Daughter of the Deep(49)

That smells amazing, I tell him. Can I help?

He hands me a turnover. Taste this.

It melts in my mouth: butter that is not butter, perfect flaky crust that tastes nothing like seaweed, fruit filling that reminds me of pears and oranges but is probably from one of Nemo’s botany projects harvested fifty feet below.

If I lived here all the time, my cholesterol levels would go through the roof … Or did Nemo figure out a way around cholesterol, too?

Delicious, I say. Mary Berry would be proud.

Jupiter calmly signs, I love you. Then he waddles back to the kitchen. I nab a basket of pastries to take to my room – just for my friends, of course. I make a mental note to ask Jupiter if he can bake gujiyas. If not, I’ll have to teach him. Surely Mary Berry would approve.

I find Ester and Nelinha showered and dressed. They don’t seem worried about where I’ve been. They’re used to my morning dives.

‘Orangutan pastries?’ I offer.

‘Yes, please.’ Nelinha takes a turnover. She looks me up and down. ‘I’m glad you didn’t get zapped by any underwater defences in the lagoon.’

Her comment makes me feel dumb, because I didn’t even think of that.

Ester picks at the crust of a faux-apple tart. She’s wearing her pink blouse and pink leggings today. I assume that means she’s especially nervous, since pink is her comfort colour. Her hair, combed back in wet blond coils, is already drying and puffing out in different directions. Like Ester’s thought process, her hair always ends up doing what it wants.

‘I was thinking last night.’ She stares at my feet. ‘You remember how I said the Nautilus is dangerous? How I think it killed your parents?’

I nod.

It’s not like I could forget.

‘I think I understand now,’ she says. ‘After listening to Luca and Ophelia talk last night, I don’t think you should –’

Someone knocks on our door.

Ophelia pokes her head inside. ‘Ah, good. You’re all up.’

Her tone makes me suspect that she already knew this. There must be security monitors throughout the base, maybe even in this room.

Ester blushes and looks down. Top sits in front of her protectively, staring up at Ophelia as if to say, My human.

‘Ready?’ Ophelia asks me. ‘Are your friends coming?’

It takes my brain a moment to catch up. Of course. She means am I ready to see the Nautilus. Jupiter’s turnover does a turnover in my stomach. ‘Uh …’

‘Yes,’ Nelinha answers for me. ‘We’re coming.’

‘I’d like them to.’ I look at Ester. ‘If that’s okay.’

Ester nods. Her ears turn the colour of flame angelfish.

Behind her steel-framed glasses, Ophelia’s eyes look sad. I wonder if she’s remembering my parents. ‘Very well,’ she says. ‘This way.’

Top trots along beside us. He’s the only one who doesn’t look nervous. Ophelia leads us down a corridor that is perfectly round, like it was bored into the heart of the volcano by a single massive drill bit.

‘Is Luca coming?’ I ask.

‘He’s already there,’ Ophelia says.

I’m tempted to ask where exactly there is, but I have a feeling I’ll find out soon enough. I wonder if I should have waited for Gem to come with us. I imagine he’ll give me a hard time about that later. Somehow, though, I’m not sure a hyper-protective, heavily armed bodyguard would make me any safer this morning.

At the far end of the corridor stands a metal hatch that reminds me of an old bank-vault door.

‘Was – was this here before?’ I ask. ‘I mean, in Nemo’s time?’

Ophelia looks at me curiously. ‘What makes you ask?’

I have to think about this. The door’s plating and gear work don’t show any signs of wear or corrosion. The style is similar to other alt-tech devices I’ve seen, like the LOCUS and the Leyden cannon. But the vault door seems to radiate weight and power.

‘It seems old,’ I decide. ‘Like, really old.’

Ophelia gives me a dry smile. ‘Very astute, Ana. From this point forward, we will be entering Nemo’s original base. This door was sealed by Cyrus Harding shortly after Nemo’s death. It remained shut until we excavated it two years ago, when your father opened it.’

Ester hugs her shivering arms. ‘But the volcanic eruption destroyed the island. It said that in The Mysterious Island.’

‘Yes, well …’ Ophelia peers over the top of her glasses. ‘Harding and Pencroft may have stretched the truth a bit when they spoke to Jules Verne. Adventurers and treasure hunters were less likely to search for the island if they believed it had been obliterated.’

‘So the book lied.’ Ester sounds offended, as if her meticulous note cards have betrayed her. ‘That explains …’

She stops herself. In the dim overhead light of the corridor, her skin looks like stressed coral, slowly losing its healthy pink.

‘What is that metal?’ Nelinha asks our host. ‘It isn’t steel or brass. It doesn’t seem to corrode.’

‘Ingenious, isn’t it?’ Ophelia agrees. ‘For lack of a better term, we call it nemonium. We still have not managed to re-create the alloy, though we can work with it and repurpose old pieces for our own alt-tech. As far as we can tell …’