"Mutations that affect the future of a particular species are heritable changes in particular sequences of nucleotides. Without these mutations, evolution as we know it wouldn't be possible. For instance, the accidents, errors, and lucky circumstances that caused humans to evolve from lower primates were all mutations. Some mutations lead to dead ends, or extinction of the species. Neanderthal, for instance, was a dead-end mutation. Other mutations can alter the size of a particular genus, creating a new species altogether.
"In the case of Architeuthis dux, here we have a cephalopod, a member of the family teuthid, yet this particular offshoot has evolved into the largest invertebrate on the planet. Is it a mutation? Most certainly. The question is, why did it mutate in the first place? Perhaps as a defense mechanism against huge predators like the sperm whale. Was it a successful mutation or a dead end? Since we know so little about the creatures, it's impossible to say. Then again, who's to say Homo sapiens will be a success?"
The pilot rolled his eyes at my philosophical whims. "We just passed twenty-three hundred feet. Isn't it time you activated that device of yours?"
"Oh, yeah." Reaching to my right, I powered up the lure, sending a series of pulsating clicks chirping through the timeless sea.
I sat back, heart pounding with excitement, waiting for my "dragon" to appear.
"Yo, Jacques Cousteau Junior, it's been six hours. What happened to your giant octopus?"
I looked up at the pilot from behind my copy of Popular Science. "I don't know. There's no telling what kind of range the lure has, or whether a squid's even in the area."
The pilot returned to his game of solitaire. "Not exactly the answer National Geographic'll want to hear."
"Hey, this is science," I snapped. "Nature works on her own schedule." I looked around at the black sea. "How deep are we anyway?"
"Twenty-seven hundred feet."
"Christ, we're not deep enough! I specifically asked for thirty- three hundred feet. Giant squids prefer the cold. We need to be deeper, below the thermocline, or we're just wasting our time."
Lacombe's expression soured, knowing I had him by the short and curlies. "Six to Control. Ace, the kid wants me to descend to thirty-three hundred feet."
"Stand by, Six." A long silence, followed by the expected answer. "Permission granted."
A half mile to the south and eleven hundred fathoms below, the monster remained dead still in the silence and darkness. Fifty-nine feet of mantle and tentacles were condensed within a crevice of rock, its 1,900-pound body ready to uncoil like the spring on a mousetrap.
The carnivore scanned the depths with its two amber eyes, each as large as dinner plates. As intelligent as it was large, it could sense everything within its environment.
The female angler fish swam slowly past the outcropping of rock, dangling her own lure, a long spine tipped with a bioluminous bait. Attached to the underside of the female, wagging like a second tail were the remains of her smaller mate. In an unusual adaptation of sexual dimorphism, the male angler had ended its existence by biting into the body of the female, his mouth eventually fusing with her skin until the two bloodstreams had connected as one. Over time, the male would degenerate, losing his eyes and internal organs, becoming a permanent parasite, totally dependent upon the female for food.
Feeding for two, the female maneuvered her glowing lure closer to the outcropping of rock.
Whap!
Lashing through the darkness like a bungee cord, one of the squid's eighteen-foot feeder tentacles grasped the female angler within its leaf-shaped pad, piercing the stunned fish with an assortment of hooks protruding from its deadly rows of suckers. Drawing its prey toward its mouth, the hunter's parrotlike beak quickly crushed the meat into digestible chunks, its tongue guiding the morsels down its throat, the meat actually passing through its brain on its way to its stomach.
Architeuthis dux pushed its twelve-foot torpedo-shaped head out of its craggy habitat, then swallowed the remains of the angler fish in one gulp.
The giant squid was still hungry, its appetite having been teased over the last eight hours by the sonic lure. Though tempted to rise and feed on what it perceived as the remains of a sperm whale kill, the immense cephalopod had remained below, refusing to venture into the warmer surface waters.
Now, as it finished off the remains of its snack, it detected the enticing presence moving closer, entering the cooler depths.
Hunger overruled caution. Drawing its eight arms free of the fissure, it pushed away from the rocky bottom and rose, its anvil-shaped tail fin propelling it through the darkness, its movements alerting another species in the Sargasso food chain to its presence.
Blip.
Blip… blip… blip…
Donald Lacombe stared at the sonar, playing up the drama for the camera. "It's a biologic, and it's big, headed right for us. Fifteen hundred feet and closing."
"Are we in any danger?" I asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
"I don't know, you're the marine biologist. Nine hundred feet. Stand by, it's slowing. Maybe it's checking us out?"
"It doesn't like the bright lights," I countered. "Switch to red lights only."
The pilot adjusted the outer beams, rotating the lenses to their less-brilliant red filters. "That did it, it's coming like a demon now. Three hundred feet. Two hundred. Better hold on!"
Seconds passed, and then the Massett-6 shuddered, rolling hard to starboard as the unseen beast latched on to our main battery and sled.
My heart pounded, then I nearly jumped out of my shoes when the padded sucker, as wide as a catcher's mitt, snaked its way across the outside of our protective bubble.
Eight more tentacles joined in the dance, each appendage as thick as a fire hose, all moving independently from its still unseen owner.
Even the pilot was impressed. "Jeez-us, you actually did it! And will you look at the size of those tentacles? He must be a monster."
"She," I corrected. "Females grow much larger than males, and this monster's definitely a female."
Ah, the "M" word again. If only I had known…
The pilot flicked the toggle switch on his radio. "Six to Control, break out the bubbly, Ace, we've made contact."
We could hear clapping coming from the control room.
"We're getting the feed. Congratulations, partner," David broke in over the radio, "we did it."
"Yeah, we," I mumbled.
The sound of wrenching aluminum caused me to jump. "What was—"
"Stand by." Lacombe seemed genuinely concerned, and that worried me. At three thousand feet, water pressure is a hundred times greater than at the surface, meaning even the slightest breach in our hull would kill us in a matter of seconds.
What if she tears loose a plate? What if she breaks open a seal?
The thought of drowning sent waves of panic crawling through my belly.
"Hey!" Hank aimed his camera at one of the video monitors. The grainy gray picture revealed an impossibly large tubular body and the edge of one gruesome eye, as massive as an adult human's head. Several of the squid's tentacles were tugging at the sealed lid on one of the collection baskets.
"She's only after the fish," I declared, praying I was right. The creature tore the lid off the steel basket as if it were a child's toy, releasing 200 pounds of salmon to the sea.