Page 58 of Claimed By the Deep

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I continue past the harbor toward Fergus's cove, maintaining depth to avoid detection. The construction of our houseboat proceeds there, sheltered from both weather and prying eyes. From my underwater vantage, I can see the hull taking shape on the slipway—larger than typical houseboats to accommodate the specialized moon pool that will allow me to enter directly from the water.

Meri and Fergus have enlisted three retired shipwrights—old friends of Fergus who ask few questions and appreciate generous payment for discretion. They believe they're building anexperimental research vessel with unique requirements. Not entirely false, yet far from the complete truth.

I approach carefully, mindful of potential observers. The afternoon wanes, early winter darkness already descending over the water. At the appointed hour—four-thirty, when the workers have departed—I surface in the small cove to find Meri waiting on the dock despite the biting cold.

She's bundled in layers against winter's assault, auburn hair tucked beneath a wool cap, breath visible in the frigid air. Even through her bulky clothing, I note how physical labor has honed her already strong form. There's a new resolve in her posture, a purpose that transforms exhaustion into determination.

"You came," she says, relief evident in her voice. "I wasn't sure with the storm front moving in."

"Wild horses, as you humans say." I maintain a safe distance, mostly submerged. "How is construction progressing?"

"On schedule, mostly. The moon pool is giving us challenges with the seals, but Tom thinks he's found a solution." She crouches at the dock's edge, eyes searching mine in the fading light. "The workers leave at four now with the shorter days. We have a little time if you want to come up."

The invitation tempts beyond measure, but caution overrides desire. "The researchers have increased their drone deployments. One followed me nearly a mile yesterday before I lost it in the deeper trenches."

Her expression darkens. "They should have been gone by now. No one runs research operations in these waters during winter storms."

"Yet they persist. Which suggests they've found something compelling enough to justify the risk and expense."

"You think they've detected you specifically? Not just anomalous readings?"

"I believe they've established a pattern." I drift closer to the dock, keeping my body beneath the surface. "Their search patterns have narrowed, focusing on areas where we've spent time together. They're triangulating, Meri. Another month of data collection, and they'll have a predictive model accurate enough to anticipate my movements."

She absorbs this, her mind already working through implications. "Then we need to disrupt their pattern. Give them contradictory data."

"Or a more compelling target elsewhere." I've considered this solution for weeks, weighing risks against necessities. "Something dramatic enough to draw them away from these waters entirely."

"What are you thinking?"

"A staged sighting. Something that matches their search parameters but occurs far from here, in waters more amenable to winter research."

She considers this, brow furrowed. "The southern coast? Around the Carolinas? The waters stay warmer there through winter."

"Precisely. A research team already predisposed to believe in unusual marine phenomena would readily relocate if presented with compelling evidence."

"What kind of evidence?"

"Something they can't ignore. Something that appears on their instruments while simultaneously being visually confirmed by reliable witnesses." I've calculated this carefully, assessed variables, identified optimal conditions. "It would require precise timing and coordination, but it's possible."

"And dangerous." Her eyes narrow, seeing through to my unstated intentions. "You're talking about revealing yourself, aren't you? Creating a sighting just convincing enough to draw them away."

"A glimpse only. Enough to intrigue, not enough to confirm." I move closer, though the bitter wind across the water's surface reminds me why emerging fully would be unwise. "A shadow beneath the waves, unusual electromagnetic readings, perhaps a brief surface disturbance—all occurring simultaneously near a populated coastline with regular shipping traffic."

"And what happens when they chase this shadow to the Carolinas and find nothing? They'll just come back here."

"Not if the evidence suggests migration. Marine creatures follow patterns—seasonal movements, feeding routes. If we establish a trajectory moving southward, their scientific methodology would compel them to follow it."

She falls silent, processing the implications. "This would mean you traveling hundreds of miles from here. Throughshipping lanes, past populated coastal areas, into unfamiliar waters."

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Three weeks, perhaps four. Long enough to establish multiple sightings along a convincing trajectory."

Pain flashes across her features, mirroring what I feel at the prospect of additional separation. "That's a long time, Cyreus. And dangerous for you."

"Less dangerous than remaining here while they narrow their search perimeters." I rise enough to take her gloved hand in mine. "The houseboat won't be ready for at least another two months. We need to ensure they're gone before we launch."