The silence before contact.

The first thing to disappear was the noise. No gulls. No loose rigging ticking against steel. Even the engines seemed to belong to a ship farther away.

At 04:17, the lookout called a light off our bow. It sat below the horizon. Then above it. Then the horizon itself was gone behind something too large to name.

Our charts showed open water. The depth sounder showed a wall.

I asked for the contact’s heading. The officer beside me watched the screen for a long time before he answered.

“Captain, I don’t think it’s moving toward us.”

The light beneath the water spread.

“I think we’ve been sailing over it.”