Chapter 55: The Breach
The news from Maximus that his men were ready to go inside the ancient vessel was a spark thrown into the tinder of Alex's obsession. The political victory over Pertinax, the grim satisfaction of neutralizing his enemies—it all faded into the background, dwarfed by the colossal, silent mystery lying in the mud of his own harbor. This was the source, the origin point of the anomaly that had defined his new life. He had to go.
He made his preparations under the now-familiar guise of a religious pilgrimage. Another solemn trip to Ostia was announced, this time to perform a larger, more elaborate sacrifice to Neptune to give thanks for the "calming of the seas" and the capture of the first grain pirates. The Senate, now thoroughly cowed, approved the expenditure without a single dissenting voice.
This time, Sabina insisted on coming. Her confrontation with Alex had cleared the air between them, and his partial confession about a search for "lost technology" had transformed her from a wary skeptic into a deeply intrigued co-conspirator.
"If you are going to commune with the 'spirits of the deep,' Caesar," she had told him, her eyes sharp with an intelligence that saw through his excuses, "then your financial advisor should be present to audit the transaction." It was her way of saying she refused to be shut out again. Reluctantly, Alex had agreed. Her practical, cynical mind might be a useful anchor in the face of the impossible.
They arrived at the secured site to find it a hive of disciplined activity. The massive winch and crane system had been reinforced, and a larger, more stable platform now floated above the excavation area. The crude diving bell, which Alex had privately nicknamed Charon's Ferry, waited for them.
The descent was even more unnerving the second time. Alex, Maximus, and a pale but resolute Sabina crowded into the cramped bronze chamber. As it was lowered into the green, murky water of the harbor, the familiar silence and pressure descended upon them. Sabina's eyes were wide, her usual confident poise stripped away by the raw, alien nature of the experience.
They reached the seafloor, and the view was transformed. Maximus's Speculatores had done incredible work. They had cleared away centuries of silt and rock, exposing a much larger section of the colossal, curved hull. It was unmistakably the side of a ship, a vessel of such impossible size that it defied all comparison. It was less a ship and more a small, metal hill rising from the seabed.
And there, in the center of the cleared area, was the breach.
It was not a door or a hatch. It was a wound. A jagged, brutal tear in the ship's dark, metallic skin, roughly ten feet wide and twenty feet high. The edges of the strange alloy were peeled back like torn parchment, a testament to a cataclysmic impact that had happened millennia ago. It was a raw, violent scar on a surface that was otherwise impossibly smooth and seamless. Looking into the dark, still water within the breach was like staring into the mouth of a dead god.
The plan was for Alex and Maximus to enter, while Sabina remained in the bell. She was a woman of numbers and influence, not a soldier, and her safety was paramount. They helped her into a primitive breathing apparatus that Hero of Alexandria had designed—a simple leather bag filled with air, connected by a long, reinforced tube to the larger air bubble trapped in the bell. It was a clumsy, dangerous invention, but it would give her a few precious minutes of air if the bell's integrity was somehow compromised.
Alex and Maximus donned their own. Theirs were designed for movement, smaller bags strapped to their chests, offering only a few minutes of breathable air. It was a terrifyingly small window.