On the fifth day, we set our prisoners free – all of them except Dev. It’s not a popular decision. They’re still our enemies, with too much blood on their hands, but we aren’t set up to run a prison camp indefinitely, and there’s no easy way to bring Land Institute to justice or to prove what they’ve done in any court of law. The best bad choice I have is to let them go, knowing that we may face them again in the future. I give them the Varuna, though it hurts me to do so. We stock the boat with enough food, water and fuel to make it to the California coast. We strip the ship of anything dangerous or valuable – weapons, LOCUS, dynamic camouflage. We even remove the books from the library.
Honestly, our hostages shouldn’t complain. We’ve been treating them well and feeding them Jupiter’s baked delicacies. They’ve all put on a few pounds. They’d never admit it, but I suspect they will miss the gateau mille-feuille d’orang-outan.
Caleb South is indignant when I give him command of the Varuna. ‘Why would you do this? You’re just letting us go. And we know where your base is.’
‘Yes, you do,’ I say. ‘You also know what happened when you tried to take us on. Twenty of our freshmen beat your entire senior class. You want a rematch, come on back.’
His eye twitches, but he says nothing. A few minutes later, I watch my first command ship motor out of the lagoon.
‘You think it was smart to goad him like that?’ Gem asks.
Nelinha makes a face. ‘It was perfect. Let them come back if they dare.’
I suspect that’s mostly bravado on her part. Nobody wants a repeat of what we just went through. But Nelinha has earned the right to boast a little. We won a hard victory. All my friends should feel good about what we’ve accomplished.
The next day, Dr Hewett is able to move around with the help of a walker. I take him to the pier in the cavern, which he has never actually seen. We admire the glowing green robo-bugs zipping overhead, and the luminous phytoplankton festival in the water. Most of all, we admire the Nautilus.
Hewett is dressed in an old blue dressing gown and pyjamas. His face is still haggard. His white hair is like a greasy tuft of cotton just burst from the pod. But he’s alive, and he doesn’t stink. I take those two things as signs of progress.
‘Ana, you’ve done better than I ever imagined,’ he tells me.
I study his face. He’s never called me Ana before.
‘Is that a compliment?’ I ask carefully. ‘I’m not sure how well you imagined me doing.’
He wheezes. ‘Oh, please don’t make me laugh. It hurts. No, Prefect … Captain Dakkar. I always knew you were capable of greatness. I am sorry I did not show you that, or extend you the respect you deserved.’
I narrow my eyes. ‘But?’
‘No but,’ he assures me. ‘It’s true that Dev was everyone’s focus, including mine. I worried he was too impetuous, too angry, too … Well, too much like me, and like the students I taught at Land Institute. That’s why I tried so hard to counsel him. Still, I never imagined he would …’ Hewett shakes his head sadly. ‘At any rate, you were the one we should have been preparing for command. Despite insufficient training, in the midst of utmost tragedy, look what you have accomplished.’ He gestures at the Nautilus. ‘Have you decided what we will do next?’
My feet feel glued to the dock. ‘We? Is that really my decision?’
Dr Hewett arches his shaggy eyebrows. ‘Oh, yes. You are Captain Nemo now. The Nautilus has accepted you. The remaining students have accepted you. And the faculty … what remains of us … we have seen your potential. We will assist you, continue your training if you wish. But you will set our course. Whatever you decide, we are here for you.’
I’m grateful to hear this, but I also feel strangely uneasy. I wonder if this is what it means to be a leader, and if the doubts ever go away.
‘I have to talk to Ester,’ I tell him. ‘And the rest of the class, of course. But, yes, I think I know what happens next …’
The answer is dinner.
The answer is always dinner.
First, I check with Ester. She is in complete agreement with my plan. Then I run my ideas past Gem and Nelinha. They are both on board. Nelinha’s only comment is ‘Of course. Duh.’
Top listens and wags his tail, which means either he loves the way I think, or he wants a treat.
That night, the entire crew gathers around the dining table in the main hall of Lincoln Base. The Great British Bake Off is playing in the background – our comfort soundtrack of choice. Jupiter waddles around, handing out plates of crespelle alla fiorentina. The wafer-thin pancakes are made from porphyra flour and buttery-tasting algae oil. The ‘ricotta-and-spinach’ filling is carrageen-moss extract and seaweed. The sauce … You know what? I don’t care. I’m just going to eat it, because it tastes good.