‘But –’ Her voice breaks. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘Romeo needs a cold shower.’
A moment later, white jets of aerated water erupt from the prow, sheathing the Nautilus and crashing into the octopus’s tentacles like an avalanche.
Romeo shudders. His bulbous head pulses, probably from serious brain freeze.
‘Once more!’ I say.
Another blast, and Romeo lets go of the ship. He lurches away, spewing a cloud of ink so vast that it engulfs everything. I can’t see Gem, or the Nautilus, or the octopus. The only sound in my helmet is my own ragged breathing.
‘Cooper?’ I call. ‘Anyone?’
Static.
‘We’re here,’ Cooper says at last. ‘We’re okay. That was intense.’
‘Is the octopus gone?’ Gem asks.
‘Uh …’ Cooper hesitates, perhaps checking his LOCUS displays. ‘Actually, guys …？’
Before he can finish, the ink cloud dissipates and gives me my answer. Romeo has not left. He is, in fact, floating right in front of me, his giant eye reflecting my entire form like a full-length mirror.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but his gaze seems hurt, offended, as if he’s thinking, Why did you do that to me?
‘Hey, Ana?’ Gem’s voice sounds unusually high. ‘How ’bout we don’t make any sudden moves?’
I try to stay calm. This is surprisingly hard to do with a one-ton octopus in my face. If Romeo wanted to kill me, though, I would already be dead. He just keeps looking at me as if waiting for something. I consider the way he showed up as soon as the Nautilus put on her light show. I think about colours, and lights, and the electrical impulses octopuses use to communicate.
An idea comes to me – probably the worst one I’ve ever had. ‘Ester, can you hear me?’
‘I’M HERE,’ she says in my helmet. ‘Ana, that octopus is really close to you.’
‘I noticed. How would you feel about suiting up and joining us?’
‘Is that a joke?’ Ester asks. ‘I have trouble telling with your jokes.’
‘No,’ I assure her. ‘I need my animal specialist. And bring the keytar, will you? I think I understand why the Nautilus brought us here.’
As we wait, I try to keep Romeo engaged （probably a bad choice of words） by showing him sign language. I don’t expect him to understand, but octopuses are intelligent and highly curious. I hope I can at least give him something to think about besides making another pass at our ship.
Meanwhile, I’m also talking on the comm, explaining my idea to the crew – that maybe, just maybe, our submarine brought us here so we could find Romeo.
Gem is the only one whose face I can see. He does not look convinced. ‘It’s a stretch, Ana. How could the Nautilus know Romeo would be here? How long would an octopus this size live, anyway?’
It’s a good question. From what I remember about giant octopuses, they only live a few years. Then again, no octopus this large has ever been discovered.
‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘Romeo could be ancient, or a descendant of octopuses who have always lived here … At any rate, I don’t think the Nautilus would have brought us here just to get us killed. I think, in her own way, she’s trying to help us.’
Romeo gives me no indication of how he’s feeling. He could crush me easily, or chop me in half with his giant beak, but I try not to think about that. I still have his full attention. I want to keep it that way.
A-N-A, I sign for the tenth time. I am Ana.
I show him the name sign I’ve created for Romeo: the letter R, palm out, fingers crossed – a sign that could easily be made with two tentacles if he ever chooses to use it in a social situation with his monstrous octopus friends.
Gem checks the antique displays on his wrist control. ‘We have twenty minutes of air left, if I’m reading this gauge correctly.’
That’s not great news. At this depth, using unfamiliar equipment, we could easily find twenty minutes of air turning into ten, or five, or none, with no warning. We should be heading for the airlock right now, but I have a lot more work to do if I’m going to test my theory, plus there’s this giant octopus staring me down.
At last, the ship’s exterior lock irises open. Ester jets into the void with the keytar, like she’s about to take the strangest rock solo in history. She must have put unequal pressure in her boots, because she ends up spinning head over heels.
‘I HATE THIS,’ she announces.