< tense silence as people crowd around the monitors>

…?

Difficult to say for certain. However… zoom in there. Note the pattern in the carbon scoring. The blast marks are all over the place, particularly centered around the landing pod. But they seem to be limited to at least five meters high along the trunks and into the canopy, as if he were firing randomly into the air.

Looks to me like young Oscar was interrupted in his investigations by the local nocturnal fauna. Damned fool. If he’d bothered watching any of the footage, he’d have seen how aggressive they can be around this island. I dare say he looked quite the succulent morsel to have attracted so much attention.

I hope all of you learn from this. Never wander into the territory of swarming airborne carnivores when they’re three times your own size. Let the robots do the exploring. That’s what they’re for.

…

No, I don’t see any sign of his body. Or the Transport. Whatever happened, he must have survived and moved on.

…?

Hmm? What about the landing pod? There’s no indications of remaining power. From the looks of it, I’d assume it’s been disabled.

…?

‘How?’ How should I know? Termites? Do I look like an engineer?

Frankly speaking, we’re bloody lucky the thing worked even as long as it did… cheap as it was. And even luckier it broke down on its own. That is a launch-capable vehicle with a full—if primitive—cryostasis travel mode that had been programmed to find and land near the subjects every 12-hours. I grant you, the likelihood of either of them figuring out its function well enough to actually make use of those features was remote, but with a pair of military-grade VENUS devices on the table, we cannot discount the possibility of future technological adaptations.

After all, that was the original reason behind its development.

Actually, now that we’re on the topic, let’s send the probe to check on the second pod. If it’s still working, we’ll need to disable it, as well. I don’t doubt Oscar will have headed there next, anyway.

…?

Access panel? What about it?

< Camera focuses on one side of the pod where an access panel lies open, exposing a tangle of wiring within. Several screws lie discarded in the moss nearby. >

…!

Well, I er… How interesting! Perhaps… young Oscar had the presence of mind to disable the pod before he—I say! Look there. Is that blood?

*

Naomi held perfectly still, trying to keep the tension out of her shoulders. She needed to stay loose. And vigilant. The slightest of movements had the potential to frighten away their prey before she even caught sight of it but, as the minutes ticked away into their dozens, she could feel her joints starting to lock up.

Even so, she resisted the urge to shake them out. She was just glad they were doing this underwater. Without the added buoyancy to support her arms, there would have been no attempting this at all.

The light at her wrist flickered again.

Blink.

Blink blink blink.

Blink blink.

Blink.

The dull red of it pulsed softly out and into the pitch darkness, each flash seemingly random in duration, but it revealed nothing. Nothing save the muted gleam of her own outstretched claws.

Mike had said this was a strategy used by angler fish—some sort of deep sea creature with a glowing bulb at the end of an antenna growing from the center of its forehead. It sounded ridiculous, but supposedly the phosphorescent glow would attract other fish close to investigate—perhaps thinking it was food—after which the angler would snatch them up. But with the way she was cupping her hands, she felt more like a Venus flytrap.

If only she could be sure this was working. Not being able to see down here was maddening. As it was, she could not even prepare herself for something even approaching them. The fish would have to be practically between her claws before she could react.

Blink. Blink blink.

She tensed again, then grimaced. Still nothing.

Fishing was boring, she decided. She could not move. Could not breathe even to sigh with frustration. There were no conspiracy podcasts to listen to nor ex-CIA operative tell-alls to read. She could not even engage in her newfound hobby.

Namely, teasing Mike. If there were just some way she could… casually slip a breast into his palm. But make it look like an accident? Or better yet, his fault? Oh, that would be perfect! She could just imagine the look on his face. The panic. The confusion.

The elation privately lighting up his eyes.

Of course, there was always the—admittedly remote—possibility of him actually acting on that elation. Which would also be fun.

More than fun. In fact, she was positively aching to explore that eventuality, but her Mike was far too timid take the reins. Not unless she directly placed them in his hands, anyway. Until then, she would have to make do with her games of dangling them just out of his reach and the occasional fantasy of the day he finally snatched them from her grasp.

Blink blink. Blink blink blink.

Still nothing.

She rolled her eyes. This was no way to hunt. She would much rather be out on the open plains somewhere, chasing down antelope like the lioness she was. Glorying in the kill. Fresh blood dripping from her claws. Not waiting in ambush like some… some bottom-dwelling… mutant!

Of course, she understood on an intellectual level that lions were hardly adverse to ambushing prey. Such tactics made complete sense. The less you needed to run in order to take down your meal, the fewer calories you expended. She just did not have the patience for it.

Then again, technically they were omnivores. Maybe they could swim down to the bottom somewhere and root around for something edible? It might have been less satisfying, but it had the potential for more immediate benefits. Who knew? If they ate the right thing, they might even obtain a way of seeing down here… or just something that might get them out of this pit.

Of course, that meant going considerably deeper than they already were, and the pressure at their current depth was plenty uncomfortable as it was. It was kind of weird, though. She would have thought she would have needed to keep swimming downward just to counteract her body’s natural tendency to float, but once you got down far enough, that buoyancy force simply went away. But as far as she could tell, she was not sinking either. For whatever reason.

Blink. Blink blink blink.

And… nothing. Again. Damn it.

Abruptly, one of Mike’s attempts at sonar sounded in her ears, and she had to resist the urge to jump out of her skin. He had been doing that periodically on the premise of alerting her should anything big enough to be dangerous start to approach them—presuming he could detect it, of course—but she felt confident that any truly large predators would be much more likely to hang out in the open ocean. After all, the kinds of animals the two of them might need to worry about would require an appropriate abundance of prey to sustain them. And there sure as hell was no abundance down here.

However, this time, perhaps half a second after his tock reverberated out into the depths, she noticed a faint flicker of light in response. It seemed… pretty far out. And she could not determine much of anything about whatever it had been save a vague impression of blueness. Still… her burgeoning predatory instincts were urging her to investigate in the worst kind of way.

Which in turn triggered a flutter of equally instinctual caution. After all, if she could lure in unsuspecting victims, something else might have gotten the same idea.

Quickly, she waved a hand over the periodic blinks at her wrist, alerting Mike. She needed to find out if he had seen it, as well.

His hand touched her shoulder. He had gotten her signal.

She turned in place and quickly found his head so as to poke him on either cheek, just under his eyes, twice in rapid succession. According to the rudimentary signs they had worked out before diving down here, that meant she had seen or otherwise detected something. It had to be under his eyes, of course, as they could not see one another. Two taps was a general indication for positives. Once was for negatives.

He tapped her once under her own eyes then dragged a claw up her belly. ‘I didn’t see it. Go up for air/talk?’

The private thrill of his touch upon her unprotected skin—and so close to the bare mounds floating just above his finger—momentarily distracted her from her ultimate aim. It was so tempting to pretend a sudden bout of ticklishness and ‘accidentally’ graze his knuckles. However, she was quick to shake off the urge. Now was not the time.

She poked his chest once. ‘No.’

Then she hesitated. They had not worked out anything regarding his sonar. She would have to improvise.

She tapped his throat twice. And for good measure, she imitated the tocking noise he made. It was nowhere near as loud, but she hoped he would get the idea. Then, another double tap under his eyes.

He did not reply immediately, having to take a moment to understand what she was trying to tell him, but eventually, he tapped the light on her wrist, then at her throat, then again under her eyes. Each twice. ‘Something about her light. Hopefully acknowledging his sonar. Then a positive on the visuals.’

She grimaced. This communication system of theirs was pretty terrible. How did blind, deaf, and mute people do this crap?

However, going on the assumption that he wanted to recreate the conditions of her last sighting, she turned and re-cupped her hands. A moment later, his hand again found her shoulder, this time to stabilize his position next to her.

She could not help but notice how absolutely enormous his hands were. To have him start playing with her body… with those sausages he called fingers? She could just imagine what it might feel like for one of those to slip between her legs.

She bit down on her lower lip slightly, forcibly dismissing the mental image but not in time to suppress the brief shiver that rolled out from her center. Fortunately, Mike did not seem to notice… or if he had, he was not letting on. Right about then, she was not sure which she would have preferred.

Probably the former, she decided. How could she explain away the thrill his every touch was causing her? She was supposed to be making him horny, damn it! Not the other way around!

Besides, those claws of his would absolutely destroy her lady bits! Though… they were kind of blunt…

Another shiver quaked her belly.

Blink blink. Blink blink.

Mike’s tock rolled out into the water an instant later, finally—blessedly—pulling her thoughts away from the maelstrom of debauchery his every touch stirred within her. Soon after, the faint light came again. Was it closer this time? She could not really tell.

With her unlit hand, she reached up to deliver a couple of taps to his fingers. ‘Yes?’

She received two taps in reply. He had seen it.

He pulled himself closer to her side, intent on the quarry before them, unaware of the heat his shifting mass had just caused to swirl about her. She managed to ignore it this time, but only just. If it were not for the possibility of sinking her teeth into some new creature in the near future, she was sure the provocation would have broken whatever fragments of resolve remained to her.

She would get him back for this. Oh, yes. Once they were outside and in some proper light, it would be her life’s goal to make him hard and keep him that way until he finally pushed her down and had his way with her!

Blink. Blink blink.

Tock.

Blue light again. Definitely closer this time.

Her eyes began to shine with anticipation. It was working! Whatever that thing out there was, some combination of the sound and light was drawing it in.

The possibility of a meal was making her salivate… from both ends—likely a Pavlovian response to the raw pleasure that came with every morsel that met her tongue. Not that she needed much help. Mike had already taken care of that in spades just by touching her shoulder, the bastard.

Maybe she could manage a casual graze along his inner thigh with her toe? No. Too obvious.

Blink blink blink. Blink.

Tock.

The blue light responded instantly this time, as if it were directly replying to them. Or the sound waves were hitting it that much sooner.

Mike tapped at her shoulder four times in quick succession. That meant his sonar was picking it up now. But was that a good thing… or bad?

Blink blink. Blink.

Tock.

The light resolved into something like rings this time, perhaps outlining some creature’s torso. She swallowed nervously. Whatever it was, it was coming fast, but how fast? Was it big? Small? Edible?

Mike tapped again at her shoulder, much sooner this time.

Pretty fast, she decided.

Blink… Blink.

Tock.

Concentric rings of blue lit up across the entire field of her vision a split second before the gigantic mouth ahead of them went for her wrist. Eyes widening in terror, she jerked her hand upward—straight into the beast’s nose. Her claws speared through thick layers of skin and cartilage with a satisfying pop, but then the beast’s momentum carried the rest of it inexorably forward, slamming both hand and sea monster straight into her gut. It was only by the slimmest of margins that she retained her breath, and any thoughts beyond holding on for dear life were quickly shaken from her mind.

Doubtlessly in pain from its unplanned nasal piercing, the beast began to jerk and thrash, carrying her hand—and everything attached—helplessly along with it. At the same time, the phosphorescent rings ribbing the animal flared to life, far brighter than before. They pulsed in a chaotic dance from its head to the tips of the creature’s tails. It had two, she distantly noted. Two tails, each some ten feet in length and tipped at their far ends by spiny caudal fins, met midway up the creature’s torso where a large pair of spiked dorsal fins sprouted in a distinct V. Everything ahead of that point was pretty much a shark in every way that mattered…

That being the mouthful of spears currently attempting to bite her in half.

Desperate, she immediately began to rail against the beast with every free weapon she had available, from claws to teeth to the spiked tips of her toes. She would have much preferred to reposition to its back—or really anywhere far away from that huge maw snapping at her—but her hand was still stuck fast. All she could do was kick at the shark’s belly in an attempt to keep her own as far from those teeth as she could.

Their private war continued in this stalemate for what felt like an age but was probably no more than a few handfuls of seconds. The beast thrashed, seeking to dislodge her or, barring that, snag some part of her body so as to end the little bundle of fury it had accidentally snared itself upon. Its every move was accompanied by waves of blue light that shattered the darkness like a lantern.

Meanwhile, she kicked and gouged at random, with no more strategy than to cause as much pain as she could. Killing the beast did not even enter her mind. How could a woman kill a shark ten times her own size with her bare hands?

But then Mike’s enormous form sliced through the lantern light to slam into the monster’s side. What he hoped to accomplish from there was anyone’s guess. He was nowhere near close enough for any sort of rescue attempt—which should have been his number one priority.

Instead, his entire strategy seemed centered around pistoning his comparatively dull claws into the shark’s tough hide as many times as he possibly could. Whatever his ultimate aim, he must have been doing some damage, because the shark quickly began to roll in an effort to dislodge him, coincidentally succeeding in finally tearing her claws loose from its nose.

The next few seconds were a terrifying mix of spinning shark, blood, and gnashing teeth. Her every thought was subsumed by the need to put as much distance between herself and that maelstrom of death as she could, so she hastily flared the webbing at her feet and kicked away.

By some miracle, the shark did not follow, likely too distracted by the hulking man-thing trying to punch his way through its groin to worry about her. She had to give Mike some credit. Strategy and forethought might not have been his strong suits, but he was holding on like a champion. And giving as good as he got.

For a few moments, Naomi merely turned in place, watching while the pair of mortal combatants circled about her. She was still too twisted up by adrenaline to worry about what her next step might be, but eventually the pain of her recent ordeal began to register enough to notice the throbbing at her shoulder. It had been absolutely brutalized from having been jerked around so much, leaving little doubt as to how black and blue it would be if she managed to survive until the morning, but the beast had not managed to draw much blood beyond a few superficial scratches where her knees and elbows had grazed against its teeth.

And now that she had calmed down a little, she realized what a huge opportunity this was. The kinds of benefits they could obtain from a creature like this were almost too numerous to contemplate. Sharpened teeth? Tougher hides? Or better yet, the ability to light up the water around them? That alone would be worth the risk if for no other reason than gaining the ability to meaningfully explore their prison… and potentially escape it.

Of course, like any shark, their quarry was crazy dangerous. It would only take a single bite to put her or Mike—well… maybe two for Mike—permanently out of commission. And with how big it was, just being near it was its own hazard. It would not take much for it to pummel them senseless, particularly with those tails. Meanwhile, each of its fins featured several sharpened spikes protruding from their back edge. She could not imagine what purpose those might serve, given how they were positioned counter to its preferred direction of movement. It would not be able to attack with them…

She shook her head. That was a worry for later.

On their end of things, she and Mike were not without their advantages. They had teeth of their own. They had claws—which she already knew to be quite effective given the many gouges she had left along the shark’s face. They could hold their breath for… probably another ten minutes or so, she decided. Maybe less depending on how much energy they expended in struggling against this thing. Probably a lot. Regardless, escape was not necessary. Or even likely to succeed. The only reason they were doing as well as they had was because they were putting up a fight.

But how were they actually supposed to kill it?

Instantly, the computer in her brain filled her vision with a kind of HUD, highlighting key points along the creature’s body. Its eyes and—she assumed—gills were blinking red.

The eyes were an obvious target. Nothing wanted its eyes attacked, though she doubted injuring them would kill it. Still, they were a point of interest.

Meanwhile, there were four of the slitted gill structures along the lower half of the creature’s body, one just behind each of its central pectoral fins and another pair behind and above its pelvic fins, situated roughly halfway down the undersides of its tails.

She growled with sudden realization. The purpose behind those spines was now clear. They were there for the express purpose of guarding its weak points. Any attempt at damaging its breathing apparatus, and thus drowning the beast, would be met with a mouthful of sharp thorns… if she intended to use her mouth.

Fortunately, she was not so far gone as that. Whatever else had been done to her, she was still a human being. Hers was a species that survived through thought, planning, and the manipulation of its environment. Tools were in her very DNA. And she knew one when she saw it.

Webbing flared again, though this time not to flee. This time to attack!

She was beside the pair of combatants in an instant. By that point, Mike had multiple lacerations all over his body, likely obtained just from trying to hang on to the beast while it thrashed about. But he had managed to tear a good sized chunk out of its hide, exposing some part of its musculature. She had little doubt that he could eventually hit something vital. Assuming he survived that long.

But she had no intention on giving him that chance. With an almost feral gleam in her eye, she grabbed hold of the nearest pectoral fin by its unspiked front edge and, with a vicious jerk, slammed it right into its own gills.

If the shark had been bucking and spinning before then, it went absolutely nuts after that. Both of its tails instantly went into high gear, propelling the lot of them through the water like an out-of-control torpedo. Naomi had little choice but to hang on to her fin while the beast’s panicked flight cut an undirected, spiraling path through the darkness.

But at the least, she had managed to destroy one of her targets. Her prey had even done most of the work for her by simply thrashing around while she held the spikes to its flesh.

Mike’s hand found her wrist a moment later, and she glanced up at him. The guy had somehow managed to secure himself just ahead of the V of the shark’s dorsal fins where he was doing his level best to imitate a backwards-saddled bronco rider. Even so, the blue light dancing across his face revealed the occasional flash of concern. Concern for her.

Her heart swelled for a brief moment, appreciating the gesture if not the timing.

Digging one set of claws firmly into her handhold, she made a slashing gesture across the shark’s now-thoroughly-destroyed gills with her free hand then pointed up and over its back, indicating the other side. Mike caught on quickly for once and gave a firm nod of his head before pulling away, directed now toward his own task.

Naomi put him from her mind. Either he succeeded or he did not. She had her own task to perform.

With a grimace, she looked toward the tail still thrashing behind her and the secondary gill structure perched upon it. Attacking that thing would be a nightmare. She was going to have to slow this ride down somehow, else she ran the risk of getting knocked unconscious before she even made contact. But how?

She turned the other direction. Toward the other set of weak points the computer had indicated. Blinding the beast would not kill it… but it might force the great carnivore into some other course of action. If they were lucky, it would be too stunned to move about much, leaving it vulnerable while they finished it off.

Gritting her teeth, she stretched one hand over the next upward along the shark’s body, scaling it like a kind of living Everest. Her claws sank into flesh with each new handhold, the beast’s own momentum serving as hammer to the pitons upon her fingers. Acres of rough skin scratched and bit and her unprotected arms and torso like broken shards of granite, but she could only ignore the pain. She had already endured too much to give up now.

Before she knew it, she was in position atop the beast’s head. She wasted no time. With a feral grin stretching her lips, she slammed the claws of her left hand directly into one of the black orbs mounted upon its cartilaginous skull.

The great beast jerked in instant pain and terror, and Naomi went flying, attached only by the hold she had so-recently obtained within its eye-socket. For a horrifying brace of seconds, she was again face-to-teeth with snapping jaws. The only thing keeping her from instant death was her own hand upon the underside of the monster’s lip.

But then Mike finally destroyed his own set of gills.

The creature jerked again, spinning the other direction in its efforts to dislodge the pair of velociraptors it had so foolishly challenged, and Naomi flopped once more upon the shark’s back. Without even a moment’s hesitation, she slammed her free claws into the beast’s remaining eye, but the move did not have the effect she had hoped for.

Now blinded and already starting to suffocate, the twin-tailed shark began to experience true panic for the first time. It bucked and thrashed wildly. Its jaw and rows of terrifying teeth snapped uselessly. It swam as fast as its fins could carry it—no thought left to it other than escape.

It was all Naomi could do to simply hold on for dear life. But then—almost before she could even register what it was—a gigantic slab of rock loomed in the strobing lantern light ahead of them.

Suddenly, holding on was the last thing she wanted to do. With only a split-second to spare, the muscles in her legs bunched, and she kicked away just as the shark slammed head-first into the cavern wall.

For a few moments, all was still.

Naomi stared down at the beast wearily. Her heart was still audibly pounding in her ears. The air in her lungs was long stale. Her shoulder and the many scratches and tears along her body throbbed. If that thing somehow turned to attack her now, she was not sure what more she could do.

However, its mass only hung there, listless. And slowly, its phosphorescent light began to fade. If that meant it was dead, she did not know. It could have simply been stunned.

Then, before she could decide her next move, she realized she could see no sign of Mike, and a fresh batch of adrenaline surged through her veins. Where was he?! Was he dead? Crushed? Unconscious and slowly floating to the bottom of the ocean?

Then something touched her elbow and, with a startled yelp, she jerked away. But her spinning eyes were only greeted by Mike’s sheepish grin. The shark had apparently managed to shake him loose during its final moments. But instead of making a sound to clue her in, he had decided to scare the shit out of her.

With a growl, she punched his shoulder. That little stunt had cost her about five years of her life. And about five minutes of oxygen. She was going to have to resurface now before she could enjoy the fruits of their labor, but first…

Taking him by the ear, she dragged him toward the slowly sinking shark. She had to make certain it never woke up again, and it still had a set of gills remaining. Oddly, Mike did not resist the rough treatment. He simply allowed himself to be manhandled, contentedly staring at her as though in a daze. However, it was only once their source of light had begun to fade in earnest that she realized why.

Because, of course… she was topless.

And if a person were to look closely, they could just make out the slow grin stealing over her features as the depths returned to darkness.

*

Blast! He isn’t here, either. Where could that boy have gotten to?

You, on the sensors. Tell me you’ve managed to get a lock on that damned Transport.

…

Yes, I know it’s only meant for biological scans. I didn’t think we’d ever have a need for tracking our own damned ship. But surely you can get a read on… a heat signature… or… or—

< the door bursts open >

…!

< a moment of stunned silence >

They killed a what?!