The Jian Hua plowed through the dark, choppy waters of the Lingdingyang Bay. Inside the steel bowels of the cargo container, Lei sat in a hollowed-out space between crates of heavy machinery. The darkness was absolute, but his other senses had become hyper-acute.
He felt it before he heard it.
A low, thrumming vibration started in the soles of his feet. At first, he thought it was the ship's massive diesel engines, but the rhythm was wrong. It wasn't a mechanical cycle; it was a pulse. Thrum... thrum-thrum... thrum.
Lei reached into his pouch and pulled out the smooth river stone—the Key of Leda.
The stone was glowing. A faint, bioluminescent violet light pulsed from the seams of the micro-encryptor. It felt warm to the touch, almost feverish. The data wasn't just sitting there; it was evolving. Mei's code, sensing the "Null Signal" he had broadcast from the Pearl Tower, was now adapting to the global network it was trying to reach.
Then came the sound.
A sound that shouldn't exist in the middle of the ocean. It was a long, mournful whale-song, but modulated with the sharp, digital edge of a modem handshake. It echoed through the hull of the ship, amplified by the water surrounding them.
Lei pressed his ear to the cold steel wall of the container. The sound wasn't coming from the ship. It was coming from below.
Under the Jian Hua, in the crushing depths of the South China Sea, something was responding to the Key of Leda. The Ministry of Acoustic Sovereignty hadn't just seeded the cities; they had seeded the maritime trade routes. "Maritime Security Units"—aquatic versions of the Jìngwù—were moving.
Unlike their land-based cousins, these deep-sea variants weren't affected by the Pearl Tower's land-based broadcast. They were the "failsafe" units, and they were tracking the Master Frequency's signature as it moved toward Macau.
CLANG.
A heavy impact shuddered through the ship's hull, far below the waterline. It wasn't a collision with debris. It was a rhythmic, purposeful strike. Something was trying to latch onto the ship.
Lei grabbed his Sonic Pulse Dampener, but the device remained dead, its battery exhausted from the bridge escape. He was defenseless in a metal box, trapped while the predators of the deep began their ascent.
Suddenly, the container's heavy door groaned. The First Mate scrambled inside, his face pale in the violet glow of the stone.
"We have a problem," the man rasped, his eyes darting to the glowing stone. "The sonar is going crazy. There are signatures following us—too fast for sharks, too silent for subs. And the Night Watchers... they didn't stop at the pier."
He pointed to a small monitor he had brought with him. It showed a high-altitude satellite feed. Three high-speed Interceptor Cutters, flying the flags of the MAS "Maritime Safety Division," were converging on the Jian Hua from the north. They weren't asking the ship to stop; they were moving into boarding positions.
"They can't board a ship in international waters without a crisis," Lei said, his voice steady despite the trembling in his hands.
"They aren't looking for a crisis," the First Mate replied, looking down at the vibrating floor. "They're creating one. Whatever is under us... it's going to sink this ship. They'll claim it was a 'rogue creature attack' and 'rescue' the cargo. Which means they rescue you."
Lei looked at the glowing violet stone. It was the beacon. He was the bait.
"How far to Macau?" Lei asked.
"Ten miles to the maritime boundary. If we hit the lights of the Cotai Strip, their 'creatures' won't follow—the acoustic noise of the casinos is too much for them. But we have to survive the next twenty minutes."
Lei stood up, his gaze hardening. He looked at the heavy machinery crates. "We need to make some noise. Not a scream, but a barrier. If these things hunt by frequency, we give them a frequency they can't swallow."
He pointed to the ship's internal intercom system. "Can you patch the Master Frequency audio from this stone into the ship's hull-mounted depth sounders?"
The First Mate's eyes widened. "That'll blow every speaker on the ship. It might even crack the hull welds."
"It's better than being eaten by the things Mei built," Lei said.
As the first of the MAS Cutters fired a warning flare that turned the night sky a blood-red, Lei began to interface the glowing stone with the ship's ancient communication rack. He wasn't just running anymore. He was about to turn the Jian Hua into a floating acoustic bomb.