The harpoon clicks into place on my right gauntlet. Perfect alignment. Each explosive charge nestles against my belt, their familiar weight a comfort after two hundred years of preparation. My left console flickers to life, its soft blue glow reflecting off the midnight waters.

The Rapa Nui gather on the volcanic beach, their tattooed faces stern in the starlight. Seven generations of their people have guarded my secret, taught their children the old songs that masked the humming of my equipment beneath their sacred caves. Their ancestors helped build the Moai – not just as statues, but as silent sentinels housing the tracking array that finally found Tiamat’s lair.

My hand traces the blade at my hip, the same one that failed to end Enlil’s life centuries ago. The scar on my side throbs with the memory.

I turn to face my guardians one last time. Their chief, descendant of my first ally here, raises his staff in blessing. These humans, these beautiful, loyal creatures – they’ve given everything to help me find justice for Dumuzi. For my parents. For everyone that monster destroyed when he shot down our ship.

The Pacific embraces me like an old friend as I slip beneath the waves. My radar springs to life, painting the underwater landscape in sharp relief. There – the geometric perfection I detected last week pulses against the natural contours of the seafloor. Enlil always did prefer his clean lines and perfect angles.

The fortress rises from the murky depths like a metal leviathan, its sleek walls designed to deflect both sonar and curious eyes. But I’ve had centuries to study his patterns, his preferences, his weaknesses. Every detail of this base screams his arrogance.

My fins cut through the dark water, each stroke measured and silent. Two centuries of planning crystallize into this moment. The first barrier looms ahead – or what passes for security in Enlil’s arrogant mind. Patches of coral cling to the sensor arrays, their electronic eyes blind and useless. My lip curls beneath my breather mask. The great Lord Enlil, so certain no one would find his precious hideaway that he let his defenses rot.

The first charge slides from my belt, its weight familiar in my palm. I press it against the junction where three support beams meet, exactly as my diagrams indicated. Green light pulses through the murky water – armed and ready. One down, seven to go.

My body weaves between massive power conduits, the ghost of old rage burning in my chest. Each cable thrums with energy that could have saved our ship, could have prevented that long fall from the stars. The second charge finds its home beneath a primary junction box.

Another cable cluster ahead mirrors the ones in my memories – the same technology Enlil used to fire that damned weapon. My fingers brush a third charge, and Dumuzi’s face flashes behind my eyes. His smile, his gentle hands, the way his blood looked on the floor. The explosive clicks into place with more force than necessary.

Fourth charge goes where the auxiliary power feeds into the main grid. I see my father’s broken body in the wreckage, my mother’s face twisted in pain. The device blinks green through the sediment I’ve stirred up. Let them rest in the silt – like my parents’ dreams of peace between our peoples.

Five and six bracket the main structural supports. Each placement precise, each one a heartbeat closer to justice. The base’s massive hull towers above me now, its shadow as dark as the void that swallowed our future that day. Two centuries I’ve carried this weight, letting it forge my purpose into something harder than the metal walls before me.

The console on my wrist shows a perfect pattern of green dots – a constellation of vengeance, ready to burn.

The oxygen readout flashes on my helmet display – 68%. My jaw clenches. More than enough to finish this, assuming nothing goes wrong. Nothing can go wrong. Not after two centuries of planning.

My fins slice through the murky water with renewed urgency. The base’s massive hull stretches above me like the belly of some mechanical beast. The coral-crusted sensor arrays still sleep, blind to my presence. Pathetic. All that technological superiority, left to rot by my uncle’s hubris.

The final charge feels heavier in my hand as I approach the power core housing. Its smooth casing catches what little light filters down here, a stark contrast to the organic growth coating everything else. My fingers find the perfect spot where the power conduits converge. The explosive clicks into place with a satisfaction that sends shivers down my spine.

My wrist console illuminates with the detonation interface. Each tap of my fingers programs another layer of destruction – primary charges first, followed by secondaries in a precise pattern. The simulation runs, showing the cascade of explosions that will rip through Enlil’s sanctuary. My blood burns hot at the thought.

There – the emergency airlock. Its control panel glows with the same arrogant simplicity as everything else in this tomb. Two centuries of technological advancement, and Enlil still uses the same basic encryption protocols. My decoder makes short work of the lock.

Water rushes past my suit as the chamber cycles. Each drop that drains away brings me closer to him. Closer to justice. The inner door’s seal breaks with a hiss that echoes through my bones.

My boots make no sound as I ghost through the passageways. There! A maintenance access panel…

The confined space smells of metal and ozone. Pipes and conduits run along the walls, carrying power and data through the base’s artificial nervous system. I crouch in the shadows, activating my wrist console.

Lines of data scroll across the holographic display as I tap into the base’s security network. Life sign readings flood my screen – dozens of crew members going about their duties, unaware that death has already infiltrated their sanctuary. I filter the data, searching for one specific signature.

My heart pounds against my ribs as a familiar pattern emerges. That genetic code burned into my memory centuries ago. The biological signature of the monster who murdered my love, who tried to destroy everything I held dear.

“Found you, dear uncle.” The words taste like venom on my tongue. My lips curl into a smile that holds no warmth. “Time to pay for your sins.”