He frowns, then places his hand on the panel. The internal mechanisms click and release. The door swings open.
Inside the cavern, green metal dragonflies swirl lazily overhead. Docked at the pier, in the multicoloured light of the phytoplankton clouds, the Nautilus glimmers like an alt-tech mirage. The bristles, wiring and complex quilt-work of her hull no longer seem strange to me. She looks like home.
Dev inhales sharply. He’s only ever seen the Nautilus underwater and from a distance, or as a glowing blip on the Aronnax’s readouts. Now, seeing her up close for the first time … Well, I remember how that felt.
‘She’s beautiful,’ he murmurs. His tone is a mix of envy and wonder.
Near our feet, Socrates breaks the surface of the water. He chatters furiously at Dev.
‘Hey, buddy.’ Dev’s voice turns ragged. He crouches at the edge of the pier.
Socrates continues to excoriate him.
Dev looks sheepishly at me. ‘I can guess what he’s saying.’
‘He’s not happy with you,’ I agree.
Dev nods morosely. I trust him not to hurt Socrates, at least. Even if Dev could convince himself to destroy our entire school, intentionally doing harm to someone who loves you, face-to-face … that’s much harder. We are not abstract things for Dev to hate. We’re his family. I need him to see the difference, to feel it.
‘I don’t have anything for you, Socrates.’ Dev’s hollow expression makes me suspect he doesn’t just mean food. He means he doesn’t have any explanations, or any apologies that would hold weight.
I open the nearest cabinet, pop Luca’s ice chest and grab a frozen squid. I offer it to Dev.
He looks at the Loligo opalescens like it has fallen from another dimension. I imagine, like me, he’s remembering the last time we stood together, ready to feed Socrates.
He tosses the squid. Socrates snaps it up, because no matter how angry a dolphin is, he will not turn down food. Socrates lets out another scathing tirade of dolphin insults, then turns tail to leave, splashing us both as he submerges.
Dev lowers his head. ‘Okay. I get it. This is the punishment. The cell was better.’
‘No, Dev,’ I say, my voice turning stern. ‘We’re not done. We’re going inside the Nautilus.’
Before we even reach the bottom of the staircase, Dev’s hands are shaking.
He stands awestruck in the entry chamber, unsure where to focus his gaze.
I address the ship in Bundeli. ‘Nautilus, this is Dev. I told you about him.’
The ship hums. The lights brighten.
Dev stares at me. At this point, I am pretty sure any thought he had about attacking me is gone. He’s feeling too overwhelmed, too vulnerable.
‘The ship is voice-controlled?’ he asks. ‘In Bundeli?’
‘No, Dev,’ I say calmly. ‘She’s not controlled at all. She’s alive.’
‘Alive …？ No, that’s not …’
The Nautilus shifts under our feet. A subtle message. Listen to your sister, boy.
‘Come,’ I tell him.
He follows me to the bridge.
‘My god …’ He runs his hand over the back of the captain’s chair. He gawps at the pipe organ, the great eye windows, the LOCUS orbs glowing over the control consoles. ‘Why are you letting me see this, Ana? Is this my punishment?’
He sounds bitter, yes, but there’s more to it. I think he’s starting to realize what he’s lost … and it isn’t just the Nautilus. It’s HP. His own future. Maybe even me.
‘I wanted you to meet her,’ I say. ‘And also to show you something. Nautilus has heard about you. You’re a Dakkar. If you like, you can try to give her an order.’
He looks at me sceptically, but his eyes gleam with desire.
‘Nautilus,’ he says at last. His Bundeli is rustier than mine, but he gives it a try. ‘I’m Dev Dakkar. I … was supposed to be your captain. Will you dive for me? Set depth at five metres.’
Nothing happens.
I think Dev expected this. His shoulders slump, nonetheless. ‘You’ve locked me out.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘The Nautilus just doesn’t trust you. You insulted her, tried to capture her.’
He frowns, dismayed. ‘Ana … I know the story. This ship killed our parents.’
The bridge’s lighting turns a shade of violet.
‘This ship,’ I say, ‘was left sitting on the bottom of the lagoon for a century and a half. She was angry and only half-functioning. She lashed out. Now she’s grieving, just like we are.’