“Have you picked out the coral beds where you want to take our first samples?” Jazz asked, checking her dive watch. “Our first allotted window of ROV time is in ninety minutes.”

  “I’ve selected a few candidates, but I’d like to make another full pass around the ring of windows at this level, and maybe on the tier above us, too.”

  “Don’t dawdle,” Jazz warned. “We’re not the only ones salivating for ROV time. We’ve got a lot of competition down here.”

  “And above us.”

  Thousands of researchers, academics, and scientists had petitioned to be part of this great oceanic enterprise—but only three hundred had been chosen for the inaugural start of the Titan Project. Those hundreds were now spread across three zones.

  Half the researchers remained topside, aboard the Titan X, the thousand-foot-long gigayacht that supported a thirteen-story glass sphere at its stern. The orb housed twenty-two state-of-the-art laboratories. It was a ship capable of servicing the station here, but it could also swiftly sail the seas, driven by a molten-salt nuclear reactor, to engage in studies around the globe.

  Also topside was Titan Station Up, a floating platform designed after the FPSO system of oil rigs. It served as the staging ground, workstation, and permanent support facility. The station’s two dozen submersibles—both HOVs and ROVs—were also docked there.

  During the past two weeks, the specialized HOVs—human occupied vehicles—had ferried researchers and staff two miles deep to Titan Station Down. Some had described the inverted pyramid of the underwater station as the “world’s most expensive toy top.”

  To her, as she had descended in an HOV two days before, it had been the most incredible sight. The station’s uppermost level, with its large glass observatory dome, looked like a huge UFO that stretched a hundred meters across. The four tiers below it were the same circular shape as the first, but each shrank in diameter the deeper they went, forming that “toy top.” The bottommost level—where she was now—was a mere twenty meters wide. It held no labs, just a ring of polarized black glass, making it as much an observatory as the dome on top.

  Like the platform and ship above, this entire station floated, hovering above the seabed. Its position was maintained by ballast tanks and dynamically stabilized by thrusters at each level. The only point of contact with the fragile ecosystem below were a few anchors cabling them in place.

  To make it easier for the researchers and workers to move about the three zones, Titan Station Down was maintained at a constant one atmosphere of pressure, requiring no acclimation or decompression as personnel arrived or left. Submersibles offloaded or took on passengers through a docking system similar to the one at the International Space Station—which was appropriate, as the landscape around them was as hostile and as dangerous as any vacuum of space.

  Still, such fears were hard to hold on to. Phoebe and Jazz, like most of the researchers, continued to walk around the sky-blue passageways in a haze of awe, nervousness, and excitement. They’d all had months of preparations, weeks of lectures, and days of safety classes. Still, nothing could prepare one for entering this world.

  “Pheebs, you finish your survey down here,” Jazz said. “I’m heading up and checking our assigned ROV terminal. I want to make sure that duo from MIT doesn’t eat into our time.”

  “You do that. Keep breathing down their necks if you have to.”

  “Oh, trust me, this girl’ll cut a guy if he doesn’t move quick enough.”

  Phoebe smiled as Jazz headed toward the spiral staircase that led upward. Jasleen was barely five-foot, with a pixie cut of dark hair, but when it came to defending their workspace and schedule, she could become a veritable pit bull.

  Knowing Jazz would hold her just as accountable to their schedule as anyone, Phoebe set about circling the Tethys Tier. This time, she focused less on the wonder of the abundant sea life that swam, crawled, or jetted across the reefs and more on her area of expertise.

  Her doctoral thesis had been on the unique biology of deep-sea coral. Most people were familiar with shallow coral from snorkeling, where polyps derived energy from photosynthesizing algae that lived cooperatively within the coral. But her interests focused on those corals who made their home below the sunlit zone. Such deep-thriving corals continued to be a mystery and remained poorly understood. In these frigid, high-pressure waters, they matured slowly and were known for their incredible longevities, up to five thousand years by some estimates.

  With no sunlight, such species fed on microscopic organisms—zooplankton and phytoplankton—along with the particulate organic matter from decaying plants and animals. To take up that abundance, deep-sea corals formed beautiful, fragile structures of fronds and fine branches that sifted the currents for food and oxygen. As a result, bathypelagic reefs looked more like forests, all feathered and fanned out.

  Which is certainly true here.

  Beyond the window, the sheer volume of coral was astounding. It was more of a fluorescent jungle than a forest. Brilliant gorgonian coral rose in towering stalks and branches, some climbing thirty or forty feet high. They glowed in yellows, pinks, blues, and soft purples. They were mixed with sea whips and sea fans. Elsewhere, tall stands of jet-black tree corals rose in dense, thick branches, looking like carbonized sculptures of meter-tall pines. In stark contrast, huge bushes of ivory-colored Lophelia filled gullies or crowned ridges.

  She was momentarily daunted by the monumental task to study and catalog the breadth of this landscape, but she took a deep breath, remembering a Chinese proverb often quoted by her mother whenever Phoebe grew too overwhelmed, especially after they had first moved to the States.

  A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

  She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

  I can do this.

  11:08 A.M.

  Forty minutes later, Phoebe completed her second pass around the windows of Tethys Tier. To navigate the space, she had to scoot past clusters of colleagues, who whispered in languages from around the globe. She carried an e-tablet that glowed with a map of the surrounding reefs. She had marked fifteen possible sites—three times too many for their first window of ROV time.

  I need to whittle this down to the best five or six spots.

  She clutched her tablet, frustrated but knowing she would have ample time later for additional sampling. In the months ahead, she intended to widen her search grid. The first week was intended to be about acclimation, about getting accustomed to the collection methods and learning how best to utilize the station’s onboard labs. After that, her research could be expanded. She already had a booking on a survey HOV heading out next Tuesday, where she could explore sites farther afield.

  As if summoned by this thought, a brilliant yellow submersible, with a huge glass sphere at its bow, glided past. Beyond the glare of its lights, which stung through her sensitive goggles, shadows could be seen moving behind the HOV’s curve of glass.

  She pressed a palm to the window and watched it disappear into the darkness, a slowly fading star. An ache of desire burned through her.

  A man spoke, startling her. “What do you think of all this, Dr. Reed?”

  Focused fully on the view, she hadn’t noticed anyone approach. She turned, then stiffened in surprise at the presence of William Byrd, the CEO of ESKY and principal investor of the Titan Project. The fifty-year-old Aussie had made his fortune from shipbuilding—mostly container ships and freighters, but also for the Australian navy. His company continued to handle the bulk of international trade. His net worth was upward of $70 billion. Still, he currently wore a simple navy-blue jumpsuit and cap bearing the symbol of a trident, the official uniform for the station. The only sign of his wealth was a bulky gold pocket watch that hung from a chain across his chest.

  She removed her goggles and struggled to find her voice. She finally waved to the seas beyond the glass, remembering her own first impression of the view. “Mister Byrd . . . you . . . were not wrong to describe these seas as a lost Garden of Eden. It’s all truly astounding.”

  “Ah, so you heard my press conference last week?”

  He gave her a rakish grin, making him look even more boyish. His face was deeply tanned—but not from any salon. It had the salt-scoured look of a rugged sailor, set off by thick blond hair, speckled with white from either age or the sun’s bleaching, probably both.

  “I doubt anyone missed it,” she said. “Though I suspect Bezos, Branson, and Musk might’ve taken offense.”

  He shrugged. “Serves them right. Why spend billions sending rockets into space when there are so many mysteries left unexplored right here on Earth. Especially under the sea, where only 20 percent of the ocean floor has been mapped so far. And even those maps are of poor resolution. When it comes to discerning a level of detail necessary to detect items as large as plane wrecks, it drops to a paltry 0.05 percent—leaving nearly all the ocean floor unexplored.”

  “I hadn’t realized those numbers were so low,” Phoebe said.

  Byrd nodded sadly. “It presents our greatest challenge. Humanity’s future will not be discovered on the surface of Mars, but in that 99.9 percent of the Earth’s oceans that remain a mystery. And we neglect it at our peril. The oceans are our breadbasket, our playground, even our pharmacy. More importantly, the seas are the true lungs of our planet, producing 80 percent of the world’s oxygen and consuming 25 percent of the carbon dioxide. If even a quarter of the ocean dies, so does most life on Earth.”

  Phoebe nodded along with him, reminded of the overall importance of the Titan Project. It was funded by a conglomerate of non-profit groups, research grants, and corporate sponsors, but the lion’s share of the investment had come from the man standing before her. She didn’t know if this was his way of giving back after raking in billions from his thousands of cargo carriers plying the world’s oceans. Still, at least he was giving back. It was his company that had overseen and financed most of the construction of the Titan Complex, spending $10 billion to see it come to fruition in a shockingly swift timeframe.

  And I get to be part of it.

  Yet, even the billionaire standing before her could not hold Phoebe’s full attention. Her gaze kept slipping past his shoulders to the ring of windows. Her eyes followed the path of a Cuvier’s beaked whale as it swept across the coral beds, likely as curious about them as they were about their surroundings. Such whales were the Cetacean deep-divers, known to hold their breath for hours.

  Byrd must have sensed her restless inattention, which only broadened his welcoming grin. He turned to stare at the wonderland glowing out the windows.

  “If this is truly a lost Garden of Eden,” he said, “let’s hope we don’t get kicked out for seeking forbidden knowledge like Eve. We have much to learn down here. And a lot of work ahead of us.”

  “It’s not work. Trust me. It’s an honor. To be here at the edge of the Coral Sea. With all the discoveries that await us, I’m anxious to get started as soon as possible.”

  By now, the others on this level had all turned their way, ignoring the view outside. William Byrd seldom intruded upon the researchers. During Phoebe’s weeks of training aboard the Titan X, she had spotted the billionaire only a few times, either across the deck of the yacht or as he was shuffled amidst an entourage throughout the science globe. At the moment, he had pared his staff down to a lone, stern-faced bodyguard, a tall Aboriginal man, who had a hand resting atop the pommel of a baton secured at his waist.

  “Your enthusiasm inspires me, Dr. Reed,” Byrd said, still staring out at the breadth of the sea.

  “Thank you,” Phoebe stammered, shocked that the man even knew her name.

  Then again, she was one of the few Black faces aboard the Titan Complex and the only Black woman as far as she knew. She hoped that was not the reason for his recognition—or the fact that she stood six-foot-two and towered over most everyone.

  While the Titan Project was an international effort, the majority remained white and male. There was a fair number from across Asia, along with a handful from Turkey, Pakistan, and the Middle East. Still, men outnumbered women twenty to one. But that spoke more to the lack of women in the sciences versus any prejudice.

  At least, I hope so.

  Byrd turned from the window to face her. “I look forward to your thoughts on the state of our reefs, Dr. Reed. I can only hope we discover a way to stop the destruction of the coral beds that gave this sea its name.”

  She had suspected this was the reason she had been selected to participate in the project. Deep-sea coral seemed especially resistant to the heat-induced bleaching of surface coral, an affliction threatening the Great Barrier Reef. Such deep-growing coral also withstood pollution far better. But no one truly knew exactly why. If it could be discovered, it might offer a solution to saving the great reefs of the world.

  “I’ve read your journal articles from your research at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute,” Byrd continued. “Related to the resilient ecology of Sur Ridge off the coast of California. It’s why I place such hope on your work here.”

  She tried to hide her shock. He read my work. So, maybe the man’s acknowledgment had nothing to do with her skin color or her towering height after all.

  She straightened her back. “I will do my best.”

  “I have no doubt of that.”

  Byrd finally sighed loudly. “I will leave you to get fully settled, Dr. Reed. But I look forward to chatting with you again.”

  Before he could step toward the central stairs, a low rumble echoed through the station. Outside, the anchor cables swayed, but the five tiers of Titan Station Down barely moved as its rows of thrusters, all computer coordinated, compensated for the shaking.

  Still, the other scientists gathered closer, shying from the ring of windows.

  Even Byrd’s bodyguard reached a hand toward his charge.

  But the Aussie stepped aside and raised an arm, along with his voice. “Just a minor sea quake, everyone. Nothing to worry about. We’re in a tectonically active region. This is the sixteenth—no, seventeenth—tremor we’ve recorded since we started this project. Such quakes are expected and have been fully accounted for by Titan’s design team.”

  As the tremor subsided, Phoebe was the only one to step back to a window. She gazed out. Beyond the glass, the sea life looked as unimpressed by the shaking as Byrd. The fluffed-up sand was already sifting back down.

  She tested a palm against the glass, feeling the slight thrum of the stabilizing thrusters but nothing else. She stared beyond the reach of the red lamps to the darkness beyond, toward the likely epicenters of the recent tremors. She pictured where this sea shelf dropped away into an interconnecting maze of deep trenches: the Solomon trenches, the New Hebrides, and farther out, the Tonga and Kermadec trenches. They marked the broken tectonic line where the Pacific Plate ground under the Indo-Australian Plate.

  While the Mariana Trench to the north got more publicity and attention—being the world’s deepest—it was only a thousand meters deeper than this chain. Because of their second ranking, these trenches had never been given as much scientific attention.

  Until now, she hoped.

  One of the reasons she wanted to join the Titan Project had been its proximity to those trenches and how it tied to her latest research. Deep-sea coral had been well documented in beds two miles under the sea. But no one truly knew if they thrived deeper, and if so, what they might look like or how they survived. Answers to those mysteries could be found in the neighboring maze of trenches.

  She glanced back to William Byrd, who had been stopped by a trio of researchers before he could leave. It sounded like he was still reassuring them, speaking about all the troubleshooting and shakedown testing that the station had undergone.

  She let him drone on, remembering instead his statement from a moment before, about how 99.9 percent of the ocean remained unexplored. There must be deeper-growing coral out there somewhere.

  She turned back to the window.

  And I will find them.

  With her palm still on the glass, she felt a tremor that started in her hand and vibrated up her arm. Outside, the seabed shivered, casting up sand, shaking that vast forest. The sedate sea life flashed away with flickers of fins and tails. An army of crabs abandoned their scavenging and skittered away from the reef. Octopi and squids jetted off into the darkness, leaving behind a panicked fog of ink.

  Her eyes widened, and her breath caught, stifling the warning in her throat.

  Before she could exhale, the sea floor bucked under the station. The anchor lines thrashed violently. Two of them ripped away. Overhead, fire doors slammed shut between the levels, isolating each tier. As the station twisted and jolted, the rest of the cables were jettisoned with bubbling blasts from their attachments to the floating structure.

  Once loose, Titan Station Down spun slowly like the top that it was—until the thrusters finally compensated and drew them back to a steady hover.

  Phoebe glanced to the others. A few of the researchers had been thrown to the floor by the jarring of the station. William Byrd remained on his feet, likely due to the firm grip of his bodyguard.

  The Aussie attempted a laugh, but it came out forced. “That was more of a shakedown cruise than I had hoped you’d experience, but as you can see, even under such a severe jolt, all is well.”

  Overhead, the fire doors slowly sighed open between the levels. An all-clear klaxon chimed throughout the station.

  “As I told you,” he assured them with a big smile, “there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Still, his grin looked far less sure than it had a few moments before.

  Phoebe turned back to the window. As the quake faded, the seabed settled. The sands sifted down and revealed the reef again, which appeared mostly intact. A couple of taller tree corals had snapped at their bases and crashed down into the sand. But that seemed the worst of the damage.