He glanced at her. “I think we’ve had enough underwater fun for one day. We’ll take a look at it when we get back topside.”
She stood as well. He was worried about her. Oddly, that thought made her own fear somehow easier to control as trying to think of ways to calm his worry kept her from thinking about her own.
“You could make a fortune selling these subs to underwater excavators – I’ve never seen a mechanical implement capable of such a delicacy of touch,” she said – it was the best she could come up with.
He smiled at her. “I’ve always been too busy trying to save the future to think too
much about trying to help save the past, but of late, I do believe I’ve caught the archeology bug.”
She smiled. “It is highly contagious. I got bitten when I was eight – my Father bought me a book on King Tut’s Tomb for my birthday. When did it hit you?”
He glanced casually down at his watch, and then looked up into her eyes. “About eight hours ago.”
She felt the blood rush into her cheeks. She’d arrived at Idrus about eight hours ago.
Blue eyes sparkling, he reached out and took her hand again, drawing it to his lips for a kiss. “Apparently it’s a very fast acting contagion.”
She’d called him charming upon their first meeting, but charming was a woefully inadequate understatement where Daniel Alcott was concerned she decided.
Cassandra felt the sub shift as they smoothly lifted off, but then the deck pitched beneath her feet, throwing her forward into Daniel’s arms. He caught her easily, steadying them both against the wall behind his back.
“Sorry about that, Boss,” Mark said, a touch of laughter in his voice, “that mast caught me by surprise.”
Cassandra was still off balance, leaning forward with all of her weight against Daniel’s body. Her arms had gone automatically up around his neck, and his were securely wrapped around her back – their faces again just inches apart. There was laughter in his blue eyes, but also something deeper. Attraction smoldered between them like a tangible flame, but it was more than that – it was a feeling of belonging – of fitting together like two pieces of the same puzzle. She wondered if he felt it too, or if all of this water had finally made her mind snap.
“That’s all right, Mark,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her’s. “I don’t mind.”
She was almost sorry when he pushed off the wall and set her back on her feet. “Perhaps we’d better sit down,” he suggested mildly. “Mark appears to be under the impression that this is the Indianapolis 500.”
She resumed her seat, and Daniel reached over to fasten her securely in before he took his own.
“Just eager to get the lady back topside, Boss,” he said, and Cassandra could hear the grin in his voice.
They were already speeding away from the sight as if they had the devil on their tail, and Cassandra suspected it had very little to do with her. Even though she didn’t know him very well, she could easily tell that Mark was not comfortable having that box on board. She shot a quick glance Daniel’s way. He looked perfectly at ease – even happy. What did Mark sense from the chest that Daniel did not? She shook the silly thought away. It was just a box. She’d opened dozens of tombs without the slightest qualm or fear. Why was this little box making her feel so uneasy? And if she was being honest with herself – it had made her uneasy.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Daniel asked. “Or at least I believe that’s the American expression.
She smiled. “I was just thinking about our little discovery, and Pandora came suddenly to mind.”
He laughed. “Ah yes, Pandora and her box. Are you trying to tell me you have a problem with bad luck?” he asked.
“Somethimes,” she admitted, “but not lately.”
No sooner than the words left her mouth, the lights inside the sub flickered and died, and the whine of the engines ceased. She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt the craft stutter to a halt, and then start to sink. Emergency lights flickered weakly to life, giving them at least some illumination. She was grateful for that – grateful for anything but the darkness.
Daniel’s eyes immediately snapped to Mark. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” Mark said, sounding perplexed.
Daniel reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll have it fixed in a moment.”
He unfastened his restraints, and went to lean over Mark’s shoulder again.
Mark was furiously flipping buttons and checking and rechecking systems. Cassandra saw one of the anchor chains drift by just outside the window, and Daniel’s head snapped up.
“Do you still have power to the arm?” He asked.
Mark thrust his hand into the glove, and extended his arm, but nothing happened.
“Well, it was worth a try,” Daniel murmured.
Cassandra gripped the arms of her chair as the sub continued to sink back toward the debris field below. Would the sea have its way with her after all? Her knuckles became white on the arms of her chair. Had her Mother’s sacrifice only granted her a short reprieve from her watery fate? She closed her eyes, in danger of losing control if she continued along this train of thought, but then snapped them open again, as the darkness behind her own eyelids became too much bear.
She focused her gaze on Daniel’s profile as he leaned forward to tap at the unresponsive controls over Mark’s shoulder.
And then he turned to look at her, and she fell into the calm depths of his blue eyes.