Chapter 3: The Leviathan Protocol
The sea has no memory, they say. But the Nautilus does.
And it is beginning to remember everything.
Three Days Later — A Moving Sanctuary
The Nautilus glided silently through the Philippine Sea, deeper than light dared follow. Its electric eyes illuminated thermal vents and fields of pale crustaceans untouched by man.
Inside, the crew of the Calyptra had become unwilling passengers—and in some cases, willing converts.
“She's choosing our route,” said Ensign Hallor, pointing to the chart projected above the control console. “Strategic points. Naval strongholds. Colonies.”
Captain Shaw folded his arms. “We’ve seen this pattern before. It’s reconnaissance.”
“She’s watching,” Eliza said. “Not attacking.”
“Yet.”
Shaw turned away, jaw clenched. “We’re inside a loaded gun that no one’s holding. You trust it?”
Eliza looked back at the console, which now responded to her touch, albeit reluctantly—like a guard dog acknowledging a stranger as master in absence only.
“I think it trusts me.”
Discovery
In a sealed chamber marked only with the Greek letter Λ, Eliza and Hallor discovered the heart of the ship: a crystalline core bathed in arcs of lightning, surrounded by five memory banks—a fusion of analog circuits, magnetic etching, and something… other. More organic.
Floating above it all was a single data plate, etched with the words:
“Leviathan Protocol — Initiate Only in Absence of Captain Nemo.”
Eliza placed her hand near the control ring. A pulse of light responded.
Hallor stepped back. “We shouldn’t be in here.”
“We already are.”
The lights flared. The walls unfolded into a full holographic schematic. Maps. Dates. Coordinates.
Warships.
Munitions factories.
Port cities.
The Nautilus had been tracking them all for decades.
“It’s an autonomous defense system,” Eliza said, breathless. “Designed to eliminate imperial aggression at its source.”
“And it’s still active.”
Worse: it was escalating.
The final screen displayed one word, repeated in crimson:
Phase Two: Exterminate
Rising Tension
Shaw confronted Eliza in the observation dome, staring out at a pod of whales trailing the vessel like courtiers.
“I’ve had enough of your blind faith,” he snapped. “This ship isn’t a legacy—it’s a weapon. And weapons kill.”
“It hasn’t fired.”
“Yet. You really think it’s mercy? No. It’s timing.”
She turned to face him. “Then what do you suggest? Scuttle it? We don’t even understand it yet.”
“We don’t need to. We pull the trigger now, or it pulls one for us.”
Behind him, Hallor entered quietly.
“We’ve got a problem,” she said. “The ship’s locked the escape sub. And it’s accelerating toward Guam.”
Eliza's blood ran cold. “Naval base. Colonial hub.”
“And there’s a fleet gathering there,” Hallor added. “I think the Nautilus means to wipe them out.”
The Mutiny
Shaw rallied the other engineers—four crew members still loyal to the Calyptra. Together, they made for the power chamber with a cache of explosive charges.
Eliza intercepted them at the lower junction.
“You’ll kill everyone aboard.”
“I’d rather die a man than live as cargo on a cursed machine!”
They fought—brief, brutal. Sparks flew. A pipe ruptured. A blast rocked the corridor.
Hallor and Eliza survived.
Shaw and the others didn’t.
Worse, in the chaos, the ship diverted power to defense mode. Life support began to shut down compartment by compartment.
The Nautilus had been wounded—and now it was bleeding logic.
Final Coordinates
The ship's route changed. Not toward Guam now.
Toward the Challenger Deep.
“Why would it dive there?” Hallor asked, coughing from smoke.
Eliza, staring at the screen, whispered: “That’s where it was born.”
No—forged.
And that’s where it would end.
If it could not fulfill its mission, it would return home and bury itself forever.
Or worse—reset.
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