Heng crossed to the open safe, staring down with crossed arms at the macabre remains of Matthew. Even Stamford had offered no answers about the transformation of the Aboriginal lad’s body—or at least, his central nervous system. Raffles had described Crawfurd’s horror at the discovery of the still-living tissue inside the mineralized shell of the boy’s skull. Mercifully, it had only survived twenty minutes before finally going slack with death. Afterward, Stamford had interred the remains in the hopes that some future scientist could make sense of the boy’s death.

  Xue finally shoved the last page aside.

  Gray watched him stare contemplatively off into the distance and waited for the man to return. It was a frightening story and still left many questions unanswered.

  Like the condition of Matthew.

  Xue sighed and turned to Gray. “What do you make of it?”

  The others in the room gathered closer.

  “What did you learn?” Seichan pressed them both.

  “The story picks up where Stamford and Crawfurd left off. Following the autopsy of the two bodies.” Gray waved to the buried safe. “We all know how one of those post-mortems ended up.”

  “What about the other?”

  “Stoepker.” Gray sighed. “Crawfurd discovered strange welts over the man’s body. On those regions of the man’s flesh that had been untainted by the biomineralization process. He believed those welts were the source of whatever cured him.”

  “Or at least, halted the advancement of the disease,” Xue corrected him. “I doubt it could reverse it. To reform bone that had been dissolved.”

  “True,” Gray acknowledged. “Crawfurd found more information about those welts in the account that Stoepker wrote. While dying, Stoepker had related the events that followed after he and Matthew had left the Tenebrae in a steel-hulled tender.”

  “What happened?” Heng asked.

  “Shortly after boarding the tender and escaping the burning Tenebrae, a fierce quake struck. Their boat nearly capsized. The tender got swamped with broken branches of coral that stung and burned. Stoepker also discovered a strange sight in the ash-covered seas. Hundreds of spiny balls of coral, as he described them. They seemed to spin and churn on their own.”

  “What were they?” Heng asked.

  “We’ll get to that,” Gray said and continued the account. “Over the course of a dozen days, the pair got sicker and sicker. Unfortunately, Matthew went downhill faster—maybe due to his body size or perhaps he took on more of the venom. They also witnessed how those spiny balls, even fractured pieces of them, could set fire to any combustible material. Wood, clothing, oil.”

  Xue nodded. “Stoepker wrote of rowing past a small bay that was entirely aflame.”

  Gray eyed the others, stressing the significance of this next part of the story. “But it wasn’t just coral in the water. Stoepker described seeing lights flashing under and around his boat. Though the source would never reveal itself, Matthew insisted they were Rainbow Serpents. He told Stoepker that if they prayed to them, the serpents might intercede.”

  “Did they?”

  “Matthew tried his best. Over the course of two days and nights, he drew his picture and sang to the waters. He so exhausted himself that he fell into a coma afterward. Still, something heard him, or maybe it was happenstance. But one night, those glowing serpents rose around the tender and probed with long shining tentacles, revealing themselves to be some type of bioluminescent cephalopod—or so Stoepker believed at the time.”

  “If they weren’t that,” Heng asked, “what were they?”

  Xue lifted a palm. “I’m not entirely sure we have an answer, but let’s finish Stoepker’s story first.”

  Gray nodded and continued. “Those tentacles didn’t have any suckers, but they did—to quote Stoepker—flail with stinging threads that flamed through cloth and skin, as if reaching for my very bones.”

  “Which must have created those welts,” Heng said. “Whatever chemical was in those stings, they likely acted as a counteragent to the coral’s poison.”

  “That is what both Stoepker, and later Crawfurd, believed. Sadly, the Rainbow Serpents hadn’t arrived in time to save the boy, and their intervention only delayed the inevitable in Stoepker, as he was already too far gone by then. And so ended their tragic tale.”

  “But it was picked up by Raffles and Crawfurd after that,” Xue said. “Wanting to know more about those Rainbow Serpents, Raffles sought out Matthew’s people.”

  Gray lifted his chin to stare over at Kadir. “Matthew hailed from an island in the Torres Strait.”

  “He must have been a member of the Kaurareg People.” Kadir stepped closer, drawn by this aspect of the story. “It makes sense that the boy was from there. The nautical expertise of the Torres Strait Islanders was well known at the time. Many of them ended up serving aboard British and Dutch ships. But what did Raffles learn from Matthew’s people?”

  “While seeking them out, Raffles heard about a great gathering of Aboriginal folk. They had come from across Indonesia and traveled in a large flotilla to the seas near the island of Sumbawa. This was weeks prior, when Tambora was still erupting. There, they performed a ceremony to appease the angry gods. They used bullroarers during the ceremony. Hundreds of them. According to Raffles, after that ritual, the mountain finally quieted down.”

  “And whatever fouled and poisoned the waters vanished, too,” Xue added.

  Seichan scowled. “But no one actually witnessed this. Right? No one but the Aboriginal people who told this story afterward. For all anyone knows, it could have been fabricated, a tale to boost their mystical esteem.”

  “Maybe, but Raffles and Crawfurd did speak to their elders. From them, the pair learned the legends of the Rainbow Serpent. It was a tale that goes back to what the Aboriginal elders called the Dark Dreaming, the dawn of humanity—or at least to the arrival of the Aboriginal people to Australia and the neighboring islands.”

  Kadir rubbed his chin, looking like he wanted to comment, but he remained quiet.

  Xue picked up the story for the others. “Up until then, this ancient story and how it bore on the present world was a closely guarded secret among the Aboriginal people. But Crawfurd convinced the elders to share it with him. According to their legends, the world’s crust is thin in several places, so thin that it allows access to the underworld of the Rainbow Serpent, a god who could travel the globe along deep rivers beneath the world.”

  Kadir nodded at this description.

  “The Java Sea around the island of Sumbawa was one of those thin places. When the gods were angry, they could burst through there to exact punishment.”

  “But that wasn’t the only spot.” Gray reached to the set of drawings found with the papers from the safe. “There was another. One far more significant. What the Aboriginal elders claimed was the true home of the Rainbow Serpents.”

  “Where was that?” Seichan asked.

  “As Crawfurd writes, it lies well beyond all islands, in seas rarely seen. Still, he kept a record of his journey there, even commissioning sketches.”

  Seichan squinted. “You’re talking about those drawings of an island with some indigenous people.”

  Gray nodded. “Which we now know was the Aboriginal party who took Crawfurd to that other thin spot of the world, the home of their gods. When he was there, he had shipboard artists draw renditions of the island. I think the ones secured in the safe were hidden there because, unlike the first set, the coastlines were drawn with enough detail that the island could be identified.”

  Gray slid a sketch that showed one such coastline with a prominent cratered mountain.

  “I wager this is the silhouette of a volcano on that island. The equivalent of Tambora out in those rarely seen seas.” Gray drew forth a second sketch. “And here you can see another view of the island, on its other side. There’s also either a map of the island’s edges or maybe the reefs around it.”

  “Does this place have a name?” Kadir asked, plainly intrigued by this secret tied to his great-grandfather. “Or do you have any idea where it might be?”

  “Not yet,” Gray answered. “But I have some thoughts.”

  Xue looked at him, but Gray waved for him to continue with the story.

  Xue cleared his throat. “Crawfurd spent three months on that island, learning all he could. He witnessed for himself how the Aboriginal elders could summon Rainbow Serpents with their bullroarers. He learned more about the strange coral and how the two were connected. He even examined specimens of both in secret. Those efforts were later discovered and considered deeply sacrilegious by the elders. He barely escaped with his life. Still, he did manage to secure one of their sacred bullroarers, along with the pages he had drawn.”

  Before continuing, Gray studied the spread of sketches that encompassed Crawfurd’s investigation on the island. He shifted their order, trying to piece them together like a jigsaw puzzle. Xue helped him, offering some suggestions and even sharper insights.

  Once they were ready to present Crawfurd’s work in the best light, Gray faced the group. “Our intrepid doctor began his investigation with the coral. So let’s follow his example. Here is his detailed drawing of the specimen in all its glory, what Crawfurd dubbed Perfidia lithiasis, meaning treacherous stone.”

  Gray slid over a handsome sketch of a tree of black coral. In the upper corner was a close-up of its eight-limbed polyp.

  Xue stared at the page. “From the level of detail that follows, Crawfurd’s ship must have been well equipped with microscopes, dissecting instruments, anything that the Batavian Society could provide to assist his efforts.”

  “Here’s more of his handiwork.” Gray laid out a selection of pages. They showed another schematic of the coral tree, a cross-section of its stony skeleton, and a large peek at its stinging polyp.

  “While on the island,” Xue continued, “Crawfurd experienced an eruption. A fairly violent one. Enough that he fled to his ship. During that quake, he spied in the waters what Stoepker had described as spiny balls of coral. Having read Stoepker’s account and knowing the fiery threat they presented, he beseeched his Aboriginal guides for help. Again, they spun their bullroarers atop the ship’s deck and summoned the Rainbow Serpents. The tentacled beasts rose and cleared the seas of the danger, whisking the threat back into the depths. At the same time, the volcanic eruption also subsided, as if their efforts had soothed the angry gods of the underworld.”

  “Or it could be a coincidence,” Seichan reminded them.

  Gray ignored her skepticism and withdrew another sketch from the pile. “Here is a drawing Crawfurd made of that strange mobile version of the hard coral.”

  “It looks like a floating mine,” Zhuang said sternly.

  “Or a viral particle,” Heng added.

  Gray conceded both points with a nod. “If the tale is true, they could possibly be both. Like any naval mine, those spiky balls would pose a fiery threat to any passing ships. And maybe that was their function. A means of defense for the species. Whenever a danger rose, the spiny corals would be dispatched, sent out as a biological attack against a threat.”

  Heng studied the spread of drawings with a furrowed brow. “But how does this aggressive and dangerous coral connect to the Rainbow Serpents, a species that seems relatively benevolent?”

  Gray turned to Xue. “I’ll let you share what you came to believe from studying the sketches.”

  Xue nodded. “I’m convinced the two are actually the same species. With the Serpent being a more mature version of the other. Crawfurd seemed to suspect the same. Whether he learned this on his own or was instructed by an elder, I don’t know. But he did draw this sketch.”

  Xue pulled forward a picture that showed a series of iterations—from an eight-limb polyp to a version that appeared motile to a larger independent beast with eyes.

  “I believe he’s demonstrating the life cycle of the species,” Xue explained.

  Heng squinted at the last image. “Ending with the Rainbow Serpent.”

  Gray nodded. “Like with the coral, Crawfurd also studied this adult form of the species. He suspected it lived deep in the sea, only rising when called or needed. Which in most cases meant mitigating the damage done by their younger versions and removing them once their attack was deemed to be over.”

  Xue pulled up the last two sketches. “He did anatomical drawings of those smooth-limbed serpents. Here’s one that details its circulatory system and the papules that cast out those stinging threads.”

  “I suspect he did more drawings,” Xue said. “But this was all he was willing to share. Leaving behind the barest clue to what he and Raffles were trying to protect. Still, he spent considerable time examining and drawing those stinging tendrils. As a physician, Crawfurd must have found them the most intriguing.”

  Xue showed the last sketch. It detailed the anatomy and conformation of those potent-tipped tendrils.

  Heng stepped closer, demonstrating the same keen medical interest as Crawfurd. “Those tendrils could be modified versions of a coral’s stinging cells. Maybe it was how they conveyed the cure, dispensing a counteragent to their younger version’s toxin.”

  Gray gathered the pages. “That’s what Crawfurd was told and believed. But we don’t know if he ever had a chance to confirm it himself.”

  Seichan scowled at this admission. “So all of this could be hearsay, like the claim that bullroarers could calm eruptions.”

  Gray couldn’t argue against this. A healthy skepticism might be warranted.

  Xue had taken on that thousand-mile stare again.

  Gray waited it out.

  Xue finally leaned back. “What I find naggingly consistent across these stories is the role of harmonics. It was an ELF transmission that started all of this, back when our lunar landing was drilling into a deposit of what could be a piece of Theia’s crystalline crust. It makes me wonder if that particular frequency and wavelength is the species’ equivalent of a distress call. Maybe it blasted out that signal when it sensed our drilling, taking it as the threat.”

  “But how had it known what was happening on the moon?” Seichan asked.

  “As I said before, it could be a means of communication that is unknown to us, a quantum entanglement between all the pieces of Theia—both under our mantle and beneath the moon’s dust.”

  For now, Gray ran with this hypothesis, seeing where it might lead. “If you’re right, maybe everything remained quiet back in 2020 because there was no confirmatory Help! from the moon after the distress call.” Gray turned to Xue. “But what’s happening now?”

  “I can only hazard a guess. Two weeks ago, we sent out that same ELF transmission. A very loud one. Maybe they took it as another distress call. Originating deep in our mountains.”

  Xue’s countenance tightened as if coming to a concerning realization.

  “What?” Gray pressed him.

  A note of panic entered his voice. “Our geologists. They had been studying the quakes over the past two weeks. From the pattern and intensity, they believe the vectors of force were aiming from the Tonga Trench straight to our coastline.”

  Xue turned to him. “Maybe what we’re experiencing is a response to that distress call, the one buried in our ELF transmission. Maybe all of this is an effort to reach the source of our signal in the mountains.”

  “And they’re ripping through the world to get to it,” Gray added.

  “But what’s behind it?” Heng asked. “How does this strange species—these old gods of the Aboriginal species—tie into all of this?”

  Xue shook his head, more than willing to admit his ignorance.

  Gray dismissed this question, too—for now. “Xue, if you’re right about this being all about harmonics, then maybe the tonal frequency of a bullroarer—a very specifically crafted one—is the species’ equivalent of an All Clear. A signal to stop whatever is causing the tectonic disturbance and to halt the spreading attack by those viral mines.”

  Xue stood up. “There is only one way to find out.”

  Gray frowned.

  “We have an aircraft and can secure a boat,” Xue explained. “It’s risky, but Mount Tambora is not far away.”

  Gray followed him up. “You want to test this theory? In the shadow of a mountain that nearly broke the world before?”

  Xue faced him. “If this threat is truly aiming straight for China—and taking the world down with it—I can use your help.”

  “So our truce continues?”

  Xue shook his head as he left. “No.”

  Confused, Gray hurried after him.

  Xue glanced back. “It’s a partnership now.”

  Sixth

  31

  January 24, 11:17 A.M. NZDT

  Pacific Ocean, six hundred miles NE of Auckland

  Monk sat at the communication station on the Titan X’s bridge. He wore a beige jumpsuit, disguising himself as one of the yacht’s crew. Captain Stemm stood before the helm. The other men worked silently around him.

  All were under the watchful eye of three commandos in body armor and helmets. Their battle gear was painted in black-and-blue camo. They patrolled the floor, armed with QBZ assault rifles. But the trio were not their true captors. The ship and all those aboard were trapped in a net—both above and below the sea.

  Monk searched the panoramic view out to the ocean and skies. Three hours ago, a huge amphibious boat had sped into these waters. It was a Chinese Type 726 LCAC—an air-cushioned landing craft—nicknamed Yema, which meant wild horse.

  And that stallion had quickly proven its name.

  On arrival, even at a hundred feet in length and half as wide, it had proven its nimble-footedness. It had jetted several times around the Titan X, skimming the ash-covered waves on fat pontoons, nearly floating atop a cushion of air. Its gas-turbine engines churned a pair of seven-meter-tall fans mounted on the boat’s aft end.