The airlock drains quickly. That’s good, since I’m sucking the last molecules of oxygen from my helmet. Thankfully, the nemonium suits are self-regulating, so we won’t have to spend hours decompressing.
I’m just removing my helmet when Nelinha opens the interior door. She marches in, Top right behind her. The dog sniffs my suit, letting me know I smell like pee. Nelinha glares at me angrily. ‘Are you crazy, risking yourself like that?’
I give her a big wet hug.
‘I love cephalopods,’ I tell her. ‘You, the rest of your team and the giant one outside. You’re all wonderful.’
Nelinha scowls at Gem. ‘Does she have nitrogen narcosis? Did you break my Ana?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Gem says. ‘She was like that when I found her.’
‘That octopus is amazing,’ Ester says.
Top barks.
‘Not as amazing as you,’ Ester assures the dog.
‘Get the crew ready,’ I tell Nelinha. ‘I’ll explain my plan. Then we’re going to war.’
The best lesson I ever got in military-tactics class wasn’t even from a naval officer. It was an army saying attributed to Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Allied Commander during World War II: Plans are worthless, but planning is everything.
That’s how I feel, talking to my crew. We go over every possible scenario. I tell them what I think Dev will do. We come up with Plans A, B and C, knowing we’ll probably throw all of them out in the heat of combat. But at least the discussion helps us wrap our minds around the challenges we’re facing. They are considerable.
Finally, I explain my ace-in-the-hole strategy, or more specifically octopus-in-the-hole. After a full week of crazy stuff, the idea takes us to a whole new level of bonkers.
But the crew agrees that it’s worth a try. If we can do it without breaking into a million pieces, all the better.
Three hours later, I’m on the bridge. All stations are manned. We’ve repaired our systems as best we can without dock facilities. We’ve got working dynamic camouflage, electrifiable hull plating, Leidenfrost shielding and some really cool mood lighting. The fore and aft Leyden cannons are operational, along with two somewhat questionable torpedoes.
Best of all, our special cargo has been loaded into the sheath along the ship’s belly.
Ester and Robbie return to the bridge after a visual inspection, both of their dive suits still dripping wet.
Robbie looks shell-shocked. ‘That was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘You mean amazing,’ Ester says.
I can’t believe it actually worked. I find myself grinning.
‘Don’t celebrate yet,’ Gem warns. ‘The extra weight may make it impossible for us to use the cav-drive.’
‘I heard that,’ Nelinha says from the engine room. ‘Don’t bad-mouth my engines, Spider-Man. They’ll do just fine. Captain, waiting on your orders.’
I take my chair. I strap myself in with a newly installed alt-tech modification the Cephalopods call a ‘seat belt’ （patent pending）。
I open ship-wide communications. ‘All hands, this is the captain.’ As if they don’t know me. ‘We’ve worked hard for this moment. You all know your jobs. We can do this. Assuming our course is plotted correctly –’
‘It is,’ Halimah assures me.
‘Our cavitation shot will be two hours forty-six minutes, exit point-two kilometres south-southeast of Lincoln Base. Brace for cav-drive. Stand by battle stations. We have to expect the Aronnax will see us when we arrive.’
‘They will,’ Gem mutters. ‘The cav-drive will make us light up like an explosion.’
‘Let’s not talk about explosions,’ I say. ‘I’ll need quick targeting resolution when we arrive, Mr Twain. Watch that LOCUS.’
He gives me a faint smile, then puts one fist on his chest and bows slightly. ‘Aye, Captain.’ He turns back to his console.
Not long ago, I would have assumed Gem was making fun of me. Now, I realize he’s offering me a genuine show of respect and deference. The rest of the bridge crew smiles in turn and looks to me for orders. It’s time to go to work.
I square my shoulders. ‘Helm,’ I say, ‘set course.’
‘Course set, aye,’ says Halimah.
‘Engine room.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Punch to cav-drive.’
FOOOM!
This time I remain conscious, so I can appreciate the display. Torrents of air sheet over the prow, whiting out the windows like a blizzard. The extra G-force pushes me into my seat. The lights dim. The hull creaks and shivers, but the ship stays together.