P.M., Low Earth Orbit, 480 nautical miles above the Pacific

Sunlight reflected off the wings of the brilliant satellite. Upon its flank, stenciled markings, as crisp as the day they had been painted, were easy to see: a tiny flag, identification numbers, and broad red letters, spelling out its name: Spartacus.

As it swept over the expanse of the Pacific Ocean, the satellite slowly rotated, an internal gyro spinning like a child’s top. Pinioned solar wings tilted to catch more energy, in turn powering up the high-energy chemical laser.

Around the awakening satellite, the upper atmosphere began to be peppered with ionized particles, charging the ionosphere with tiny bursts of radiation, like raindrops on a pond. Ripples began to spread. The satellite’s communication system crackled.

However, these raindrops were but the first trickle of a coming flood. Overhead, past the orbit of the moon, the true storm rushed toward Earth, a raging gale of wild energy and particles, plunging through the vacuum of space at 1.8 million miles per hour.

Oblivious to the threat, the satellite finished its cascade. The chemical laser fed energy in microbursts to the particle-beam generator. Power levels rose exponentially, building to thresholds that could only be sustained by a whirling pair of electromagnets. Its shielded central processor registered the escalation, making one final adjustment, locking on a signal far below.

At last a switch was opened — energy pulsed out in a narrow beam of neutrons, ripping through the atmosphere, striking the sea below and passing through the waters as easily as it had the air. Fed from space, the beam raced into the midnight depths of the ocean, where even the light of the sun could not penetrate.

Karen stood, face pressed to the cold window. Beyond the weak light of the portholes, she searched for some sign of Jack, but could see nothing.

Karen gasped, blinded. She closed her eyes, covering her face with an arm, but the pillar still shone, the image burned into her retina. She stumbled back, tears running down her face. It took several seconds before she could even open her eyes. When she did, each porthole shone with such brilliance that it seemed the sun itself had descended atop the sea base.

Shielding her eyes, she moved to one of the ports, trying to see outside. Nothing was visible. Not Jack, not the seabed beyond. The world was just light. “Jack…”

The old historian sighed out a long stream of smoke, seemingly unperturbed by the missile aiming across the sky toward them. By now its fiery tail was easy to see.

Lisa reached out and took George’s hand. He squeezed her fingers in his grip. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, suddenly fatherly, his eyes on the sky.

As they watched together, the missile seemed to freeze in place, hanging as if caught in amber. Lisa stared, mouth hanging open. Surely it was an optical illusion.

Robert spoke up, drawing her attention away from the strange sky. He was bent over the steel rail, looking down. He turned to them, taking off his headphones. “Guys…where’s the ocean?”

“What do you mean?” Lisa and George joined the young marine biologist. She stared past the rail and gasped.

Beyond the keel there was no water. The ship was floating in midair, rocking gently on invisible waves.

Lisa bent over the rail. Far below, a fierce light shone. She looked around, turning. Inside a hundred-yard perimeter of the ship the sea was gone. Beyond this circle, the ocean was as normal as any day. It was as if the Deep Fathom were floating over a deep well in the ocean.

Lisa tore her eyes from the wonders below to see something even more amazing overhead. In the sky, the small missile, once hanging in place, began to slide back down its smoke trail, as if it were retreating.

Jack stood with his arms blocking his helmet ports. He huddled against the light, mouth open in a silent scream. The power surging inches from his back vibrated his armor shell. His skin was flushed, hairs tingling. He felt the energy down to his bones. God …!

Before his sanity was burned away in the brightness, he sensed a change in the timbre of the energy. The light softened.

Rather than blinding, the radiance from the pillar had become a silvery wash through the dark waters. The seamounts, the research station, the lava pillars, were all limned in stark relief, etched in silver, becoming mirrors themselves in the strange light.

As he stared, knowing death lay moments away, he spotted movement from the corner of his eye. He turned, searching out the helmet ports.

Reflected in the silvery surfaces of the nearby sea cliffs, he watched images of men and women kneeling, arms raised to the heavens. More gathered behind. Throngs of robed and cloaked figures, some with elaborate headdresses of feathers and jewels, others bearing platters laden with fruits, or leading sheep and pigs on leather tethers.

Searching around, he saw similar images in all the mirrored surfaces: warped figures moving across the curved skin of the sea base, fractured images on the broken wall of lava pillars, even on a nearby boulder, the reflection of a tall man, kneeling with his face to the ground.

It was as if the silvery surfaces had become a magical looking glass to another world.

The kneeling figure lifted his face. He was bearded, with piercing eyes, and strong limbs. He stood and stepped from the mirrored boulder.

Jack gasped, backing and bumping into the pillar behind him. All around him the procession of people moved forward, leaving their reflected surfaces. He now heard distant voices, echoing songs, chanting.

Jack found his gaze drawn upward. There was no ocean, only sky. A bright sun hung above, eclipsed by the moon. Glancing back down, he saw hazy mountains in the distance and dense forests. Yet, strangely at the same time, he could still sense the ocean, the sea base, the cliffs….

He suddenly understood. These were the ancient ones, the people of the lost continent. He was glimpsing their world.

Karen whispered in his ear, barely audible past the growing songs and chants. “I…I see people around you, Jack.”

It wasn’t just him! Jack stepped forward to view the wonder better. As he did so, the tall bearded man crashed to his knees, a look of rapture on his face. He was staring right at Jack.

Jack stopped and raised an arm. All around the ghostly clearing, men and women fell in postures of worship and prostration. “They’re your ancients. The ones you’ve been looking for all these years. We’re seeing back into their world through some strange warp. And they’re in turn seeing into ours.”

The kneeling man, some sort of leader or shaman, called loudly. Though the words were unintelligible, he was clearly pleading.

“I will attempt to translate…but I have only begun to attach phonetics to the ancient language.”

Charlie spoke up. “You’ll have to hurry. We’re escalating to the peak pulse frequency in thirty-two seconds.”

The man at Jack’s feet continued to speak. Gabriel’s translation overlapped. “Our need is great, spirit of the pillar, oh god of the sun. What message do you bring us that the land shakes and cracks with fire?”

For the first time Jack noticed the ground was trembling underfoot. At that moment, he realized not only where he was, but when!

Jack also grasped his own role here. He remembered the platinum diary’s story: The god of light stepped from his pillar ….

Knowing his duty, Jack stepped forward and raised both arms. “Flee!” he yelled as Gabriel translated, his words echoing out to those gathered. “A time of darkness is upon you! A time of hardship! The waters of the sea will claim your homelands and drown them away. You must be prepared!”

Hurrying, Jack stepped forward. “Build great ships!” he ordered. “Gather your flocks and fill the ships’ bellies with food from the fields! Save your people!”

The shaman bowed his head. “Your humble servant, Horon-ko, hears and will obey.”

A shocked gasp arose from the radio. “Horon-ko,” Karen said. “The one who wrote the diary…the bones in the coffin.”

Jack nodded, staring down at the man. Their shared stories had come full circle. As he stood, the images sank back into the mirrored reflections.

But it never arrived — instead, the brightness simply blinked away like a candle snuffed.

Jack straightened. After the intense light, the midnight seas were especially dark. The glow from the base’s portholes appeared anemic and wan.

Jack spun with his thrusters, thumbing on his suit’s lamps. His lights spread far in the darkness.

The crystal pillar was gone. All that remained were bits and chunks scattered across the dark seabed floor, glowing in his beams like a sprinkle of stars. He moved forward, stepping among the shining constellations.

Jack frowned. Charlie’s happiness was hard to share. The world was saved, but what about them? “The tactical nuclear strike?” Jack asked. “Spangler’s revenge. When’s it due to hit?”

Charlie sat in the pilothouse, radio pressed to his lips. “Jack, you missed the eclipse the last time. You might want to get back up here so you don’t miss it a second time.”

Charlie grinned at Jack’s consternation. He couldn’t resist stringing his captain along. His heart was too full of amazement and joy. He stood and stared out the wide window. The others were all gathered on deck, pointing up.

Charlie checked his wristwatch. A little after twelve o’clock. He glanced back at the sun. It was low in the sky, too low.

Shaking his head in wonder, Charlie glanced to the satellite navigation system. Its clock and date were constantly updated with a feed from a dozen satellites in geosynchronous orbit. He stared at the digital time and date stamp. He had confirmed the anomalous results with the local weather band, too.

Charlie sighed, letting Jack off the hook. “We ran into a little anomaly, Jack. Like I said before, I’m no expert on this new science of ‘dark energy.’ ”

“Well, when we bombarded the pillar, the dark energy behaved as I had hoped — radiating straight back out, rather than down. But it had a side effect I hadn’t anticipated.”

“Rather than stirring up the magma, the dark energy spike triggered a massive global time flux, resetting the Earth’s battery to the moment when the dark matter had last been excited. Back to the solar storm two weeks ago. Back to the day of the eclipse.”

Jack’s voice was incredulous. “What the hell are you saying? That we’ve traveled back in time?”

“Not us, the world. Except for our local pocket here, the rest of the planet slipped back sixteen days.”

In the docking bay of the research station, Karen helped Jack out of his bulky suit. She had listened in on the geologist’s conversation with Jack.

It was too wild to comprehend right now. All her mind could grasp was that they had survived. The pillar was gone. The world was safe. The mysteries of Einsteinian anomalies, dark matter, and dark energy would have to wait.

Karen held his arm, assisting him. Here was what she understood: flesh and blood. Jack had survived and returned to her as he had promised.

Karen opened her mouth to congratulate him — then their eyes met. She realized words were too weak to convey her true feelings. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck, knocking and pinning him back against the heavy suit.

Karen kissed him hard, as if proving him no ghost. He pulled her closer. His lips moved from her mouth to her throat. The heat of his touch was electric, a dark energy of his own. She gasped his name, winding her fingers through his hair, tangling and twisting, refusing to let him go.

Their flaring passion was not love, nor even lust. It was something more. Two people needing to prove they lived. In the warmth of lips, the touch of skin, they celebrated life in all its physical needs, sensations, and wonder.

He pressed against her, urgent and hungry. She squeezed him harder, arms trembling.

Finally, he broke away from her. “We…we…not now, not this way. Not enough time.” He sagged back, one hand vaguely waving up. “We need to find a way topside.”

Karen grabbed his wrist. “Follow me.” She brusquely guided him to the ladder. Climbing, she still felt the heat of his touch on her skin, a gentle warmth that spread through her limbs. Reaching the topmost tier, she helped him off the ladder.

“I was given a safety briefing when I first arrived,” she explained. “There’s a built-in emergency evacuation system.” She hurried to a panel marked with large warning labels and pulled the door open. A large red T-handle lay snugly in place. “Help me with this.”

“The upper tier acts as an emergency lifeboat, sort of like the sub’s evacuation system. This lever pops and separates the top level from the other two. Then, according to the specs, the positive buoyancy will float the tier to the surface. Ready?”

Jack nodded. Together they yanked the handle. A muffled explosion sounded, rattling the floor underfoot. The wall lamps blinked off as the tier separated from the main generators.

Karen found Jack’s hand in the dark. In moments red emergency lights flickered on.

After a moment he turned to her, eyes bright in the weak light. “How long till we breach the surface?”

Karen recognized the hunger in his voice. She matched it with her own. “Thirty or forty minutes,” she said huskily. She slipped from his embrace and reached to her blouse. Freeing the top buttons, she stepped back toward the sleeping quarters. Her eyes never left his. “It seems I never did give you a proper tour, did I?”

He followed her, step for step. His hand reached to the zipper of his dive suit, tugging it down. “No. And I think it’s long overdue.”

Seven hours later, out on the open deck, Jack and the others sat around a makeshift dining table. Jack had broken out the champagne and pulled the last of the Porterhouse steaks from the freezer. It was to be a sunset dinner to celebrate their survival and the secret shared by the nine people gathered here.

Earlier, they had broken into teams to discover how the rest of the world had fared. Charlie discovered that this time around, with the pillar destroyed, the world had been spared the Pacificwide devastation. “Not even a tremor.”

George, in the meantime, investigated if there was another Deep Fathom sailing the seas, the old timeline counterparts. There wasn’t. “It was as if we were plucked from where we were and placed here.” The historian also confirmed from the Hawaiian news wires that the Neptune sea base had vanished from its dock in the waters off of Wailea. He read aloud the news report with a smile. “ ‘The head of the experimental project, Dr. Ferdinand Cortez, spoke to authorities, expressing his dismay and bafflement at the theft.’ ”

Charlie answered, “I guess the currents must have dragged his body beyond the zone around the pillar. When the flux occurred, he simply popped back into the old timeline, a timeline where he never came out here, never died.”

Charlie shrugged. “I doubt it. Maybe somewhere deep inside. Something unspoken. More an odd feeling.”

“Exactly. He remained within the zone. So he stays dead. I bet if you checked on him you’d find him missing from the real world, plucked out of the timeline just like the Fathom and the sea base had been.”

Intrigued, Jack had taken it upon himself to check this angle. He had dialed Admiral Houston and found him still in San Diego. The admiral had been thrilled to hear from him after so many years. “Goddamn if I wasn’t just thinking about you today, Jack. During the eclipse.”

After exchanging pleasantries and a promise to get together, Jack hurriedly explained how he wanted to check into a friend’s whereabouts — Lieutenant Ken Rolfe. After a couple hours, the admiral had called back, suspicious. “Jack, do you know something you’re not telling me? A report came in an hour ago from Turkey. It says your friend went missing during a special ops mission at the Iraq border — along with another old friend of yours.”

Jack had to cover his surprise and talk his way off the phone. Once free, he sat quietly for several moments. So David had stayed dead, probably still in the belly of the giant squid. The great beast must have nested close to the pillar. Jack felt a twinge of regret. Alive and free, he allowed himself the luxury of pity for the man. David had been warped by his upbringing, his father’s unspoken abuses. So where did the true blame lie? Jack knew such answers were beyond him.

Later, as the afternoon had worn on, Lisa suggested the special dinner, to toast their survival. It was heartily agreed upon by all.

Now, with the sun sinking into the western ocean, Jack settled to the table and the celebration. From across the way, Kendall McMillan caught his eye. The accountant wore shorts and a loose pullover, extremely casual for the man.

He cleared his throat and spoke firmly. “I’d like to officially join your crew.”

This news surprised him. Kendall had always maintained an officious distance from the others. Jack frowned. “I don’t know if we have the need for a full-time accountant.”

Kendall glanced to his plate and mumbled, “You will when you’re all millionaires.”

He looked around the table, then spoke loudly. “I’m talking about the Kochi Maru. If Mr. Mollier is correct in his assessment that there were no quakes this time around, there is a good chance the previous volcanic eruption that swallowed the treasure ship may not have occurred. The ship may still be down there.”

Jack’s brows rose and his eyes widened. He remembered the ship’s hold full of gold bricks. At least a hundred tons. Jack stood and reached across the table. He took the accountant’s hand and pumped it vigorously. “Welcome to the crew of the Deep Fathom, Mr. McMillan. For that timely observation, you just earned yourself a tenth of the haul.”

Jack lifted a glass of champagne. “We’ll share equally. Everyone. That includes our newest shipmates: Karen, Miyuki, and Mwahu.”

Kendall looked down the table. “But you said a tenth. There are only nine of us here?”

Jack patted the tabletop. The old German shepherd, squatting at his feet, jumped up, his paws on the table. He ruffled the dog’s thick mane. “Anyone object to Elvis getting his fair share? After all, he did save all your asses from being blown to Kingdom come.”

Slowly, as dinner became dessert, people began to wander away into private groups to discuss the day and their futures, all happy to still have one. Jack spotted Karen by the starboard rail. She stared into the sun’s last glow.

He pushed to his feet, feeling slightly tipsy from the champagne. He crossed to the rail and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. As he did, he saw she held the broken shards of the crystal star in her palms.

She spoke, her voice melancholy. “With the revelations of these past days, my research is over. My great-grandfather was right. There was a lost continent. I now know the ancients truly existed.” She looked up at him sadly. “But if we are to keep the secret of the dark matter hidden, then none must ever know the truth. Look how close we came to destroying ourselves with the mere power of the atom. Can you imagine what we’d do with the power of an entire planet?”

Leaning over, she tumbled the bright crystal shards into the dark sea. “Like the ancients themselves, we’re not ready for such power.”

Jack took her palms, cradling them in his own. “Don’t worry. There are other mysteries yet to be discovered.” Leaning down, he stared deeply into her eyes, his lips brushing hers, his voice low. “You just need to know where to look.”

Hours after the eclipse, Doreen McCloud left her office building. She stared down Market Street. The sun was a mere glow on the western horizon. As she stared skyward, she felt a surge of inexplicable joy. She didn’t understand this sudden emotion. She had lost a critical client today, and the senior partners had scheduled an early morning meeting with her to discuss the loss. Where normally such a thought would fill her with dread, this evening all she felt was a simple appreciation of the cool San Francisco breeze.

As she walked toward the BART station, she noticed others glancing skyward, smiles on their faces, laughter.

Jimmy Pomautuk climbed down the path, his malamute Nanook at his side. The noisy English trio clambered ahead of him, chattering nonstop, full of grins and jokes. Though the group had complained all the way up here, the eclipse had not failed to impress them. In fact, the sight had even touched his cynical soul: the dark sun, the silver ocean, the brilliant borealis.

He wished he could have shared it with his son, one generation passing a special heritage to another.

Glancing back, Jimmy watched the sun set beyond Glacial Point. For some reason, today he felt closer to his grandfather, his ancestors, even the old gods of his people.

In the garden atrium of the governor’s mansion, Jeffrey Hessmire stood beside the Secretary of State. Together they watched President Bishop cross the courtyard. The festivities associated with the eclipse were dying away. People were returning to their normal activities.

President Bishop stepped in front of the Chairman of the People’s Republic. He bowed slightly, a show of respect, and held out his hand.

After a short pause, the Chairman lifted an arm and gripped the President’s hand. Off to the side there was a flourish of camera flashes as the press documented the momentous occasion.

“I know there is still much to settle between our countries,” the President said, “but together we’ll find a way to peace.”

At Jeffrey’s side, Secretary Elliot snorted. “This is just gonna kill Lawrence Nafe — both him and his hawkish cronies. After today, the Vice President’s political support will dry up faster than a puddle in the Sahara. And though it may take some time for Nafe to realize it, his career just ended here today.” Elliot clapped Jeffrey on the shoulder. “All in all, I must say it’s been one hell of a great day.”

No man is an island, and certainly no writer. There are so many good people and friends who have helped hone this novel. First and foremost, I wish to express my appreciation to Lyssa Keusch, my editor, and to Russ Galen, my agent.

For technical assistance, several individuals have been invaluable in the research behind the novel’s science and history: Stephen R. Fischer, Ph.D., for his background in Polynesian languages; Dr. Charles Plummer of CSUS, for his knowledge of geological sciences; Vera Rubin, for her articles on astronomy; both Dr. Phil Nuytten of Nuytco Research Ltd. and the folks at Zegrahm Deep Sea Voyages, for the details of submersible dynamics; Laurel Moore, librarian of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, for her assistance in deep-sea biology; and David Childress, for his book Ancient Micronesia, an invaluable resource. Finally, a marked recognition must be made to two other authors whose books inspired this story: Colonel James Churchward, Books of the Golden Age, and Charles Berlitz, The Dragon’s Triangle.

Of course, I must never forget my posse in words who helped pick apart and polish the first draft: Chris Crowe, Michael Gallowglas, Lee Garrett, Dennis Grayson, Penny Hill, Debra Nelson, Chris Koehler, Dave Meek, Chris Smith, Jane O’Riva, Steve and Judy Prey, Caroline Williams — and for critical analysis and a decade of friendship, Carolyn Mc-Cray.

And lastly, a special thanks to Steve Winters of Web Stew, for his internet skills, and Don Wagner, for his ardent and accomplished support.

James Rollins is the bestselling author of five previous novels: Subterranean, Excavation, Deep Fathom, Amazonia, and Ice Hunt. He has a doctorate in veterinary medicine and his own practice in Sacramento, California. An amateur spelunker and a certified scuba enthusiast, he can often be found either underground or underwater.

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