‘Split up?’ Gem asks, gesturing to port and starboard.
‘That’s always a mistake in the movies,’ I say.
‘Fair enough.’
Together, we make our way forward along the port gunwale, me leading, Gem guarding my six.
We reach the middeck. Still no one in sight. This feels wrong. The roar of the engines is deafening. I’d forgotten how loud the upper world can be.
I turn … and my question to Gem devolves into a scream when I see a familiar figure looming behind him.
Too late, Gem pivots. My brother smacks him across the head with a ratchet.
Gem collapses. Dev kicks his gun across the deck.
I step back, my heart in my throat. Gem’s second P226 quivers in my hand like a dowsing rod.
My brother glares at me. His hair has its usual cowlick crest along the front, but I don’t find it endearing any more. It looks like something dark and menacing is trying to push its way out of his skull. Somehow, he must have repaired the skiff well enough to intercept the Varuna. Where the rest of his boarding party went, I have no idea, but Dev by himself is enough of a problem. Water trickles down the black neoprene of his wetsuit. It’s the same one he wore the last morning we dived together – emblazoned with the logo of the HP Shark captain. I tighten my grip on the gun.
Dev sneers, tossing aside his wrench. ‘You’re really going to shoot me? Go ahead.’
God, I want to. I know the bullets are non-lethal. I hate that my trigger finger is rebelling against me. But Dev is still my brother. No matter what he’s done, I find shooting him at point-blank range very difficult to manage.
‘I thought so,’ he growls. ‘Stupid little girl, you’ve ruined everything.’
Then he charges at me.
The two of us have had the same combat training, but Dev has had years’ more practice.
He grabs my wrist, slapping the gun from my hand, then steps in and twists, attempting to throw me over his shoulder. I use the ‘boneless toddler’ defence, collapsing so my entire body weight works against him. He shuffles, off-balance, and I turn my fall into a backwards roll, leveraging Dev’s own grip to pull him with me. He sails over my head and crashes into the starboard gunwale.
One point for Ana.
My wounded side is on fire. I can feel warm blood trickling down my belly. I struggle to my feet. Dev rises, looking unperturbed.
‘You’re wounded,’ he notes.
He has the audacity to sound concerned. His earlier words still drip in my mind like hydrochloric acid. Stupid little girl.
‘You’ve already lost, Dev.’
‘I don’t think so. We’ve got enough tech and data now to make our next Aronnax a Nautilus-killer. And I don’t think your friends will be bothering this boat with your poor sick professor on board.’
He attacks with a flurry of punches that forces me back to the port railing.
I block, parry and dodge, but my limbs are growing heavy. My head feels like it’s floating on my neck.
I sidestep and trap Dev’s arm, hoping to dislocate his elbow. But he knows that move too well. He sinks on one leg and sweep-kicks me off my feet. I roll out of the way and come up just in time to block his next kick.
He backs away, giving me time to breathe. ‘We don’t have to fight, Ana. We’re still family.’
My weakness is making him calmer, kinder. I hate this about him. He likes me being his needy little sister – the junior Dakkar.
‘Yes, we’re family.’ I wince as I regain my footing. ‘Which is why your betrayal hurts so much.’
I push him across the deck, determined to wipe that smug smile from his face, but he easily parries my attacks.
The Varuna speeds through the break in the atoll. The midday sun bakes my shoulders. My nemonium drysuit is light and flexible, but it was not designed for surface hand-to-hand combat. I am breathing hard, slowing down, wearing myself out. Dev knows it.
Anger gives me momentum.
I feint with a jab step, then land a punch to Dev’s gut. My gym teacher, Dr Kind, would have been proud. Unfortunately, I’m too dizzy to follow through. I stagger away, wheezing, while Dev cradles his sore stomach.
‘I’m not the traitor, Ana,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘Harding-Pencroft got our parents killed. HP could’ve used Nemo’s tech a hundred times to save the world. Instead they kept it locked up. They shut us out of our inheritance.’
I glance over at Gem, still lying facedown on the deck. His fingers are twitching, but there’s no way he’ll be battle-ready any time soon. At least no Land Institute upperclassmen are running onto the deck to help Dev.