James Rollins: Deep Fathom

Kendall was the first on his feet, raising his glass. “To Elvis!”

The others followed suit. The old dog barked loudly.

Jack sat back down, smiling.

Slowly, as dinner became dessert, people began to wander away into private groups to discuss the day and their futures, all happy to still have one. Jack spotted Karen by the starboard rail. She stared into the sun’s last glow.

He pushed to his feet, feeling slightly tipsy from the champagne. He crossed to the rail and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. As he did, he saw she held the broken shards of the crystal star in her palms.

She spoke, her voice melancholy. “With the revelations of these past days, my research is over. My great-grandfather was right. There was a lost continent. I now know the ancients truly existed.” She looked up at him sadly. “But if we are to keep the secret of the dark matter hidden, then none must ever know the truth. Look how close we came to destroying ourselves with the mere power of the atom . Can you imagine what we’d do with the power of an entire planet?”

Leaning over, she tumbled the bright crystal shards into the dark sea. “Like the ancients themselves, we’re not ready for such power.”

Jack took her palms, cradling them in his own. “Don’t worry. There are other mysteries yet to be discovered.” Leaning down, he stared deeply into her eyes, his lips brushing hers, his voice low. “You just need to know where to look.”

Hours after the eclipse, Doreen McCloud left her office building. She stared down Market Street. The sun was a mere glow on the western horizon. As she stared skyward, she felt a surge of inexplicable joy. She didn’t understand this sudden emotion. She had lost a critical client today, and the senior partners had scheduled an early morning meeting with her to discuss the loss. Where normally such a thought would fill her with dread, this evening all she felt was a simple appreciation of the cool San Francisco breeze.

As she walked toward the BART station, she noticed others glancing skyward, smiles on their faces, laughter.

Stopping atop the stairs to the station, Doreen glanced to the setting sun.

What a strangely wonderful day.

Jimmy Pomautuk climbed down the path, his malamute Nanook at his side. The noisy English trio clambered ahead of him, chattering nonstop, full of grins and jokes. Though the group had complained all the way up here, the eclipse had not failed to impress them. In fact, the sight had even touched his cynical soul: the dark sun, the silver ocean, the brilliant borealis .

He wished he could have shared it with his son, one generation passing a special heritage to another.

Glancing back, Jimmy watched the sun set beyond Glacial Point. For some reason, today he felt closer to his grandfather, his ancestors, even the old gods of his people.

Sighing, Jimmy patted Nanook.

“It’s been a good day, boy.”

In the garden atrium of the governor’s mansion, Jeffrey Hessmire stood beside the Secretary of State. Together they watched President Bishop cross the courtyard. The festivities associated with the eclipse were dying away. People were returning to their normal activities.

President Bishop stepped in front of the Chairman of the People’s Republic. He bowed slightly, a show of respect, and held out his hand.

After a short pause, the Chairman lifted an arm and gripped the President’s hand. Off to the side there was a flourish of camera flashes as the press documented the momentous occasion.

“I know there is still much to settle between our countries,” the President said, “but together we’ll find a way to peace.”

The Chairman bowed his head in agreement.

At Jeffrey’s side, Secretary Elliot snorted. “This is just gonna kill Lawrence Nafe — both him and his hawkish cronies. After today, the Vice President’s political support will dry up faster than a puddle in the Sahara. And though it may take some time for Nafe to realize it, his career just ended here today.” Elliot clapped Jeffrey on the shoulder. “All in all, I must say it’s been one hell of a great day.”

Watching the ceremony, Jeffrey could not wipe the smile from his face.

No doubt about it…it was a day to remember.

No man is an island, and certainly no writer. There are so many good people and friends who have helped hone this novel. First and foremost, I wish to express my appreciation to Lyssa Keusch, my editor, and to Russ Galen, my agent.

For technical assistance, several individuals have been invaluable in the research behind the novel’s science and history: Stephen R. Fischer, Ph.D., for his background in Polynesian languages; Dr. Charles Plummer of CSUS, for his knowledge of geological sciences; Vera Rubin, for her articles on astronomy; both Dr. Phil Nuytten of Nuytco Research Ltd. and the folks at Zegrahm Deep Sea Voyages, for the details of submersible dynamics; Laurel Moore, librarian of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, for her assistance in deep-sea biology; and David Childress, for his book Ancient Micronesia, an invaluable resource. Finally, a marked recognition must be made to two other authors whose books inspired this story: Colonel James Churchward, Books of the Golden Age, and Charles Berlitz, The Dragon’s Triangle.

Of course, I must never forget my posse in words who helped pick apart and polish the first draft: Chris Crowe, Michael Gallowglas, Lee Garrett, Dennis Grayson, Penny Hill, Debra Nelson, Chris Koehler, Dave Meek, Chris Smith, Jane O’Riva, Steve and Judy Prey, Caroline Williams — and for critical analysis and a decade of friendship, Carolyn Mc-Cray.

And lastly, a special thanks to Steve Winters of Web Stew, for his internet skills, and Don Wagner, for his ardent and accomplished support.

James Rollinsis the bestselling author of five previous novels: Subterranean, Excavation, Deep Fathom, Amazonia, and Ice Hunt . He has a doctorate in veterinary medicine and his own practice in Sacramento, California. An amateur spelunker and a certified scuba enthusiast, he can often be found either underground or underwater.