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The big dive had been yesterday. The submersible was back on deck. It was a little battered. Now it really did look like a steel pumpkin that had been to the bottom of the ocean.

Polly was leaving today. She felt the pull of the next place. Where exactly, she did not know.

She made a quiet walk around the ship. First the kitchen. A small sandwich was on a paper plate. She ate it quickly.

Then the mess. The photo of the Trieste was still on the wall.

Then the lab. Yara had put the shrunken cup in a display case. The date and depth were written below.

Then the dive deck. The submersible sat in its cradle, clean, ready to go back to land.

At the front of the ship, the captain was leaning on the rail. "You're leaving?" he said. She tilted her head. He nodded.

She thought about the week. The small ship. The strange fish. The two men from 1960. The cup the size of a thimble.

The galley that kept everyone calm. The scientist who explained pressure with a marshmallow.

None of it was an adventure. Nobody had needed saving. There was no mystery, no chase. Just a quiet place deep in the sea, and a small ship full of careful people.

Polly did not think she could live that life. But she liked them very much.

The breeze freshened. She opened her wings and let the deck push her up. She climbed in a slow spiral. The ship became a small white dot on the blue Pacific. She turned and went. Below her, the trench remained as it had for a hundred million years: dark, cold, and quiet.