The Descent Path
The excitement of removing Adrian King Sr. was abruptly interrupted by Zara's disturbing report from the deep-sea sonar. Maya stood at the console in the control room of the platform. Her fatigue faded as she focused on the quickly descending blip on the screen, the wreckage of the jet.
"The location," Zara said, pointing to a spot on the grid map far below the platform, "is beyond the continental shelf, dropping into one of the deepest parts of the North Atlantic. It matches exactly with the old Aethel survey markers for the *original* discovery zone, the spot where Elara King found the Scylla Agent."
Maya looked at the label on the outdated chart: Scylla Trench. This name, taken from the Greek monster, felt like a chilling warning.
"Why does that matter?" Maya asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just where the currents took the debris."
"No," Zara said firmly, her gaze steady. "The deep-sea environment here is extremely unstable. Aethel didn't just discover a new organism; they built a containment system here. According to these logs" Zara gestured to the maintenance records found on the rig "the trench floor is covered with pressurized, automated sensors and emitters. It's an Active Biological Monitoring Zone."
The implication was frightening. Adrian King Sr. hadn't only used a mobile containment unit for the Scylla Agent; he had created a complete ecosystem for it at the ocean's floor.
The Pulse of Life
Suddenly, the sonar screen jolted. The concentrated readings of the jet wreckage split into several scattered blips, sinking quickly toward the trench floor.
"The wreckage is breaking up more," Maya observed, her heart weighing heavy.
"Wait," Zara commanded, zooming in on the sonar feed. "One of those signatures... it's not sinking with the others. It's stabilizing."
A small blip, separate from the main debris cluster, came to a halt in its rapid descent. It was holding its position above the trench floor.
"It's the emergency beacon," Maya gasped, tears welling in her eyes. "Adrian's tactical gear. He survived the crash, Zara. He's alive."
"He's in a deep-sea survival suit, using minimal oxygen, but yes," Zara confirmed, relief evident in her tone. "He's alive, Maya. And he's actively trying to keep his depth near the wreckage. He's searching for something."
"The logbook," Maya said immediately. "He knows the briefcase is the key. He's putting everything on the line to get the logbook before it's destroyed by the depths."
Maya glanced at the satellite phone—now lighting up with a sudden flood of encrypted data confirming that the board had voted decisively. Adrian was the CEO, but he was trapped two miles beneath the ocean's surface, fighting for the final piece of evidence.
"He needs to be rescued now," Maya ordered. "Can we reach his private submarine?"
"No. Adrian's personal deep-sea recovery vessel is hours away," Zara replied grimly. "But this platform *is* a supply rig. It has an unmanned, industrial-grade **Deep-Submergence Vehicle (DSV)** meant for maintenance. It's slow, but it can reach those depths."
The Last Call
The new mission was a race against time and depth. While Zara powered up the industrial DSV, Maya sent an encrypted message to the new King Industries board, confirming Adrian's location and the urgent need for rescue.
As she did, the satellite phone chimed with a priority alert an intercepted, encrypted message bypassing all standard firewalls. It was a single, high-resolution photo:
The photo showed a close-up of a laminated page from the **logbook**. The handwriting belonged to Adrian's mother, and the passage was alarming: *"...the secondary containment unit at the trench floor is failing. If the pressure exceeds 4,000 PSI, the entire Scylla Agent culture will destabilize, generating a localized EMP pulse strong enough to disable all naval communication and transport within a 500-mile radius."
The message with the photo was from Adrian King Sr.
A.K. SR.: The logbook is safe, Maya. It's with your beloved CEO. I gave him a chance. Come and retrieve him. You have 90 minutes before the pressure hits 4,000 PSI. The final consequence is mine.*
The realization was horrifying: Adrian Sr. hadn't crashed the plane just to hide the evidence; he had crashed it *over the Scylla Trench*—forcing Adrian and the logbook closer to the massive, unstable secondary containment unit he had set up twenty years ago.
Adrian King Jr. hadn't survived the crash; he had been lured toward his own trap.
"My father is using the secondary Scylla containment unit as a bomb," Adrian realized, relaying the message to Maya. "He's counting on the pressure spike to create a super-EMP. This would destroy us and prevent the U.S. Navy from interfering with his escape."
"We need to go down," Maya said, grabbing an industrial-grade headlamp. "You pilot the DSV, and I'll guide you. We have to secure Adrian and the logbook before the pressure hits 4,000 PSI."
Zara stared at her. "Maya, that DSV is an unmanned supply vehicle! It's not designed for human control, and the pressure will crush a regular diving suit!"
"The platform maintenance bay," Maya countered, recalling the schematics. "It has a specialized, single-occupancy **Atmospheric Diving Suit (ADS)**. It's made for deep-sea repairs. It's our only option."
Descent and Disclosure
Thirty minutes later, the massive, robotic ADS a heavy, articulated metal suit built to withstand extreme pressure was attached to the automated lift platform. Maya, confined in the bulky metal exoskeleton, felt a mix of fear and determination.
Zara operated the DSV, guiding the unmanned submarine that would take the ADS to the descent area.
As the lift started to lower Maya into the dark abyss, she connected her helmet mic to the secure satellite link, speaking to Adrian, who was still communicating via his survival suit's comms.
"Adrian, your father's plan is disastrous," Maya said, her voice faint inside the helmet. "He's using the secondary containment unit in the trench as a bomb. We have 60 minutes before the EMP pulse destabilizes."
"I know," Adrian's voice crackled back, sounding weak but resolute. "I found the main wreckage. The briefcase is stuck to a piece of debris, right above the secondary unit's casing. He knew I'd be drawn to it."
"Why are you still down there, Adrian? Get out!"
"I can't. The logbook is wedged against the secondary unit's casing. If I pull it free, I risk triggering the pressure failure too soon. I need you, Maya. You have to use the DSV's claw to detach the briefcase while I use my suit's cutting torch to secure the unit."
"Secure the unit? How?"
"The last entry in the logbook the one he sent to the board—details a magnetic locking override for the pressure valve," Adrian explained. "If I can activate the magnetic seal, I can stabilize the unit long enough for the pressure to release safely. But I need to cut through two inches of reinforced titanium to reach it."
He was attempting an impossible, life-or-death fix two miles beneath the surface while fighting hypothermia and low oxygen.
"I'm coming, Adrian," Maya promised, the darkness of the ocean swallowing her. "But if I have to choose between the evidence and your life, I choose you."
Adrian's voice, now fading quickly, returned with a final, urgent command.
"The new negotiation, Maya. Remember the rules. We don't negotiate survival. Save the logbook. I'll secure the unit. And Maya..."
"Yes?"
"I love you. Now, bring me the power drill."