Page 66 of Jewel of the Sea

“In the beginning, I believe at least a handful knew how. But it was not a skill that was passed down through the generations.”

“And the code was all you knew?”

“We learned by the pattern.” He smiled to himself, and moved his finger in the air, pantomiming entry of the code. “Always the same buttons in the same order. Jax and I later realized that we recognized the symbols on the buttons, though they held no meaning to us.”

“I’m glad she was able to teach you.” She turned her attention back to the screens. “Do you think that’s him?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the skeleton. “I do not see a particular resemblance, but it’s possible.”

Aymee stared at him. She waited for the hint of a smile on his lips, for a glint of humor in his eyes, but his expression remained serious.

Arkon furrowed his brow. “What?”

Unable to hold it in, she laughed. As horrible as she felt about it — that had been a living human being, however long ago — it was liberating to find some humor in the situation. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“But...it is true. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, but ofcoursethere’d be no resemblancenow.”

“Hmm.” He glanced at the remains again. “You’re right. Though the bone structure influences a person’s facial features, it is difficult to picture without the overlying musculature and—”

He paused when he saw the smile on her face.

“I think I understand,” Arkon said. “You were amused by the absurdity of my initial response?”

Aymee chuckled and brushed her fingers over his arm. “You’re adorable.”

His skin took on a faint purple tinge. “I do have a tendency to overthink things.”

“I don’t mind, Arkon. It’s what makes you you.” She turned back to the console and swiped her finger down, scrolling through the stills. The numbers on each one, she realized, were dates and times. “These are all marked in Standard Galactic Year. That hasn’t been used on Halora for at least three hundred years.”

Arkon leaned closer to study the numbers on one of the images. “How can you tell?”

“The colonists keep the year based on when our ancestors first landed, three hundred and sixty-one years ago. I think they switched sometime after we stopped receiving supplies from off-world. The only time I’ve seen dates marked like this have been on old medical records and holos from before the colonization.”

“What is the purpose of these images? Are they meant as a record of how this man aged during his time here?”

“No. Some people used holo logs to record information. My father, and many doctors before him, used holos to document new medicines, toxins, and diseases they encountered on Halora. It’s our most reliable means of passing information from one generation to the next, though we’ve had to start writing more and more of it down by hand as the old technology fails.”

She continued to scroll down, then paused and swiped back up. The dates had been spaced out with weeks between them in the beginning, but the more recent ones were recorded closer together — daily entries, sometimes more than one on a single day, and the man’s appearance grew more haggard with each one.

Aymee tapped on the first of the daily logs.

The hologram expanded into a three-dimensional image — it was like looking through a window into the control room, with the man from the image positioned close to the hologram’s edge, his body cut off from the chest down. He was clean-cut, dark brown hair slicked back and his face shaved. He wore a dark blue uniform with silver buttons and trim.

The clothes on the skeleton might have looked the same once, long ago.

“This is Captain James Wright of the Interstellar Defense Coalition, officer number one-five-three-bravo-six,” the man said, “in command of Darrow Nautical Outpost. The date is August twenty-third, SGY 2509.

“Four days ago, we received a series of communications from the offshore underwater facility, Pontus Alpha, indicating a massive security breach. The limited information I have received regarding that incident is detailed in my log dated August nineteenth.

“We have received no further communications from Pontus Alpha since then. Today, at eleven hundred hours, one of the submersibles, theNautilus, appeared on the tracker for thirteen minutes and disappeared. We received a distress message from the crew during that window. I…am currently under official orders not to discuss the contents of said message.”

Wright’s features were strained, and there was a far-off gleam in his eyes — he’d seen something disturbing. Aymee suspected it was humans being killed by kraken. Had he known of their existence before seeing his men slaughtered?

“Since that message, we have been unable to establish further contact. There are no vessels remaining at this location, and therefore I was unable to dispatch a search party.

“At twelve hundred hours, we received official orders from Central Command in Fort Culver. We have been instructed to hold the line against anything that might come and defend the colonists to the last man. Due to the simultaneous declarations of war in eight separate star systems earlier this year, the IDC will not send additional troops or equipment to reinforce our positions. The sensitive nature of the situation at Pontus Alpha has left me unable to brief my soldiers on our enemy and their potential capabilities.

---