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She plugged in a clean external drive, clicked "Recover," and watched the files stream over like water finding its level. 1 GB. 5 GB. Done.

Then she thought of the Santa Lucia . The way the wooden ribs had appeared on the sonar like ghost fingers reaching up from the dark. The porcelain dragon she’d glimpsed, intact after 400 years.

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Her hotel in Reykjavik had no internet fast enough to download a 2GB recovery suite. The university IT guy back in Boston just sighed and said, "Mail it to us. Maybe we'll look at it next month."

"What’s this?" she asked.

Lena sat back. The fire alarm stopped. The room was silent except for the hum of the Icelandic midnight sun outside the window.

She opened one of the images. The sonar render resolved: a perfect outline of the Santa Lucia's hull, and beside it, the scattering of porcelain—dozens of plates, jars, and that one dragon, its snout curled like a question mark. She plugged in a clean external drive, clicked

"No internet to buy a license," she muttered.