Sounding Harbor Bottom

Sounding Harbor Bottom:

This is for the Legends' Day story event.

"How are your modifications coming along?" I asked as I walked into Gisela's workshop. Technically, it was the ship's workshop, but everyone, even the Captain, acknowledged her domain. The Brazilian woman bent over her work, long, delicate fingers aligning the scanning matrix of the drone mother. The other drones lay nearby on other surfaces until loaded into the larger machine's belly.

"Just about done," Gisela responded. "Daisy, how about it?"

"Initializing new fine-tuning parameters," Gisela's AI assistant spoke up. "Here we go." The soft mechanical sounds of the multiple scanners aligning whispered in the workshop. After a short pause, the process repeated with the smaller drones.

"All done," Gisela and Daisy said in one voice. "She is ready to fly. I heard that in a movie once."

I helped Gisela load the slave drones into the underbelly and then the drone mother onto the sled to lower it into the ocean for its purpose: the search for the Khora Daine. After a bet between billionaires, the sole woman in that group converted the tramp steamer into a luxury vehicle. The ship once carried the name Aoki Maru, but that was before the Japanese owner sold it, and the project significantly altered its appearance and function. Rumors abounded around Irene Watts and her occult practices and links to secret societies, pure conspiracy theory gold.

Sounds from the real world snapped me out of my reverie. The robotic arm swung into place, and Gisela and I fitted the straps into place, and, with many holding their breath, we lifted the mother drone up and over the railing and into the water.

"I synced with the drone," Daisy announced. "I will launch the babies and perform search pattern Alpha."

"Now we watch and wait," I said. "How long do you think it will take?"

"This is the seventh attempt to locate her," Captain Leonardo Caracciolo said. " You are the historian, Kenji; what do you think our odds are?"

The Captain was a tall, weathered Italian with a light accent when he spoke English and with the beginnings of grey hair beginning to highlight his jet-black hair and olive complexion. I shrugged but figured it would be weeks before we found anything if our luck held out. This was the beginning of settling into a wake-and-sleep routine. To pass the time, I read the logs of the previous missions while Gisela worked on and perfected a waterproof recharging station for the drones. It would reduce the downtime and chance of damaging the mother drone by lifting it out of and returning it to the sea. The first two weeks passed quietly and gave me time to catch up on my reading while Gisela disappeared for nearly a week every morning and only returned after sunset. Then she slipped into my bathroom and started a shower, which went on for longer than the five minutes allowed by the Captain. Twenty minutes later, Gisela appeared.

"I tweaked the ship's desalination plant so I can shower more often and longer," Gisela said as she strode out of my bathroom, wearing only a smile. "Did you uncover any clues to the last resting place yet?"

"No, but there are some creepy hints of a connection between the billionaire Irene Watts and HOST, the Hermetic Order of the Silver Twilight. One of the previous researchers found a link between Watts' payments and matching entries into sketchy business dealings. You are making it hard to concentrate."

"Want to dry my back," Gisela asked. "It isn't like you will get more work done today."

"You won't let me, will you?" I asked as I accepted the towel to dry her off.

"Not a chance in hell," Gisela purred. "Take your time, or I will become quite cross with you." As I leisurely moved the cloth over her dusky skin, she continued to speak. "Do you remember the first time we hooked up?"

"The bathroom stall at the Black Thorn pub," I said as I knelt to get to some hard-to-reach spots. "You were shit-faced and accepted that dare from your redheaded friend; what's her name?"

"Her name is Jennifer," Gisela whimpered. "And don't pull that 'what's her name' bullshit with me. She still has your number in her phone."

"Does she," I laughed. "I wonder how she got it?" I said as I cupped my hand and slapped her bare ass cheek. The resounding crack echoed and forced a delicious yelp from Gisela. "Turn around, please."

"Has anyone seen Gisela?" The voice of the communication officer came through one of the open windows. "Ha! I fucking knew it," Zelda declared. "I knew he was fucking you."

"What is it, Princess?" Gisela asked, frowning. "This had better be important."

"We got a signal," Zelda fired back. "A solid metallic source about a hundred meters down, right on the edge of a dropoff." Yvonne Blackmoor, aka Zelda, because of her golden hair, blue eyes, slightly pointed ears, and boisterous nature, was practically bouncing in place. "The Captain wants you in the control room ASAP."

Gisela snatched the towel from me and finished drying off. She dressed in clean coveralls, and we raced out to the upper deck. Gisela touched a spot just below her left ear, triggering her BMI or Brain Machine Interface. The link she shared with Daisy allowed her to project the drone's live feed onto her optic nerve.

"Well?" I asked. Gisela closed her eyes and gestured, which allowed her to control the multiple feeds.

"It fits the bill," Gisela said. "I've pulled up the modified blueprints and compared the ass end of the ship with those schematics. The ocean floor covers the nameplate and buries it; raising the wreck will require serious maneuvering. I am having Daisy scan downhill to see how stable the wreck is, and one drone is seeing how deep it goes."

"Great," the Captain muttered. "Let's take a look at the drone feed and brainstorm."

The main crew included engineers, historians, scientists, and one priest. The holographic display showed the recording of the wreck filmed by the mother drone. Other panels appeared as the feed from the other drones filtered in. The one I focused on was the solitary drone measuring the depth of the space below the shelf the ship sat precariously upon. I tapped into the drone and ordered it to switch from standard LED lights to full spectrum. If there were any predators at that depth, there was no reason to alert them to our presence. While the device was armored and protected against the pressures of the depths, why invite unexpected disaster? I had the drone send out a series of pings meant to map the area in front of it, and nothing interesting but a single outcropping of rock jutting from the ocean floor.

"What is that?" I asked aloud, and the drone's AI detected my curiosity and narrowed its senses to analyze the protrusion. "That is too regular. Can you see this?"

"It is on the main monitor," the Captain said. "It looks like a Grecian pillar; those grooves at the end look Corinthian, but I can't be sure. Could there be a temple out here?"

"Maybe someone stole the pillar, and the ship went down in a storm?" One of the other historians offered as a possibility.

"It makes as much sense as any," I said.

"First things first," the Captain said. "We raise the ship, pillar second. Engineers get to work; I want to see that beauty kissed by the sun and sky. My career reaches its peak when we succeed. Show me what you got and impress me."

No one left the briefing but instead broke into groups, with Gisela leading the engineers. The two other historians walked over towards me, and I saw it momentarily as I looked past them. The solitary priest was checking out Gisela's ass as she bent over and thrust out her butt out of habit. Granted, it was an ass of epic proportions and good enough to tempt a man of the cloth. The priest's eye moved and locked with mine. He blushed and ran out to the deck with a poor excuse on his lips.

"I have to get some air," the priest said, and I couldn't help but laugh. Gisela looked over her shoulder at me and then glanced at her butt.

"Perv," she said, and I shook my head. It only took her a few seconds to figure it out. "Oh! I need to add temptation to the skills on my resume."

Gisela returned to the brainstorming session. I explained what had happened to my colleagues, and they enjoyed the moment. Before leaving port, we had agreed that we wouldn't share notes until we found the ship. The reason was simple: one, it gave us time to develop a precise and efficient delivery for the others; the second was enthusiasm for when the moment of discovery occurred. My stomach growled, and we moved to the mess hall to munch and talk about the back story of the Khora Dhaine. Ken Sato, the lead Cook, approached us smiling brilliantly.

"What can I get you fine folks?" Sato asked.

We made our orders, and he gleefully returned to the kitchen, and soon, the smell of cooking bacon wafted into the cafeteria. Gisela fired off a text message to me, filling me in their attack plan.

Gisela refitted the drones with blowers that would remove loose soil from the wreck. It meant more recharge times but less time for divers to be in the water. Once the ship was uncovered and identified, we could tell the world we found it. It was a matter of patience as the drones did their work and revealed more of the vessel. Using the blueprints as a guide, we hunted for the nameplate on the side of the ship facing upwards. It took three days to find it, but when the soil settled and the water cleared, there it was the name Khora Dhaine. The cheers were deafening, and the word went out we had discovered the Khora Dhaine. The hard part began, finishing uncovering the ship and plotting how to raise the lady to the surface. They needed to find out why the modified trawler sank and once the damage was isolated and repaired. The AI and her drones would take time to reveal the nearly two-hundred-foot vessel. Had they struck an underwater obstruction? It couldn't have been bad weather since we had satellite images of the area, and it had been clear sailing.

"Bring the drone in closer," the Captain said. "What the hell? Do you see that?"

"See what?" I asked, but it was Gisela who exclaimed.

"Son of a bitch," she said. "How?" I looked from the hologram to the Captain and then Gisela.

"What am I missing?" I asked.

"How long has the Khora Dhaine been sunk?" The Captain asked.

That's when it hit me. After eighty years of exposure to pressure, salt water, and other elements, the metal and nameplate were untouched. The ship looked like it had sunk yesterday. We needed a hull sample, but the Captain was ahead of me.

"Gisela, have the drone take a sample of the hull. We need an analysis of that metal," he ordered.

"You read my thoughts," Gisela giggled. "Let's pick a spot that won't make an impact."

We watched as the drone moved away from the nameplate and chose another undamaged part of the ship to cut a sample for retrieval.

"Have you ever looked at the name Khora Dhaine and its origins?" Isabella Garcia, one of the two other historians, asked. "It is dark, I mean obsidian-level black. It is mostly legend and unprovable, but interesting. Have you ever heard about the link between Loki and the original vampire legend? I ran across it for the first time a few years back, but it centered around a trickster god, no name, just the story of it, and thirteen magicians who made a pact for immortality."

"Vampirism," I said, and she nodded.

"The interesting thing was how the mage's strengths became their weaknesses. The earth wizard required his native soil when he moved to a new country. The water mage couldn't cross running water without help. Have you seen a pattern yet? Authors picked up on these fables and added them to their stories. There was one exception to the thirteen: the sun mage was the only bloodline immune to sunlight, the origin of the daywalker legend."

"How does this connect to the name," Theodore O'Connor, the elderly Irish historian, asked. "Oh, how silly of me; she was one of the thirteen."

"She has the title of Sunborn," Isabella said. "Your turn."

"Irene Watts may have ties to HOST," I added and watched their reactions.

"Huzzah," Theodore declared. "That fills in a blank spot in my research. Have any of you ever heard the rumors of an organization known as the Order? I believe HOST has connections to an older and more powerful group. This will sound crazy and like a conspiracy theory, but I think they exist."

There was that awkward silence, and I almost told the others about the book given to me dockside just before the ship launched. We continued sharing stories, but nothing as explosive as mentioning the mysterious Order or the Loki legend. I felt like the weak one as things progressed. We spoke as we ate, often chewing and speaking simultaneously. Theodore broke out his supply of Guinness, a dark Irish beer, to celebrate our discovery and sharing of information.

"You are a million miles away," Isabella said, snapping me out of my reverie. "What's on your mind?"

"I know that look," Theodore laughed. "What are you hiding?"

"I was given a leather-bound book at the dock just before we set sail. It could be a journal or a work of lore. I promised not to read it until we found the Khora Dhaine. I haven't looked at it yet, and the silk she wrapped it in is still around the book."

"Spooky," Isabella said. "Are you going to share?"

"Aw, come on," Theodore urged. "You'd have three pairs of eyes on it to appraise its value."

"Fine," I laughed. "You win."

Gisela and the other engineers worked long hours using a holographic version of the sunken wreck. They pointed out critical points that had to be supported, or else the vessel's weight would tear itself apart on the way up. Meanwhile, the historians met in my private stateroom and huddled around the table. I set the silk-bound book in the middle and nervously breathed.

"Do not read this unless you find the Khora Dhaine, the woman had said. Promise me, and I did. Here we go."

I unwrapped the silk and looked at the book held shut by a silver button attached to the front and a thick cord wrapped around the button. I unwound the cord that held the cover in place. The strange leather had an odd burnt smell without any hint of damage anywhere. Maybe it had survived a fire and baked by smoke, but the book remained untouched. Theodore and Isabella sniffed the air and wrinkled their noses.

"It smells burnt," Theodore said as I lifted the book and looked over the exterior.

"No signs of damage," Isabella said. "Weird. It must have been in a fire, but far enough not physically to harm it." I touched my nose and nodded. "We are on the same page then; let's take a peek."

Theodore and Isabella shifted their chairs next to mine, putting me in the middle. Theodore handed the book back, and I set it down, opened it, and flipped the pages until the first page with writing appeared. We shared a look, and I continued further, and our curiosity deepened with each page exposed. The author had written the entire text in an unfamiliar alphabet. I touched my interface, activated my BMI, and woke the small drone that rested on its recharge station. It rose on a column of air, hovered over to the table, and settled above my right shoulder. It scanned each page as I turned them, beeping when it was ready for the following information block. It took a few minutes to reach the final page and allow the AI to delve into the tremendous archive it had access to and translate. While that occurred, I returned to pages that contained drawings of an occult nature. If I wanted to write my version of the fabled Necronomicon, these illustrations would be key to its success.

"Sumerian," Isabella said, pointing to a single glyph on the corner of a page holding a ritual that involved disemboweling the sacrificial victim. "It means to open."

"That one appears to be proto-indo-european," Theodore offered. "It is similar to one that means soul or spirit."

I scanned the page, but nothing familiar jumped out. "There is one thing, though: the drawing looks medically accurate. Sapphire can cross reference the drawings and medical journals. That is some grim shit, though."

There were magical circles, ceremonies, and even pressure point diagrams. I let Sapphire, my AI assistant, share the book's contents with Isabella and Theodore. It would take all three of us to crack the alien alphabet, and maybe the drawings would give us the Rosetta stone we needed. I tied the manuscript shut again and returned it to the silk before placing it in the ship's safe for security reasons. I had caught the priest spying on that first meeting, and it wasn't voyeuristic but something else.

"Father?" I said as I approached him from behind, which caused him to falter and stumble backward. "Care to explain yourself?"

"I don't know what you mean," he stammered. I pointed to one of the ship's many security cameras. "Oh, no, I have no words for you."

"Then I will go to the captain and see about your behavior," I said.

"Wait," the priest cried out. "I don't want any trouble. I was curious about the text."

"Talk," I snapped. "If you are interested, why not approach me directly instead of skulking around?"

"I was ordered not to," he said. "I have orders to watch but not interfere."

"Explain," I said as Isabella and Theodore appeared. The priest unbuttoned his shirt, reached inside, and took out a piece of folded parchment with a broken wax seal.

"Is that a papal seal," Theodore asked, and the priest nodded. "That is serious. Rome must have known that the book might end up in our possession."

"If the Pope sent him, what the hell have we gotten ourselves into?" Isabella asked and examined the document. She unfolded the paper and read the handwritten Order. "Holy fucking shit, he carries the power of the church while on board the ship. If the book is discovered and decoded, he must report to Rome, and they will do whatever is necessary." Isabella shivered and looked at the priest. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"As God is my witness, I don't know," he said. "I am only a soldier of Christ."

"Only?" Theodore said, clearly disgusted. "Throw him overboard now."

"No," I snapped, surprising myself and the others. "We aren't murderers. Father," I said, using a softer tone now. "Listen, we need more for you to earn our trust. What do you think Rome will do if we translate the text?"

"Since I have already failed to observe unseen, I see no harm in telling you. The church excommunicated me; this mission was my chance for forgiveness and returning to the fold."

"Well, that explains you checking out her ass," I laughed. "I caught the man of the cloth staring at Gisela's butt."

"I am only human," the priest said, and a part of me latched onto something in his voice. Why would he lie about that? Was he ex-military and didn't see himself as human any longer? War did that to people. "The tome is called the Malcontentus and one of only a handful of copies known to exist."

"That jives with the drawings," Isabella said. "Any idea of how to decode the text?"

"No, that wasn't part of my mission," he said. "If there aren't any more questions for now. I will retire to my room."

"Let's call it a night," I suggested, and the others agreed. "We'll continue our work tomorrow."

I returned to my room and spied the X on the floor at the foot of my bed. Someone had used black electrical tape, and at the top of the X was a smaller arrow pointing away from the bed. I walked over and stood on the mark, and looked around. She came out of the darkness with arms outstretched, naked, and struck me with enough force to drive me backward and onto the mattress.

"Oof," I gasped just before Gisela's lips met mine. "Mmm."

She helped me undress without breaking the kiss for as long as possible. My shirt was the last thing to go. Gisela pressed against me and moaned into my mouth as she renewed the kiss. My hands cupped her cheeks, and the moan grew louder and more intent as she ground harder.