The coordinates did not lead me to land, but to the middle of the dark, endless Pacific Ocean. We had chartered an old, rusted cargo ship from a smuggler at a derelict port. A scrap-metal wreck that groaned every time it was struck by a wave. Kael stood at the bow, staring at the horizon with his pistol reloaded, while I sat in the wheelhouse, glued to the hard drive screen that had become our only compass.
This ocean is too vast to find something hidden, Kael shouted over the roar of the sea wind. If they have an underwater city, they must have sonar defense systems that could level this ship in an instant.
They are not looking for surface ships, I replied, my hands moving nimbly across the analog keyboard connected to the drive. They are looking for frequency patterns. That is why we a
