The Deepest Part of the Ocean is Not Empty

It started as a legend. Whispers of a cult in the Pacific that was secretly mapping the ocean. They claimed that the sea was shorter than the horizon made it out to be, and that with the proper charts you could sail straight through it. These were just stories of course. The kind of thing you hear from a grizzled old sailor after too many beers. Still though, I’d heard the stories enough that when I first set out to sea as a teenager, I couldn’t help but wonder. What was on the other side of the horizon? What wonders waited just past our understanding? As a young man, the sea was an unfathomable world of mystery and intrigue. Her waters took me in when my own home wasn’t safe. She fed me when I was hungry, protected me when I was weak, and comforted me when I was alone. I loved her, and with that love came the will to protect her from anyone who would do her harm. That’s why I joined the Navy as soon as I was of age. I saw myself as a soldier, not just for my country, but for the sea as well. It didn’t take long for me to realize just how much the ocean needed protecting either. Like the rest of the planet, she was groaning under the weight of human greed and neglect. Pollution, overfishing, climate change. It was overwhelming, in the same way that the sea itself could be overwhelming. Still, I had a job to do, and so I worked hard to do it. To keep her safe from those who would exploit her. To keep her clean. To keep her healthy. I spent most of my adult life on the water, keeping her safe. Slowly but surely though, the tide of my feelings changed. The more I saw of humanity, the more I hated them. I hated how selfish they were. How cruel. I hated how they treated the ocean, the planet, and each other. The sea had protected me as a child, but as an adult it was my turn to protect her. From humans. That mindset, one of animosity and distrust, is what ultimately led me to her. To the place on the other side of the horizon. To the deepest part of the ocean. It happened on my last deployment. In my early 40s now, I was a veteran of the sea. I’d spent more than half my life on her waters, and I’d grown to despise humans even more with each passing day. I was a Captain by then, in charge of a destroyer. It was a small crew, but a tight knit one. We operated in the Pacific, near Japan, protecting a small port city from the growing threat of China. It was a boring deployment, all things considered. Lots of patrols, with nothing ever happening. The highlight of the day was inevitably the mail from home, and even that wasn’t always a pleasure. One day though, something did happen. One of my own crew went mad, and that madness changed my life forever. He was a young boy. An enlisted man who’d never spent time on the water before. He was still adjusting, and I could tell he wasn’t taking it well. Some people can’t handle the close quarters of a ship at sea. They break after a while, and this kid had just broken. It was noon, and we’d just finished lunch. Some of the crew were cleaning up the galley, while others were heading back to their stations. This kid, his name was Davies, he was already at his post. He was in charge of the radar, monitoring the waters around us for any movement. “Contact,” he said. Even from across the room I could hear the tension in his voice. I walked over to him. He was staring intently at his screen, his eyes fixed on it with a mix of confusion and fear. “Captain, there’s a boat heading our way. Identification unknown.” I looked down at the screen. There it was, a small blip that was moving quickly through the water. I was immediately on high alert, my training taking over. “Try to hail them. Find out who they are and what they want.” He tried, but there was no answer. Whoever they were, they didn’t seem to be acknowledging our presence. “Rescan their signature. Try to get an ID.” Davies did as he was told, his hands shaking as he worked the computer. After a few minutes, the answer came back. And with it, Davies lost his mind. “Identification unknown… Identification unknown… I… I don’t understand. What the FUCK is this?!” He was screaming now. He brought his fist down on the console in front of him, shattering the glass covering the screen. I was shocked, but I knew I had to act. I called for SECURITY, and my chief of staff rushed over. He helped me sedate Davies and lock him in the infirmary. The kid wouldn’t stop screaming though. He was screaming about the radar. About the unknown contact. “What is this? Why can’t we identify it?” He kept yelling it, over and over again, his voice growing hoarse from the effort. I stayed by his side, trying to calm him down until the sedatives kicked in. As I sat there, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. Who was this unknown contact? Why were they heading towards us? I got my answer shortly after Davies passed out. The sun was starting to set then, casting an orange glow over the water as it dipped below the horizon. It was beautiful, in a tragic kind of way. I knew that we were in danger. I just didn’t know how much. “Captain, the contact is within eyesight. Bearing 270 degrees.” I rushed out onto the deck, my chief of staff following close behind. The crew was already up in the tower, looking out at whatever was approaching. I didn’t need to see it to know it was coming straight for us. I could hear its engines, the sound echoing across the water as it barreled towards us. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I could see it. It was a small boat. Not much bigger than a dingy. A fishing vessel, by the looks of it, painted in a white and blue that was starting to chip. It was moving fast though. Faster than any boat should have been able to move. “Can we communicate with them?” I said, trying to keep my voice even. My chief of staff shook his head. “Still trying. Whoever that is, they’re not answering our calls.” I growled in frustration. What was this? Was China sending spies now? Were the North Koreans trying to attack? “Shoot across their bow. See if that gets their attention.” I ordered. “SHOT ACROSS THE BOW!” my chief of staff yelled. We fired a flare into the water, just ahead of the approaching boat. It detonated harmlessly in front of it, but still the boat didn’t slow. Whoever was driving, they were either very brave or very dumb. I squinted, trying to see who was on the boat. There was only one person, sitting in the rear of the craft near the steering column. They were wearing a coat and a wide brimmed hat, making it impossible to see their face. “Fire on them,” I ordered, trying to keep my voice down. “FIRE ON THEM,” my chief of staff repeated. We shot at the boat then. We shot straight at the driver, trying to disable the craft. Whoever it was though, they were a good dodger. They wove between the bullets, avoiding every shot but one. That bullet was the turning point. Whoever was driving, they slowed the boat slightly after being hit. Just enough that we could see their face. It was a woman. Old, probably in her 70s. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. She was staring straight at us now, her eyes narrowed as she approached. I was unnerved, to say the least. “Identify her.” I said. “Trying.” My chief of staff worked the computer as the woman approached. A few minutes passed before he found what he was looking for. “Captain, she’s American. Her name is—“ “Admiral Elizabeth Leigh.” I finished, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t believe it. Of course I knew the name, but the face came rushing back now. I’d seen her a few times. I’d even met her once when I first joined the Navy. Admiral Elizabeth Leigh was an old sea dog. A real veteran. She’d spent decades on the ocean, and had become a legend in her own right for her bravery and cunning. I’d assumed she was dead though. She’d been missing for years, ever since her last deployment had ended in disaster. There were whispers that she’d gone rogue; that she’d become disillusioned with the Navy and the country she served, and had abandoned ship to go her own way. It wasn’t until that day, staring at her wrinkled face, that I realized those whispers had been true. “Hail her.” I said. My chief of staff worked the radio. “Admiral Leigh. Can you hear us?” She didn’t answer at first. She just kept staring me down, a small smile on her lips. It sent shivers down my spine, to be honest. This was a woman who had gone through Hell and back. There was something “off” about her, something that made me afraid. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she responded. “I can hear you, Captain. I’ve been looking for

The Deepest Part of the Ocean is Not Empty

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