The submarine pressed forward, its reinforced hull creaking faintly as the pressure increased. Outside, the acidic ocean glowed with an eerie red hue, the murk swirling in unnatural patterns. The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on all of us, and even the AI's calm updates did little to ease the tension.
Tom’s voice broke the uneasy silence. “Uh, Mark, Diego… you might want to look at this.”
I turned to see him pointing at the container holding the regenerating flesh. The acid inside, once a translucent, pale red, had turned a deep crimson, significantly darker than what was outside. It churned and bubbled faintly as if reacting to the flesh itself.
“What the hell?” Diego muttered, stepping closer. “It’s like it’s… bleeding.”
“It’s more than that,” Tom said, his voice tinged with a mix of fascination and alarm. He tapped a few commands into the scanner mounted on the container’s base. “Look at these readings. Iron levels are spiking off the charts. And this container doesn't have any dissolvable iron in it, except for… well, blood of this thing.”
A cold chill ran down my spine. “Wouldn't that mean… the red tint out there… is the same as this? Blood?”
Tom nodded grimly. “Yeah. But here’s the thing: if it’s enough to turn an entire ocean red, there has to be a massive source of it nearby. Bigger than anything we’ve seen.”
Diego’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening. “And that means more of… this,” he said, gesturing to the writhing flesh in the container. “Bigger pieces. Maybe even something whole.”
The weight of his words settled over us like a lead blanket. I stared at the container, the flesh inside pulsating faintly as if it had a heartbeat. The acid continued to bubble around it, the blood-red hue almost glowing under the lab’s sterile lights.
“We need to alert Mission Control,” I said finally, forcing my voice to stay steady. “If this stuff is alive, and it’s spread across the ocean, they need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Tom hesitated, glancing at the sonar screen. “What if it’s not just spread across the ocean?” he asked quietly. “What if it’s connected?”
Diego crossed his arms, his face set in a grim scowl. “Connected or not, it’s bad news.”
I nodded, my hands gripping the console as the sub continued its descent. The AI’s voice broke through the tense silence.
“Captain Mark, distance to signal origin is now 1.5 kilometers. The concentration of iron particles in the surrounding water continues to increase. Estimated density exceeds sustainable biological output for a single organism.”
Diego scoffed. “So, what? There’s a factory pumping this stuff out?”
“No,” Tom said, his eyes fixed on the container. “It’s not a factory. It’s the flesh. There has to be something down here producing it, something massive.”
“Or multiple somethings,” I muttered under my breath. The thought sent another shiver down my spine.
The hum of the sub’s engines grew louder as the AI adjusted our trajectory, bringing us closer to the source of the signal. The red-tinted water outside grew darker, swirling with unnatural currents that seemed almost alive. Every creak of the hull felt magnified, every shadow a potential threat.
“We’re getting closer,” Diego said grimly, his hand resting on the hilt of his utility knife as if it would make a difference in the face of what awaited us.
“Closer to what?” Tom muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His fingers tapped nervously against the console, his eyes darting between the sonar screen and the container.
I didn’t have an answer for him. None of us did. All we could do was press forward and hope we were ready for whatever was waiting in the depths.
The silence in the submarine grew heavier with each passing moment, broken only by the faint hum of the engines and the occasional ping from the sonar. The murky red of the acidic ocean outside seemed to seep into the air itself, staining everything with a sense of foreboding. Diego leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, while Tom stared intently at the monitor, tracking the elusive signal.
The AI's voice broke the tension. "Incoming communication from Mission Control. Priority one."
I straightened, glancing at Diego and Tom before tapping the console. The screen blinked to life, and the mission controller’s face appeared, her expression tense and serious.
“Captain Mark,” she began, skipping the pleasantries, “we’ve received an unexpected communication regarding your mission. It’s from an unauthorized source, a group of scrappers claiming to have been working on Narix-6.”
Tom’s brow furrowed. “Scrappers? But scrapping is illegal. They might as well be turning themselves in.”
“Yes,” the controller replied, her tone sharp. “But they’ve reached out despite the risks. Their message was fragmented, and their English was poor, but they were adamant about one thing: there’s something extremely dangerous on the planet.”
Diego leaned forward, his expression dark. “They went out of their way to warn us?”
The controller nodded. “Yes. They claim the danger is tied to the flesh you discovered. According to them, the flesh isn’t just scattered, it's part of something… larger. Something alive.”
My stomach tightened. “And the beacon we found earlier?”
“That beacon was transmitting an evacuation signal,” she explained. “The scrappers used it to warn all the other scrappers about the danger before it was destroyed.”
Diego clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “So, what are you telling us to do? If this thing’s as dangerous as they’re saying, we’re going to need more than limited power.”
“You’re right,” the controller said. “Mission Control is lifting certain restrictions on your submarine. The onboard AI now has clearance to activate additional reactors, power up energy shields, and enable weapon systems if the situation warrants it. It won't even have to go through us now.”
I glanced at the AI’s interface. “What’s the catch?”
The controller sighed. “The catch is that we can’t provide much more information. The scrappers’ transmission was incomplete, and their descriptions were… vague at best. But if they were willing to risk contacting us, it’s serious. Proceed with caution, Captain.”
“Understood,” I replied. “We’ll report back as soon as we reach the signal.”
The screen flickered off, leaving us in the oppressive quiet once more. Diego let out a long breath, his hand running over his shaved head. “Illegal scrappers risking their necks to warn us. That’s a new one.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“Doesn’t inspire confidence,” Tom muttered, his fingers dancing nervously over the console. “I mean, what the hell could be bad enough to spook them like that?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned my focus back to the sonar, where the signal pulsed steadily. We were closing in, but the dread in my chest only grew heavier.
The submarine continued its descent, the red-tinted water thickening around us like a blood-soaked veil. The AI’s calm updates guided us closer to the signal, but the unease in the cabin was palpable. Diego stared out the window, his expression unreadable, while Tom muttered calculations under his breath, his gaze darting between monitors.
Then the AI’s voice broke the quiet. “Captain, we are now within one kilometer of the signal’s origin. Scans indicate the presence of additional power sources, consistent with the data collected on previous scans. Additionally, the concentration of iron particles in the water has reached critical levels.”
Tom’s head snapped up. “Critical? How much iron are we talking about?”
“Analysis suggests levels consistent with the biological output of multiple large organisms,” the AI replied.
Diego let out a low whistle. “So, there’s more of that flesh nearby. A lot more.”
“Great,” Tom muttered. “Just what we needed.”
The submarine slowed as the AI adjusted our trajectory, bringing us closer to the signal. Outside, the red murk grew thicker, swirling with an almost deliberate rhythm. The sound of the engines felt muted, as if the oppressive environment were dampening everything, even sound.
“Captain,” the AI said, “we are now approaching the signal’s exact location.”
My pulse quickened as I leaned forward, my eyes fixed on the monitor. The sonar pinged steadily, marking the source of the signal just ahead. But as we drew closer, the murky water seemed to press against us, obscuring the view.
“Tom,” I said, my voice tight. “What’s the status on visual?”
“Still limited,” he replied, squinting at the screen. “The red tint is messing with the cameras. I’m trying to enhance the feed.”
Diego shifted in his seat, his hand instinctively resting on his utility knife. “Something’s not right. I can feel it.”
“You’re not the only one,” I muttered.
The sub’s lights pierced the crimson haze, illuminating faint shapes in the distance. The signal grew stronger, its pulsing rhythm almost hypnotic. And then, just beyond the edge of visibility, something massive began to take shape.
“Captain,” the AI said, its tone uncharacteristically grave. “We are detecting anomalous structures ahead. Preliminary analysis suggests these structures are biological in nature.”
Diego leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Biological? Like the flesh?”
“Yes,” the AI confirmed. “But significantly larger.”
The blood drained from Tom’s face. “How much larger?”
The AI paused before responding. “Unable to determine full dimensions. The structure extends beyond current scanning capabilities.”
A heavy silence fell over the cabin as the implications sank in. I gripped the console, my knuckles white.
“Bring us in closer,” I said finally, my voice low but steady. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
The submarine crept forward, its external lights piercing through the dense red haze of the acidic ocean. Every meter brought us closer to the source of the signal, and with it, a mounting sense of dread. The scanner pinged faintly, marking the anomaly’s location, but the visuals on the monitor were a mess of swirling crimson shadows.
“Slow us down,” I ordered, my voice tight. “I don’t want to run into this thing blind.”
The AI responded instantly, reducing the sub’s speed. “Velocity reduced. Current distance to the signal: 200 meters.”
Tom tapped furiously at his console, trying to enhance the visuals. Diego shifted in his seat, finishing up a prayer before saying “Maybe we don’t want to see what’s out there.”
“Too late for that,” I muttered, leaning forward as the faint outlines of something massive began to appear on the monitor.
At first, it was just a shadow, an impossibly large silhouette looming in the distance. Then, as we inched closer, the sub’s lights caught on the jagged edges of what looked like bone. The structure was enormous, spanning well beyond the edges of the screen, and its shape was unmistakably that of a human ribcage.
Tom’s breath hitched. “Is that…?”
“Ay dios mío, a ribcage,” Diego said grimly, finishing the thought. His voice was flat, but his eyes betrayed his unease. “But that can’t be real. Nothing biological grows this big.”
The lights panned over the skeletal structure, illuminating the cracked and jagged sternum at its center. It was split clean down the middle, the two halves shifting faintly as though the entire ribcage were alive and breathing.
“Oh my God,” Tom whispered, his voice trembling.
The AI chimed in, its calm tone at odds with the scene unfolding before us. “The biological structure is consistent with the tissue sample collected earlier. Multiple regenerative processes are occurring simultaneously.”
“Regenerating?” Diego growled, his gaze locked on the massive ribs. “That thing’s healing itself?”
“All the evidence points to it,” the AI replied. “The sternum appears to function as a hinge, allowing the ribcage to open and close.”
I stared at the screen, my stomach churning. “Open and close like… a mouth?”
“Or a trap,” Diego muttered darkly.
As if in response, the ribcage shifted, the halves of the sternum grinding together with a low, bone-deep groan that reverberated through the water. The movement revealed the writhing mass within a seething tangle of tendrils, thousands of them, sprouting from the inner walls of the ribcage. They coiled and twisted like living snakes, their movements disturbingly deliberate.
“It isn't just tendrils in there,” Tom said, his voice barely audible. “They’re wrapping around something.”
I squinted at the screen, my heart pounding as I realized he was right. The tendrils weren’t just moving aimlessly, they were coiled tightly around several objects lodged within the ribcage. As the sub’s lights swept over the scene, the details became clearer. Among the tangled mass, we could make out the twisted remains of a spacecraft—the missing vessel we’d been sent to find.
“There it is,” I said, my voice hoarse. “The ship.”
Diego shook his head, his jaw tight. “What the hell is it doing with it?”
Before anyone could answer, the ribcage shifted again, the tendrils tightening their grip on the ship and other debris. The lights caught on something else then, something even more grotesque, a series of elongated, neck-like appendages extending from the ribcage’s exterior. At their ends were what could only be described as heads, humanoid in shape but utterly alien.
The heads were smooth, featureless save for a vertical slit running down the center. The slit opened slowly, revealing a jagged mouth lined with teeth that extended far deeper than should have been possible. A second, horizontal mouth intersected the first, forming the shape of an upside-down T.
Diego’s face went pale, his hand reaching up to his cross necklace. “No… no! ?Sácanos de aquí! Get us out of here!”
“It’s a monster,” Tom whispered, his voice shaking. “A goddamn monster.”
The AI’s voice broke through the rising panic. “Captain, the submarine’s energy shields are now online. Additional antimatter reactor has been activated to provide supplementary power.”
The sub’s hull hummed with renewed energy as the shields snapped into place, the faint blue glow barely visible through the crimson water.
“We’re not sticking around to find out what else this thing can do,” I said, my voice sharp. “AI, calculate a safe distance from this… creature. Maintain visual contact but keep us out of reach.”
“Course adjusted,” the AI replied. “Repositioning now.”
As the sub began to back away, the creature seemed to sense our movement. The heads turned in unison, their mouths opening wider as a low, the same screeching from earlier sound echoed through the water. The tendrils inside the ribcage writhed faster, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire ocean were alive, pulsing in time with the monster’s grotesque rhythm.
Diego crossed himself, his lips moving silently in prayer. Tom stared at the screen, his hands trembling as he adjusted the focus on the cameras.
“We need to report this,” Tom said, his voice cracking. “Mission Control has to know what’s down here.”
“They’ll know,” I said firmly. “But first, we need to make sure we survive long enough to tell them.”
The creature loomed larger on the screen as we continued to retreat, its enormous form blending into the swirling red fog. For a moment, it seemed to hesitate, the tendrils slowing their frantic movements. Then, with a sudden, violent jerk, it opened its ribcage wide, revealing the full extent of the twisted, writhing horror within.
“Full reverse!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos. “Get us the hell out of here!”
The AI complied, the sub’s engines roaring to life as we pulled away from the monstrous ribcage. But even as we gained distance, the creature’s presence lingered, a looming shadow in the blood-red abyss.
