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Daughter of the Deep(81)

Author:Rick Riordan

She spreads her hands. ‘I mean … we’re in one piece? Propulsion is down. The cav-drive blew a fuse or something. We’re still digging ourselves out from the Great Goo Explosion. On the other hand, we have internal power. We have air. Our depth is stable at twenty metres. The hull is intact. So we’re okay. We just won’t be going anywhere for a while.’

‘What’s our position?’

She laughs. ‘You won’t believe it. We’re in the Philippine Sea, roughly four hundred miles east of Davao.’

I blink, trying to process that. ‘You mean one punch of the cav-drive shot us –’

‘About five thousand miles,’ she confirms. ‘It took a couple of hours, mind you. You were unconscious for the whole thing, but still …’

‘That would take – what, twelve hours in a commercial flight? Six days by sea?’

‘I said you wouldn’t believe it.’

The problem is, I do believe it. I add super-cavitation drive to the list of reasons why Land Institute wants this ‘piece of junk’ submarine so badly. That kind of proprietary technology could turn the world upside down.

‘The Aronnax,’ I remember, my nerves crackling. ‘Any sign of them?’

‘None,’ Nelinha says. ‘Our course and bearing were pretty obvious. If the Aronnax has a cav-drive, they should have been able to follow us. Since they haven’t shown up yet, I think we can assume we have the advantage there.’

I exhale. We need all the advantages we can get.

On the other hand, we’ve left Lincoln Base at the mercy of the Aronnax. We’re stuck in the middle of the ocean with no propulsion, no allies and no friendly ports.

At least, I assume so …

I remember asking the Nautilus to take us somewhere safe. Did she pick this spot to drop out of cav-drive on purpose, or did she simply run out of steam?

‘Is there anything close to us?’ I ask.

Nelinha shrugs. ‘No secret bases that we can detect, if that’s what you mean. The Palau Trench is right underneath us – six thousand metres straight down. I wouldn’t want to lose dive control here.’

I feel like I already have. My brain is developing stress fractures. Why here? What now? How can I face my crew when my brother is the cause of all our problems and I led him right to us at Lincoln Base?

My knees give out. Ester grabs my arm to keep me from falling.

‘Ana, you have to sit down, at least,’ she insists.

‘I will,’ I promise. ‘In the main dining room.’ I look at Nelinha. ‘Gather the crew, will you? And, Ester, I’d appreciate some super-alt-tech aspirin if you’ve got any. This is going to be a tough conversation.’

A tough conversation, and also the world’s strangest brunch.

The table only has seating for eight. We bring in as many other chairs as we can find and put them around the walls. The furniture creaks and smells like mould, but the crew has done their best to clean up the space. The old mahogany tabletop gleams. The abalone chandelier glitters overhead. The silverware, each piece engraved with Captain Nemo’s crest, has been polished like new.

Jupiter has prepared a delicious selection of macroalgae sandwiches. He’s also baked several dozen chocolate-chip cookies, which reinforces my belief that he is the most essential member of this crew.

Ester wasn’t kidding about the number of injuries. Between us, we have enough bandages, splints, casts and slings to build a first-aid man.

Once everyone has had something to eat – it’s a very quiet meal – I finally speak.

‘Guys, I had no idea about Dev.’ I’ve practised what to say, but still I can hardly form the words. ‘I thought he was dead. What Dev did – I don’t even know the person who could do that to our school and our friends.’

I brush away a tear. I’ve known my classmates for two years, but right now I can’t read their expressions. Their blurry faces swim in front of my eyes. I wonder if this is how Ester feels all the time.

‘If you think I was involved somehow,’ I say, ‘I don’t blame you. At this point, I don’t trust me, either. I don’t own this ship. You deserve another vote about who will be in charge. Gem can take over, or anyone you choose … I guess I’m trying to say I’m sorry.’

The only sound is the distant hum of the air circulators.

‘Ana,’ Gem says at last, ‘nobody blames you.’

I stare at him. I’d be less surprised if he told me the ocean was purple.

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