Virgil and Gem return with the phone. Virgil starts playing whale songs, which isn’t annoying at all. Gem serves as our timekeeper, periodically letting us know how much longer we have until we are blown to bits. Again, not the least bit annoying.
After an hour and a half, my eyesight is starting to blur. A line of sweat trickles down my back and sticks my shirt to my skin like superglue. We put the finishing touches on our transmission, coding the phonetic components into the sweeps and pitches of whale song, as if blue whales sang in Bundeli.
The message says VARUNA FROM HP. DO NOT FIRE. EMERGENCY SITUATION. ANA DAKKAR ON BOARD.
At least, I hope that’s what it says. At this point, my brain is so mushy the message could say TOFU IS MY FAVOURITE MAMMAL and I wouldn’t know the difference.
I feel self-conscious using my name as part of the response. The other Dolphins have convinced me it’s necessary. They figure that if I’m really so valuable, my presence on board might keep anyone – friends or enemies – from torpedoing us with alt-tech death weapons.
‘Unless we’re talking to an automated relay,’ Virgil muses. ‘If it’s looking for a specific code word, and we don’t send it –’
‘Then we’ve come a long way just to get killed,’ Halimah says.
‘There’s that can-do Dolphin spirit I love,’ I say.
It’s a long-running joke among us. Combined, we’re fluent in, like, two dozen languages, but we have no word for optimism.
Nobody smiles. The stakes are too high.
I turn to Nelinha. ‘Are we good to transmit?’
‘As far as I can tell.’ She sounds cheerful. She’s chosen a festive tangerine shade of lip gloss and eyeshadow to go with her green skirt and orange hoodie. I swear her go bag must be an extra-dimensional space to accommodate all her outfits. ‘Of course, the transmitter might not work. Or we might give away our position to the Aronnax. But we have to try new things, right?’
Gem coughs. He’s wearing his usual commando black, standing next to Nelinha, so together the two of them look like a printer-ink test page. ‘Twenty minutes until the reply deadline,’ he says.
‘Permission to send?’ Lee-Ann asks.
I hesitate. ‘Not yet. Gather the crew. They deserve to know what’s happening.’
The afternoon sun beats down on the main deck. I tell the assembled crew about the challenge, the response we’ve prepared and the 273 things that could possibly go wrong.
‘When we send this signal,’ I say, ‘we’ll be revealing our location. We have to gamble that this isn’t a trap, and that we’ve evaded our enemies.’ It still feels strange referring to Land Institute as our enemies, but there’s nothing else to call them. We’re way past toilet-papering each other’s school buses now. ‘Also, if we send the message and it’s not correct, we could be under attack in fifteen minutes.’
‘Eleven,’ Gem says.
‘Thank you, Prefect Twain,’ I say dryly.
Some of our classmates crack a smile. I guess nervous humour is good.
‘If, however,’ I continue, ‘we are communicating with an HP base, then we could be among friends by this evening.’
An anxious murmur goes through the group. After three days at sea, our old lives seem far away. It’s starting to feel unbelievable that anyone who’s not on this boat could exist, much less be a ‘friend’。 Nevertheless, no one protests. No one asks questions. At this point, in the middle of the ocean with almost no supplies left, what choice do we have?
‘Prefect Romero,’ I say.
‘Captain.’
I blink. This is the first time anyone has called me captain. I’m not sure how I feel about that. ‘All hands for general quarters. Nelinha?’
‘Yes, babycakes?’
That gets some laughter. I silently thank Nelinha for having an insubordinate sense of humour. It’s been a long time since any of us had a good laugh. Besides, babycakes doesn’t sound any more ridiculous to me than captain.
‘Send the message,’ I tell her. ‘If anyone needs to use the head, now would be a good time.’
The crew disperses. All things considered, their spirits seem high. I hope I haven’t led them astray.
I hit the bathroom. I change maxi-pads, take a couple of painkillers and throw up. Today is a great day.
I get back to the bridge just as Nelinha sends the message.
Ester and Top have joined us for the big moment.
Gem fidgets like he’s got a jellyfish in his shirt. Like Ester, he’s one of those people who thinks on time means thirty minutes early. It must be killing him that we’re cutting things so close to the deadline.