Chapter 2 - Echoes Beneath the Ice
The dining hall fell into an absolute, suffocating silence. The ambient chatter of neighboring tables seemed to evaporate, leaving only the low, sterile hum of the overhead ventilation. Lucas remained frozen, his hands still gripping the edges of the metal table, knuckles white. His gaze darted between Sarah’s icy composure and the sudden, unmistakable drain of color from Captain Vance’s weathered face.
“A frequency?” Lucas finally broke the quiet, his voice dropping to a harsh, dangerous whisper. “The North Atlantic anomaly didn’t just emit a frequency, Sarah. It swallowed a multi-billion-dollar destroyer and half my squadron. I flew right through the edge of that electromagnetic wall, and I lost friends. You were sitting behind a desk in Norfolk when you were suspended for chasing ghost signals.”
Sarah didn’t flinch. She stepped closer, invading his personal space with calculated coldness.
“You think I was sitting behind a desk, Lucas? You think the Navy grounded me because I lost my mind?” Sarah’s voice trembled slightly, not with fear, but with a deep, suppressed rage. “I wasn’t chasing ghost signals. I was tracking the exact same acoustic signature that Vance and his black-ops division tried to bury back in nineteen-ninety-eight. The ship didn't vanish because of a storm. It was pulled under.”
Marcus Vance slammed his palm flat against the table. The sharp crack echoed like a gunshot through the hall.
“Enough!” Marcus hissed, his eyes darting frantically toward the nearby officers. “Not here, Lieutenant Commander. You have absolute clearance to destroy your own career, but you will not drag classified naval history into an open mess hall.”
Sarah looked straight into the captain's eyes, a bitter, humorless smile touching the corners of her mouth.
“History has a habit of resurfacing, Captain. Especially when the dead start transmitting on open channels again.”
Lucas stared at them both, his mind racing to connect the impossible dots.
“What are you talking about?” Lucas demanded, stepping out from behind the table. “Who is transmitting?”
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Before either senior officer could answer, the overhead lights flickered violently. A low, bone-rattling vibration shook the floorboards beneath their boots, followed by the emergency klaxon wailing suddenly across the entire naval base.
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