Athena announces, "Large sonar blip detected at mark 180. Approaching at 18 knots. Should pass directly under us in 10 seconds."
After boasting about her reaction times outpacing any human, the crew—Spyder, Wayne, and Vanessa—had agreed to give Athena full control of the foils. They should’ve seen it coming. Spyder orders, "Athena, take the helm, bring the boat onto the foils, full speed ahead, let’s at least TRY to catch up and see what this thing even is."
Athena immediately responds, "Aye, Captain!" The boat lurches forward as Wayne and Vanessa, unprepared, get thrown back.
Vanessa chimes in from the floor, "It’s Champ!" Spyder smirks, "Whatever it is."Athena asks, "Would now be a good time to discuss seat belts, or maybe a *No Smoking* sign?"
The Dauntless tears across Lake Champlain, hydrofoils slicing the water into twin rooster tails that spray like a wild squall. Engines roared, a fierce pulse matching the crew’s racing hearts. Sonar pinged with urgency, locking onto a titanic shadow gliding beneath—not fleeing, not this time. Moving steady, deliberate. Watching. Waiting.
Athena interrupts, "Update: sonar reports depth decreasing. Object is ascending to the surface. For an I-witness update, might I suggest looking out the window."
Spyder’s grip tightened on the helm, eyes narrowed on the dark ripples ahead, chasing a legend that loomed ever closer. The boat thrummed with raw energy, hydrofoils skimming the surface’s edge. Excitement buzzed like a storm brewing in the night.
Vanessa clung to her console, eyes half-shut, her breath catching. A flood hit—not words, but something at the edge of vision: ancient lakes under twin moons, hatchlings weaving through a vast purple sky, a safe haven. Then, a shadow—cold, formless, clawing to follow her young. Guard them.
Vanessa’s voice quivered, barely a whisper. “She’s not from here. She’s showing me… another world. Her babies need to get there, to a safe place. But something’s waiting. Something... bad. It tries to follow them. She’s begging us to keep it out.”
Wayne snatched her coffee cup from the console, giving it a theatrical sniff. “What's in this coffee anyway?”
Vanessa pulled her phone from her jacket and said, "Athena, please put this on the main screen." A large display folded down from the ceiling, covering the front window—typically used for radar, sonar, and FLIR in fog—projecting the image of a massive, scarred creature rising from the depths, its ancient eyes gleaming like a lantern in the dark. “Look at this! I snapped it last night—proof she’s real. Call her Champ, because that’s what she feels like. This isn’t my head spinning stories!”
Wayne gaped, squinting at the photo, then back at the sonar. “Wait, this was outside last night and you didn’t say anything? Looks like a dinosaur’s grumpy grandpa. So, I don't suppose Champ is giving you any ideas on how to deal with this thing?”
Vanessa’s eyes flared, tears welling. “I’m not imagining it, Wayne. It’s her—her fear, her hope, screaming in my head. Clearer than words. She’s desperate.”
Wayne jabbed a finger at the sonar, its blip throbbing like a heartbeat. “Yo, Ness, she’s slowing down—matching us. Did you do that?”
Spyder eased the throttle, the Dauntless syncing with the shadow’s pace. “No, Champ did that,” he said, shaking his head, tracing the photo’s jagged scars. “I’ve chased weird stuff on this lake—lights in the fog, shapes that vanish. But this? A sea monster? It looks like a giant waterlogged horse." He pauses for a moment, then adds "I hope it's not hungry”
Vanessa’s voice steadied, fierce. “It’s real. She’s showing me her young, her home. She needs us to listen.”
Athena’s voice crackled through the comms, soft but alert. “Velocity now comparable to Dauntless. Anomaly maintaining… formation? I’m detecting a low-frequency hum from the entity—possibly a biological signal. We could use the hydrophone array to analyze it, and possibly confirm Vanessa’s connection.”
Wayne snorted, “So we’re gonna record a monster’s bedtime story? Is Champ giving you any ideas on how to deal with this... thing?"
Vanessa’s voice cut through. “Wayne, she’s begging. Her babies won’t make it if that thing gets through. Please, let’s figure out what she needs!”
Spyder’s eyes narrowed, cross-checking the sonar’s rhythm with the photo’s stark clarity. “Wayne, Bro, I’ve run this lake for years. You don’t survive by pretending what yer seeing ain’t real. That sonar shadow’s out there. Ness’s picture shows… something. I’m not saying I believe it, but I’m willing to find out.”
Wayne rubbed his neck, his grin twisting into a grimace. “Alright, fine, it’s legit. Do we help? We’re not The Avengers. What if this ‘dark thing’ decides we’re on the menu?”
Vanessa softened, almost pleading. “She’s not asking us to fight. Just… stand guard. Keep her babies safe.”
Athena offers, “A suggestion: if Vanessa’s connection is measurable, the hydrophones could capture the entity’s signal—perhaps a vibration or energy pattern. It would validate her experience and guide our approach.”
Wayne threw up his hands, chuckling dryly. “So we just hover here, hope the cosmic boogeyman takes a nap, and… what? Bug her vibes with a fish finder? This is why I stick to engines.”
Spyder’s face set, his voice firm. “We start by proving it’s real. Athena, rig the hydrophones to track that hum you’re picking up. Vanessa, stay on her signal—tell us what she’s saying. Wayne, get FRED ready for a scout run. Tether him tight, nonlethal gear only. We’re not here to hurt her.”
Wayne grabbed a toolkit, muttering. “Scouting for Champ with a robot and a microphone. My Dad’s gonna frame this in the ‘What the hell, Wayne?’ hall of fame.”
Vanessa’s gaze drifted to Champ, her massive head breaking the surface, eyes ancient and steady, reflecting a sky thick with stars. “She trusts us. I don’t know why, but… I won’t let her down.”
Spyder rested a hand on the throttle, voice quiet but resolute. “If the universe hands you a job this wild, you don’t ask why. You show up. And then you wonder how to help.” The Dauntless drifted, engines idling, as Champ glided closer, her presence a silent command.
After Dauntless slows beside Champ, all is thrumming, oddly quiet. Even Athena dials down her commentary. Vanessa grips the rail, eyes half-shut. What comes isn’t a voice but a flood:
Bursting water—this lake, and another, vast and misty (Loch Ness). A sense of movement—not swimming, but stepping through an unseen rip, the world changing and realigning.
Countless tiny shapes—births. Eggs and hatchlings traveling through impossible rifts between worlds. There are two moons in the sky… purple clouds… peace.
But. A darkness, shapeless, waiting. Pressing.
The power to open portals draws its gaze. When Champ gives birth, the rift opens. But something tries to follow. Something bad. Her plea is simple: “Help me get the little ones through. Guard the door.”
Vanessa, voice shaking: “She… isn’t from here. Neither is the lake. When she gives birth, she opens a door—not to another lake. To a world. A haven. But each time, it draws… something. Something that tries to follow. She’s asking us to help. Stand guard. Keep the darkness out."
Wayne, wide-eyed: “You got all that from a… feeling?”
Vanessa, softly crying: “It’s clearer than talking. She’s begging. Not speaking. Just… begging.”
Athena: “The logic aligns. Power draws predators. Recommend adopting defensive posture when portal birth event begins.”
Spyder, hoarse: "If the universe sends you a monster, pleading for help—you don’t ask why. You help."
Heroes aren’t always summoned with trumpets. Sometimes they’re whispered into existence by ancient creatures beneath forgotten waters. And the price of opening a door is what steps through if you’re not watching.
I’ve run boats through storms, seen odd things on the water, and survived mistakes I wouldn’t retell for pie. But today, we matched pace with something that shouldn’t exist. I thought I’d seen it before, years ago, maybe in a dream. Vanessa feels what I can’t explain: not danger, not quite—a call for help. There’s another world behind these waters. And she’s asking us to defend the door. If I could write exactly what I felt—fear, awe, purpose—I wouldn’t need this log. I just hope I get another chance to answer. And we come out the other side standing.
I saw the sonar, I saw the shadow, I saw it—and I haven’t had coffee strong enough to believe it yet. Vanessa says we’re supposed to help. Spyder says we just do, anyway. FRED’s ready. Tools checked. Nothing in the manual covers this.
It’s not just a monster. She wants something from us—and it’s not food. It’s… trust. I didn’t know I could understand, but Champ made sure I couldn’t miss it. If she needs us—I’ll stay until the stars fall.
Unknown entity’s communication: successful, nonverbal. Sensor array: recalibrated for “portal event” protocols. Crew emotional state: uncertain, but unified. Recommendation: readiness for extraordinary event, nonlethal defense, or moral support—as required.
The universe rarely assigns homework. But when it does, it’s never in your handwriting.