grains, and beans were stacked nearly to the ceiling. The stove had a dozen burners and a carbon-scored griddle. There was an eating bar with stainless steel warming units and three ordinary foldout cafeteria tables with benches on either side. Two men and a woman drinking coffee from mismatched mugs sat at the table farthest from them. They couldn’t have been there very long, judging by the puddles around their boots.
“All of our specialists in one place at the same time,” Butler said. “Trust me when I say that making this happen was a logistical nightmare.”
He laughed in the easy, confident manner of a man accustomed to doing so for an audience.
“Where are my manners? In my excitement I nearly blew right past the introductions. Dr. Brooke Calder, marine biologist for the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, and Ahiga Nabahe, the sociocultural anthropologist responsible for discovering the first of what we like to call around here The Watchers.”
From the corner of her eye, Calder caught Nabahe look curiously at Butler.
“And over here we have our old-timers.” Butler smiled. “You guys have been here what? Half an hour now?”
“Almost.” The woman at the other table wore a red parka, cargo pants, and her long blonde hair in a ponytail. The expression on her face was more carefully guarded than the tone of her voice. “And you still haven’t shown us what we flew halfway around the world to see.”
Butler chuckled.
Calder understood the woman’s frustration; she’d only been here for a few minutes and already she was running low on patience.
“This is Dr. Emily Hart, one of the foremost primatologists in the field; Dr. Trey Payton, an evolutionary anthropologist from the Johann Brandt Institute in Chicago; and Dr. Minh Duan, a world-renowned speleologist whose addition to our expedition was a fortunate stroke of serendipity.”
Calder looked from one face to the next in an effort to piece together the logic behind assembling a team composed of experts with such narrow and disparate areas of expertise.
“I see you’ve all been formally introduced,” a voice she recognized immediately said from behind her. “Shall we get right down to it then?”
III
A fourth Quonset hut had been erected lengthwise behind the first three. They had to pass through a sealed door and walk the length of a corridor lined with security cameras to reach it. The ground vibrated from the masses of equipment running inside, the racket from which was positively deafening. Thyssen had to shout to be heard over it.
“These pumps run day and night. There’s still a significant amount of water down there and we see more and more returning every day as the water table attempts to reestablish a state of equilibrium.” He continued deeper into the dim room, past panels with digital readouts and pressure gauges. “There’s a higher concentration of carbon dioxide down there, so we have to use compressors to force surface air through these tubes and into the cavern. Even then, safety protocol dictates you carry a personal breathing apparatus at all times. Those gasses can build up in toxic levels before you know it.”
The noise made it hard to think. Payton was doing his best to process all of the information being hurled at him in such a short amount of time, while inside he was bouncing around like a kid on Christmas morning. Somewhere beneath his feet was the environment Thyssen had claimed was capable of supporting higher orders of life. The prospect of being one of the first to explore it was exhilarating. It was all he could do to resist the urge to shove through the others and sprint toward the cage suspended above the gaping earthen maw at the far end of the room, around which the building had been erected.
“These generators supply power to the entire station,” Butler shouted. “We have enough fuel in storage tanks outside to power them for more than a year, although we anticipate a
“All of our specialists in one place at the same time,” Butler said. “Trust me when I say that making this happen was a logistical nightmare.”
He laughed in the easy, confident manner of a man accustomed to doing so for an audience.
“Where are my manners? In my excitement I nearly blew right past the introductions. Dr. Brooke Calder, marine biologist for the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, and Ahiga Nabahe, the sociocultural anthropologist responsible for discovering the first of what we like to call around here The Watchers.”
From the corner of her eye, Calder caught Nabahe look curiously at Butler.
“And over here we have our old-timers.” Butler smiled. “You guys have been here what? Half an hour now?”
“Almost.” The woman at the other table wore a red parka, cargo pants, and her long blonde hair in a ponytail. The expression on her face was more carefully guarded than the tone of her voice. “And you still haven’t shown us what we flew halfway around the world to see.”
Butler chuckled.
Calder understood the woman’s frustration; she’d only been here for a few minutes and already she was running low on patience.
“This is Dr. Emily Hart, one of the foremost primatologists in the field; Dr. Trey Payton, an evolutionary anthropologist from the Johann Brandt Institute in Chicago; and Dr. Minh Duan, a world-renowned speleologist whose addition to our expedition was a fortunate stroke of serendipity.”
Calder looked from one face to the next in an effort to piece together the logic behind assembling a team composed of experts with such narrow and disparate areas of expertise.
“I see you’ve all been formally introduced,” a voice she recognized immediately said from behind her. “Shall we get right down to it then?”
III
A fourth Quonset hut had been erected lengthwise behind the first three. They had to pass through a sealed door and walk the length of a corridor lined with security cameras to reach it. The ground vibrated from the masses of equipment running inside, the racket from which was positively deafening. Thyssen had to shout to be heard over it.
“These pumps run day and night. There’s still a significant amount of water down there and we see more and more returning every day as the water table attempts to reestablish a state of equilibrium.” He continued deeper into the dim room, past panels with digital readouts and pressure gauges. “There’s a higher concentration of carbon dioxide down there, so we have to use compressors to force surface air through these tubes and into the cavern. Even then, safety protocol dictates you carry a personal breathing apparatus at all times. Those gasses can build up in toxic levels before you know it.”
The noise made it hard to think. Payton was doing his best to process all of the information being hurled at him in such a short amount of time, while inside he was bouncing around like a kid on Christmas morning. Somewhere beneath his feet was the environment Thyssen had claimed was capable of supporting higher orders of life. The prospect of being one of the first to explore it was exhilarating. It was all he could do to resist the urge to shove through the others and sprint toward the cage suspended above the gaping earthen maw at the far end of the room, around which the building had been erected.
“These generators supply power to the entire station,” Butler shouted. “We have enough fuel in storage tanks outside to power them for more than a year, although we anticipate a
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