Daughter of the Deep(15)

His tone is so bitter I wonder if I was wrong to suspect him. He sounds genuinely disgusted with his former employer. I just wish I understood why he left them and graced us with his presence.

‘The range of the Leyden guns is limited,’ he continues. ‘However, any contact with the target’s body will release the charge. You will find the guns accurate to a hundred feet.’

‘One third the range of my regular handguns,’ Gem mutters.

‘Let us hope you do not have to test your skills with either type of weapon,’ Hewett says dryly. ‘But we must be prepared. There are three more boxes like this one in the armoury. I’ve set the locks to open to the fingerprint of any prefect. Mr Twain, arm your Sharks first. Then the rest of the crew.’

Tia is shaking her head. ‘Sir … how do these things even work? They shouldn’t be possible.’

Hewett grimaces – his famous Lord, give me patience expression. ‘Prefect Romero, the impossible is merely the possible for which we don’t yet know the science.’

‘But –’

‘I understand it is a lot to absorb,’ he says. ‘Normally during freshman trials, I would introduce the Leyden gun and leave it at that for the day. I’d save the more outlandish alt-tech for Saturday and Sunday.’

‘Alt-tech?’ Franklin asks.

‘More outlandish?’ Gem sounds excited, like he’s volunteering for further target practice.

‘Unfortunately,’ Hewett says, ignoring both questions, ‘we don’t have the luxury of time. To survive, we will need everything we have. Miss Romero, you see that case against the far wall? You remember my lecture on opto-electric camouflage, I hope.’

Tia blinks. ‘Like the skin of an octopus.’

‘Exactly. That case contains projection modules. They must be installed around the exterior of the hull, just above the waterline at one-metre intervals. Do you understand?’

‘I … Um, yes?’

‘Good.’ Hewett glances out of the window. He looks frustrated to see how close we still are to shore. ‘Mr Couch, there’s another case on the bench just behind you. Inside is a pulse-dispersion unit. Please install it on the forward deck. It should jam any radar or sonar.’

‘Uh …’ Franklin’s face is turning almost as blue as the streak in his hair, like he’s forgotten to breathe for the last several minutes. ‘Okay, sir.’

‘Now, Miss Dakkar –’

‘Alt-tech,’ I blurt out.

I feel like I’m emerging from a trance, or maybe going into one. At this point, I’m not sure I’d know the difference. I don’t even correct Hewett on the Miss Dakkar thing, which I find incredibly patronizing.

‘Your class,’ I say. ‘Theoretical Marine Science. All the bizarre, dangerous tech you talked about. It isn’t theoretical at all, is it?’

He gives me that sad expression again. ‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry.’

This apology scares me worse than anything he could have said. And my dear? He’s only ever called me Prefect Dakkar (my correct title), or Miss Dakkar (which I hate), or sometimes hey, you if he’s feeling particularly perky.

It seems dangerous to keep asking questions. It feels like I’m standing on the highest cliff I’ve ever dived from. I take the plunge anyway. ‘You said Jules Verne reported a few things correctly. You didn’t say he foresaw or imagined. Are you telling us the events in those novels actually happened?’

Hewett sets down his Leyden gun. His fingertips linger over the elaborate wiring on the barrel. ‘The age-old question: where do authors get their ideas? In the case of Verne, the answer was personal interviews. He heard rumours. He sought eyewitnesses. Those witnesses lied to him about certain details to protect themselves. Verne changed other facts to make his stories read like, well, stories. But yes, my dear, the bulk of those tales is true.’

A fragile silence descends on the bridge. The only sounds are the hum of the engines and the thump of waves breaking on the prow. The other prefects look dazed. When Hewett talks again, they lean in, as if trying to hear a voice from a century-old phonograph.

‘Since the school’s founding,’ he says, ‘we have been able to reproduce some of Nemo’s alt-tech. Much of it we still do not understand. The mission of Harding-Pencroft is to safeguard his legacy, keep his technology out of the hands of human society, and thwart Land Institute, which would use alt-tech to dominate the world. I’m afraid, as of today, the balance of power that has existed between our schools for nearly a hundred and fifty years has been broken. Land Institute is on the verge of final victory.’

I study Dr Hewett’s aggrieved expression. My nerves feel like a shoal of herring all swimming frantically in different directions. Finally, I can’t contain the chaos any more. I burst out laughing.

I must look like I’ve gone crazy. I can’t help it. My life has been upended again. I’ve lost my brother, my school, my future. I’ve been running on adrenalin for hours. And we’re talking about Captain Nemo!

I hug my ribs. I wheeze and blink away the tears. I’m pretty sure that when I stop laughing, I’ll cry myself to death. Franklin steps towards me. He must sense I’m near a breakdown. Even Gem and Tia look worried.

Hewett’s eyes remain as dark as squid ink. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Dakkar.’