Meg2

They were being allowed to leave. To carry the message.

“Lost the signal,” Mac said.

“Give me the manipulator arm,” Jonas ordered. “I want a rock sample.” They were being allowed to leave

The Neptune’s Grave began to rise, but Jonas knew they weren't escaping.

But it wasn’t for the crew of the Neptune’s Grave . “Give me the manipulator arm,” Jonas ordered

The tick-tick-tick faded into the abyss.

It was a Meg. But wrong.

Then the second one appeared. The female. She was larger. And on her dorsal fin, fused to the cartilage, was a piece of twisted, heat-corroded metal. The serial number was still legible: MANA-ONE-DS-01 .

“Sounds like someone shaking a can of nails,” the grizzled engineer replied. “But there’s nothing out here, Jonas. The Megs are gone. We made sure of that.” The tick-tick-tick faded into the abyss

The trench had a new sound.

The Neptune’s Grave , a state-of-the-art research sub, drifted over the collapse zone. The sonar showed nothing but rubble and the faint thermal signature of the buried vents. Then the tick-tick-tick stopped.