Daughter of the Deep(26)

What do you do with that information?

You’re now the most important person in the world. You have to decide the fate of your friends and classmates. By the way, your parents died during the discovery of a make-believe super sub from the 1800s.

Me … I call for a slumber party.

I ask Ester and Nelinha if they’ll bunk with me in the captain’s cabin. I don’t want to be alone in that huge room, even if I do have my teddy dolphin, Socrates. I want Ester’s reassuring puff-puff-snore nearby, and the rustle of Nelinha’s satin hair bonnet whenever she turns her head on her pillow. I want Top’s warm doggy smell and his contented sighs as he curls up at Ester’s feet.

Once we’ve settled in for the night, Gemini Twain checks on me one last time. He tells me that the bridge is maintaining a general westerly course until I say otherwise. He will check back with us in the morning.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Thanks. Goodnight.’

Gem gives me an uneasy look. Maybe he sees me differently now that he knows I’m related to a famous outlaw/madman/genius/submarine captain. Or maybe he’s contemplating sleeping outside our door all night in case someone else tries to kidnap me. I hope it’s the former.

Nelinha and Ester insist that I take the bed. They are happy with their bedrolls. I figure we’ll stay up talking for hours. This day has been a smoking crater of misery. My mind is racing, and I have so many emotions to process. How could I possibly sleep? But, as soon as I lie down on that comfy full-size mattress, exhaustion kicks in. My body says, Nope, you’re done, girl. And I pass out.

I always sleep well at sea.

That night I have vivid, fragmented dreams, mostly about smells. After temple, sandalwood incense clings to my mother’s sari as she hugs me close, laughing at some silly joke I’ve made. We stand together in the kitchen during Holi, watching pastries bake in the oven. My mouth waters from the maddeningly delicious scents of cardamom, khoya and coconut. Then my father is carrying a very small me. I pretend to remain asleep so I can enjoy the feel of my cheek pressed against the warm crook of his neck. His clove-scented aftershave makes me think of pumpkin pie. Then my brother is holding my hand as he walks me home after a fistfight in elementary school. He’s really not much older than me, but he seems so mature. Dev’s voice is soothing but also deeply offended. He tells me other people are stupid not to respect me. I am brilliant and powerful and deserve the world. My busted mouth tastes of copper. We walk past the honeysuckle blooming at the end of our block. From then on, the sweet smell of honeysuckle will always make me happy. It makes me want to hit Maddy White on the playground all over again, just so my brother will compliment me and walk me home.

I wake to the sound of voices. Ester and Nelinha are standing over me, having a hushed argument. Somehow, I’ve slept through them getting up, hitting the showers and getting dressed. Outside, it’s daylight. Socrates’s giant aquatic hamster tube is empty. He must be out hunting for breakfast. I can’t remember the last time I slept past dawn.

Nelinha notices my eyes are open. ‘Hey, babe. How are you feeling?’

I prop myself up on my elbows.

Top rests his chin on my leg and gives me his Get up! grunt. Everybody’s a critic.

I guess yesterday really happened. Harding-Pencroft is gone. Dev is gone. I’m at sea … literally and emotionally. How do I feel?

‘I – I’m awake,’ I decide. ‘What’s going on?’

Nelinha gives Ester a cautionary look, like, Remember what we talked about.

‘The good news is he’s not dead,’ Ester says.

Nelinha throws her hands in the air. ‘Ester …’

‘Well, you told me to start with the good news,’ Ester protests. ‘That’s the good news. He isn’t dead. Not yet.’

‘Who …?’ A spark of hope flickers through my still-groggy mind. For half a second, I wonder if she could mean Dev. But Ester doesn’t let me dream.

‘Dr Hewett,’ she blurts out. ‘Franklin found him unresponsive in his cabin.’

Dread washes through me.

‘Show me.’ My body somehow manages to find more adrenalin. I’m still in my cotton shorts and sleep shirt, but I don’t care. My heart pounds as we hurry down the corridor.

Gemini Twain guards the door to the sickbay. He looks as if he hasn’t slept all night. Inside, Franklin Couch and Linzi Huang stand on either side of Dr Hewett, who lies unconscious on a hospital bed. He’s hooked to an IV and several monitors. The straps of his oxygen mask make his grey hair bristle like the fins of a lionfish. I’m no medic, but his vitals don’t look good on the displays. Top finds the sickbay smells very interesting … until Linzi shoos him away.

Linzi’s eyes are bloodshot, and a surgical mask hangs from her right ear. ‘We ran the most comprehensive blood panel we could with our onboard equipment. His liver function and complete blood count are both off. Blood sugar is high. Our best guess is late-stage cancer, maybe pancreatic, with type-two diabetes, but we’re not set up for advanced diagnostics, much less treatment. He needs immediate medical help.’

‘Except Gemini here,’ Franklin growls, ‘won’t let us put out an SOS.’

‘The professor’s orders.’ Gemini’s voice cracks on the word professor. ‘Complete radio silence no matter what. If Land Institute finds us …’