Before the squad could go down the spiral stairway into Vault 4, the sea behind them began to churn with a terrifying, rhythmic pulse.
Arthur turned on the dark rock threshold, his hand instantly dropping to the grip of his ARC-7.
Out of the deep trench canyon to their south, an entire migration of deep-sea trench-wyrms was emerging. These were Titanoboa bathypelagica. Huge blind serpents that had inhabited the Kermadec Trench since the earth-shaking plates first fractured. Each beast was longer than a naval cruiser, their pale, semi-clear bodies rippling with rows of thick, muscular ridges that pushed hundreds of tons of water with every stroke.
They weren’t attacking. They were fleeing.
Arthur’s monocle swept across the herd, analyzing their body metrics.
“Heart rates raised to four times normal,” Arthur reported, his voice tight. “Severe panic response. Something in the deeper trenches has displaced them from their feeding grounds.”
The lead wyrm was barreling straight toward the spiral stairway opening. At its current speed of forty knots, the eight-hundred-ton monster would smash the ancient iron-hard metal gate into rubble, collapsing the entrance to Vault 4 before the squad could step inside.
“We can’t let them destroy the pylon,” Arthur said. “Killing fourteen apex specimens will contaminate the trench with blood and draw every void scavenger within fifty leagues. Grimm, step forward.”
