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Let’s check the computer data bank, and see if we can’t get you an exact genus.”

Moore looked to his watch, while the Hewitfs medical officer reached over to address his keyboard.

It took a full minute for the monitor screen to blink alive, and Moore wondered if he shouldn’t wait to continue this portion of the investigation back in Washington.

Sensing his impatience. Lieutenant Weatherford did his best to calm Moore’s anxieties, all the while efficiently addressing the keyboard.

“Hang in there, Commander. I’ve just got to access the right source, and we’ll get you that answer. While we’re waiting for it to key up, I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that our patient is doing just fine. His pulse rate’s back to normal, and as of ten minutes ago, he was still out cold.”

“What do you think it was that caused him to have those strange delusions?” asked Moore, whose eyes never left the blank, green-tinted screen.

Weatherford thought a moment before answering.

“I don’t know, maybe Seaman Morgan’s experiencing post-traumatic shock syndrome. It’s also very apparent that he’s feeling his fair share of guilt for being the only one of his shipmates left behind.”

The computer beeped a single time, and Weatherford turned his attention back to the monitor.

“Ah, here we go.”

The screen filled with what appeared to be a page from a botany textbook. A number of detailed specimen sketches were included in this text, and Weatherford scanned several pages of the document until he found what he was looking for.

“I believe that this is our baby. What do you think, Commander?”

Moore peered over his shoulder and viewed an almost exact duplicate of the sample that he had been attempting to identify.

“That’s it, all right. What is it. Doc?”

The physician hastily read the text that accompanied the sketch and wondrously observed.

“So that’s why it looked so familiar. It’s nothing but common sargassum, otherwise known as gulfweed.”

“But that can’t be,” countered Thomas Moore.

“I thought sargassum was only found in the Atlantic Ocean.”

The medical officer looked back to his monitor screen like he was seeing a ghost. “The text concurs with you. Commander. Sargassum is indigenous to the Atlantic — which means that unless someone is playing one hell of a sick practical joke on us, we’ve got us one strange mother of a mystery on our hands!”

6

After the day’s work had been completed, it was the custom of the occupants of Starfish House to convert the dining area of the habitat into a motion-picture theater. Lisa would prepare the popcorn, and the aquanauts would sit back to enjoy a movie selected from their video cassette library. Afterwards, with the room still blackened, they would often turn on the exterior spotlights, and watch a fascinating show of a vastly different sort take place right outside the habitat’s observation window.

Attracted by the unnatural light, the stars of this live performance were hundreds of species of colorful reef fish. And most of the time, their spellbound audience would watch them glide by until the wee hours of the morning.

Instead of a Hollywood spectacle, Ivana Petrov chose for this evening’s entertainment a film that both she and Pierre Lenclud had directly participated in making. Its characters were thousands of shuffling lobsters that covered the sandy sea floor in a single, orderly file.

“Exactly where did you say this event occurred?” asked Tomo, his popcorn all but forgotten.

“We first turned on Misha’s video camera at a depth of nine hundred and seventy-six feet,” answered the Russian.

“That put us well onto the southern slope of the Andros Trench, near the northern terminus of the Tongue of the Ocean.”

Lisa Tanner shook her head in wonder.

“At the very least you could have brought back a dozen or so of those beauties to Starfish House. Why my mouth’s watering just lookin’ at all those meaty tails!”

“I’ve read about such phenomena occurring before,” admitted Tomo.

“But this is the first time that I’ve ever seen it with my own eyes.”

“Is it a mating ritual?” questioned Lenclud, between sips of his sherry.

“That it is. Commandant,” replied Tomo.

“The behavior in this instance is much like that of the spawning salmon, though to my knowledge the actual breeding ground of the spiny lobster has yet to be found.”

“And here we were so close to discovering it,” reflected Ivana, a hint of disappointment flavoring her tone.

“I’m anxious to see the first pictures of your other discovery, Dr. Petrov,” said Karl Ivar, who had been seated at the back of the room, casually dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans and a Save the Whales T-shirt.

“They’ll be coming up very shortly,” returned Ivana.

“And I guarantee you that you won’t be disappointed with them,” added Lenclud.

“I must admit that I was a skeptic at first. But after personally seeing the formation, my instincts tell me that it’s got to be man-made. But I’ll let each one of you come to your own conclusions, once you see the film we brought back.”

Bored by the seemingly endless procession of lobsters that continued to fill the video screen. Lisa Tanner let her thoughts wander to a much more exotic subject.

“I sure wish that Misha hadn’t broken down. Who knows, that road could have led you right to the front gates of Atlantis.”

“If that’s the case, the fabled lost continent lies somewhere in the Tongue of the Ocean,” offered Ivana lightly.

“Because that appeared to be right where the road was headed when we were forced to turn back.”

“Speaking of Misha, what’s your exact prognosis on its condition, Karl Ivar?” questioned Tomo.

The Norwegian solemnly shook his head.

“Right now, it doesn’t look all that good. Without a proper alternator, I can’t get Misha to hold a battery charge. We’ve already gone through three spares, and even if they send down another, it won’t make much difference, unless it’s of a totally new design.”

“Couldn’t we borrow one of the other diving saucers?” asked Lisa.

“It’s a shame to have to stop our exploration right when it’s getting so interesting.”

“Since the Academician Petrovsky carries two of these vessels, I asked for the services of one of them in my dispatch,” informed Ivana.

“And now we’ll just have to wait and see if fate is on our side.”

Lenclud excitedly pointed towards the screen.

“Look, there are the first video pictures of Dr. Petrov’s latest discovery, the Andros road!”

All eyes went to the screen, as it began filling with a wide-angle shot of a section of the flat, rocky pavement that had originally sent them down into the depths. Though it was partially covered with sandy sediment, the tightly interlocking, square-cut stones were clearly visible, prompting an instant response from the habitat’s head cook.

“It’s simply incredible! Its origin has to be Atlantean.

Who else could have built it? I tell you, mates, this goes to prove that Plato was right after all.”

A bell suddenly chimed three times in the distance, and Uige came flying into the room with feathers madly flapping. The parrot picked the top of the video projector for its landing pad, all the while loudly squawking.

“Dolly’s home! Yes siree, Dolly’s home! Hello, Dolly!”

“I bet she’s got an answer to my request,” said Ivana.

“Or maybe she’s brought the spare part that I need to fix Misha,” offered Karl Ivar.

Without further hesitation, both stood and darted off to the adjoining ready room. With his curiosity also aroused, Lenclud joined them.