Daughter of the Deep(59)

I imagine my ears are as bright red as Lee-Ann’s, and it’s not because I’m about to tell a lie. I have trouble taking compliments. I tend to assume the other person is just trying to be nice or sparing my feelings. But Gem isn’t like that. He’s a straight shooter. And he’s just hit my body centre mass with some praise I never expected. ‘Well … thank you.’

In the doorway, Franklin coughs. ‘Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Gemini is right. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to change my patient’s catheter, unless you two want to stay and help.’

Franklin knows how to clear a room. I head back to the dining hall with Gem right behind me, and for the first time I’m glad to have him at my shoulder.





That afternoon, we take the entire crew aboard the Nautilus for the first time.

I’m worried about the submarine’s reaction. The sounds of power tools, vacuums and kids yelling back and forth is probably the most noise this sub has heard since before Queen Victoria was crowned Empress of India. The Sharks form a bucket brigade to remove goop, along with ruined furniture and mouldy artwork. After a few hours, the pile of gross stuff on the pier looks like a garage sale barfed up from the belly of a whale.

Despite all the noise and activity, Ester assures me that the Nautilus is content.

‘She likes having a crew again,’ Ester tells me. ‘She likes being cared for.’

I’m glad for that. I don’t want to put my friends in any more danger. On the other hand, I struggle to contain my resentment and worry. Do we really want to care for this submarine? Do I trust her after what she did to my parents? I wonder what Nemo would tell me. Did he die aboard his ship because he loved it so much, or because it became his personal prison?

Thankfully, I don’t get much time to brood. The crew keeps me busy whenever they find something that needs opening, which happens roughly every six seconds. Among our finds: the weapons bay, with a complement of four very old but probably still dangerous alt-tech torpedoes. We decide to leave those alone for now and hope they don’t blow up.

The dive chamber has a dozen sets of nemonium-mesh dive suits, helmets and tanks. Just cleaning these, figuring out how they work and testing them for usability could take another month.

On the bottom level of the sub (there are three levels total), we find a shuttle bay with a smaller mini sub nested inside.

‘That’s the skiff,’ Ophelia informs me. ‘And, no, we haven’t tried it yet.’

She shrugs and blows a strand of grey hair from her eyes. I’m starting to appreciate just how much work she and Luca have done on the Nautilus, and how much remains to be done.

The skiff itself is fascinating. It has seats for two, under a transparent dome that is sleeker in profile than the eyes on the bridge. The body construction is likewise smooth and hydrodynamic, with small pectoral stabilizers and a tapered serrated tail. It looks like it was modelled after a bluefin tuna, one of the fastest fish in the world. How it moves, though, I can’t imagine. I see no room for any kind of engine.

On an external inspection of the hull, scuba divers Kay and Tia discover a large hollow sheath on the underbelly of the sub, like a cross between the open mouth of a baleen whale and the air intake on a fighter jet, but no one can figure out what it’s for. Like most of our other discoveries, we don’t mess with it.

By the evening, the crew is exhausted but still buzzing with excitement. They can imagine a future for HP again, at Lincoln Base. We’ll work on the Nautilus all summer, or longer if need be, taking our time to learn the submarine’s secrets. We can put its technology to use, building up an unbeatable edge against Land Institute. Then … Well, then we will have options. We can come out of hiding, let our loved ones know we survived. We can rebuild our school and hold LI accountable for their attack.

I don’t trust these dreams any more than I trust the Nautilus. But I smile and nod and let the others talk. I think about what Gem told me – how he’s glad I’m in charge. Why, then, do I feel like such a fraud?

For dinner, our orangutan chef feeds us homemade seaweed gnocchi in creamy lemon garlic sauce, followed by a delicious tiramisu cake. Because clearly we all need more caffeine and sugar.

Afterwards, Jupiter is in such a generous mood he lets some of the crew switch off The Great British Bake Off so they can play retro games on the PlayStation and GameCube. Others volunteer to return to the Nautilus with Luca for some nighttime ‘detail work’. I’m not sure what that means. I’m afraid tomorrow morning I’ll find the Nautilus’s hull decorated with airbrushed flames.

I don’t even see Nelinha until bedtime. Ester is already snoring when my Cephalopod friend arrives, grinning and covered in machine grease.

‘Luca says we’ll take the Nautilus for a short spin tomorrow,’ she whispers to me, ‘if you can convince it to move!’

I suppose I should be thrilled. I might achieve what every Dakkar since the 1800s has dreamed of: getting the Nautilus back into action.

‘Yeah.’ I try to sound enthusiastic for Nelinha’s sake. ‘That would be amazing!’

But I go to sleep more unsettled than ever.

I feel like someone has opened my brain’s access panels and started cleaning out all the excess goop. I’m not sure I want them in there, removing the residue and debris of my life. Who will I be when they’ve finished their repairs?