We sink beneath the bay, trapped in an air pocket amid a shifting tomb of wreckage. We scream and beat our fists against slabs of broken concrete. Salt water pours in. Dev reaches out to take my hand as my head goes under. My lungs fill with brine and sediment.
I wake in a cold sweat.
For a few shaky breaths, I don’t know where I am.
I hear Ester’s puff-puff-snore from the next bed over. In the bunk above me, Nelinha grumbles in her sleep. Maybe I’m back at Harding-Pencroft, and everything is fine …
Then I remember. Lincoln Base. My old life is gone. There’s a reason I’m dreaming about wreckages …
I sit up, shivering. At least my period cramps have started to subside. That’s a major blessing.
I check my dive watch: 5:30 a.m.
I know I’ll never be able to get back to sleep. I slip out of bed as quietly as I can and grab a swimsuit from my bag. When you dream of drowning, there’s only one thing to do: get in the water as soon as possible.
I encounter no one as I retrace my way through the main room and out to the pier. The Varuna rests dark and silent at her moorings.
As dawn breaks, the lagoon turns to turquoise-and-pink glass. I plunge into the warm clear water. Immediately, I’m surrounded by a tornado of angelfish. I free dive through the reefs. I wave good morning （from a safe distance） to a viper moray who’s peeking out from his crevice. I admire a fourteen-foot nurse shark cruising through the sea grass.
After a while, Socrates finds me. He introduces me to his local dolphin friends. We swim together until the sky is full of light.
By the time I pad back into the base, I’m feeling refreshed. The smell of baking pastries raises my spirits even more. Jupiter waddles around the dining table, setting out baskets of croissants, muffins and Danish pastries in anticipation of the morning rush. I can’t believe one orangutan baked so much in such a short amount of time.
That smells amazing, I tell him. Can I help?
He hands me a turnover. Taste this.
It melts in my mouth: butter that is not butter, perfect flaky crust that tastes nothing like seaweed, fruit filling that reminds me of pears and oranges but is probably from one of Nemo’s botany projects harvested fifty feet below.
If I lived here all the time, my cholesterol levels would go through the roof … Or did Nemo figure out a way around cholesterol, too?
Delicious, I say. Mary Berry would be proud.
Jupiter calmly signs, I love you. Then he waddles back to the kitchen. I nab a basket of pastries to take to my room – just for my friends, of course. I make a mental note to ask Jupiter if he can bake gujiyas. If not, I’ll have to teach him. Surely Mary Berry would approve.
I find Ester and Nelinha showered and dressed. They don’t seem worried about where I’ve been. They’re used to my morning dives.
‘Orangutan pastries?’ I offer.
‘Yes, please.’ Nelinha takes a turnover. She looks me up and down. ‘I’m glad you didn’t get zapped by any underwater defences in the lagoon.’
Her comment makes me feel dumb, because I didn’t even think of that.
Ester picks at the crust of a faux-apple tart. She’s wearing her pink blouse and pink leggings today. I assume that means she’s especially nervous, since pink is her comfort colour. Her hair, combed back in wet blond coils, is already drying and puffing out in different directions. Like Ester’s thought process, her hair always ends up doing what it wants.
‘I was thinking last night.’ She stares at my feet. ‘You remember how I said the Nautilus is dangerous? How I think it killed your parents?’
I nod.
It’s not like I could forget.
‘I think I understand now,’ she says. ‘After listening to Luca and Ophelia talk last night, I don’t think you should –’
Someone knocks on our door.
Ophelia pokes her head inside. ‘Ah, good. You’re all up.’
Her tone makes me suspect that she already knew this. There must be security monitors throughout the base, maybe even in this room.
Ester blushes and looks down. Top sits in front of her protectively, staring up at Ophelia as if to say, My human.
‘Ready?’ Ophelia asks me. ‘Are your friends coming?’
It takes my brain a moment to catch up. Of course. She means am I ready to see the Nautilus. Jupiter’s turnover does a turnover in my stomach. ‘Uh …’
‘Yes,’ Nelinha answers for me. ‘We’re coming.’
‘I’d like them to.’ I look at Ester. ‘If that’s okay.’