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spewed from hot vents called “black smokers.”
    Jack glided near one of these vents now. It was a thirty-meter-tall chimney stack, belching dark clouds of mineral-rich boiling waters from its top. As he passed, white clouds of bacteria were disturbed by his thrusters, creating a mini-blizzard behind him. These microorganisms were the basis for life here, microscopic engines that converted hydrogen sulfide into energy.
    Jack gave the chimney a wide berth. Still, as his sub slid past he watched the external temperature readings climb quickly. The vents themselves could reach temperatures over seven hundred degrees Fahrenheit, hot enough, he knew, to parboil him in his little sub.
    â€œJack?” The worried voice of the team’s medical doctor again whispered in his ear. She must have noticed the temperature changes.
    â€œJust a smoker. Nothing to worry about,” he answered.
    Using the foot pedals, he eased the minisub past the chimney stack and continued on a gentle dive, following the trench floor. Though life down here fascinated him, Jack had a more important objective than just admiring the view.
    For the past year, he and his team aboard the Deep Fathom had been hunting for the wreck of the Kochi Maru , a Japanese freighter lost during WWII. Their research intoits manifest suggested the ship bore a large shipment of gold bullion, spoils of war. From studying navigation and weather maps, Jack had narrowed the search to ten square nautical miles of the Central Pacific mountain range. It had been a long shot, a gamble that after a year had not looked like it was going to pay off—until yesterday, when their sonar had picked up a suspicious shadow on the ocean’s bottom.
    Jack was chasing that shadow now. He glanced at the sub’s computer. It fed him sonar data from his boat far overhead. Whatever had cast that shadow was about a hundred yards from his current position. He flipped on his own side-scanning sonar to monitor the bed’s terrain as he moved closer.
    A ridge of rock appeared out of the gloom. He worked the pedals and swerved in a wide arc around the obstruction. The abundant sea life began to dissipate, the oasis vanishing behind him. Ahead, the seabed floor became a stretch of empty silt. His thrusters wafted up plumes as he passed. Like driving down a dusty back road .
    Jack circled the spur of rock. Ahead, another ridge appeared, a foothill in the Central Pacific range. It blocked his progress. He pulled the sub to a hovering halt and released a bit of ballast, meaning to climb over the ridge. As he began to drift upward, a slight current caught his sub, dragging him forward. Jack fought the current with his thrusters, stabilizing his craft. What the hell? He nudged the craft forward, skirting toward the top of the ridge.
    â€œJack,” Lisa whispered in his ear again, “are you passing another smoker chimney? I’m reading warmer temperatures.”
    â€œNo, but I’m not sure what—Son of a bitch!” His sub had crested the ridge. He saw what lay on the far side.
    â€œWhat is it, Jack?” Fear quavered in Lisa’s voice. “Are you okay?”
    Beyond the ridge a new valley opened up, but this was no oasis of life. Ahead was a hellish landscape. Glowing cracks crisscrossed the sea floor. Molten rock flowed forth, shadowy crimson in the gloom as it quickly cooled. Tiny bubblesobscured the view. Jack fought the thermal current. The flow kept trying to roll him forward. From the hydrophone’s speakers a steady roar arose.
    â€œMy God…”
    â€œJack, what did you find? The temp readings are climbing rapidly.”
    He needed no instruments to tell him that. The interior of the sub grew warmer with each breath. “It’s a new vent opening.”
    A second voice came on the horn. It was Charlie, the geologist. “Careful, Jack, I’m still picking up weak surges from down there. It’s far from