Daughter of the Deep(78)

An idea comes to me – probably the worst one I’ve ever had. ‘Ester, can you hear me?’

‘I’M HERE,’ she says in my helmet. ‘Ana, that octopus is really close to you.’

‘I noticed. How would you feel about suiting up and joining us?’

‘Is that a joke?’ Ester asks. ‘I have trouble telling with your jokes.’

‘No,’ I assure her. ‘I need my animal specialist. And bring the keytar, will you? I think I understand why the Nautilus brought us here.’





As we wait, I try to keep Romeo engaged (probably a bad choice of words) by showing him sign language. I don’t expect him to understand, but octopuses are intelligent and highly curious. I hope I can at least give him something to think about besides making another pass at our ship.

Meanwhile, I’m also talking on the comm, explaining my idea to the crew – that maybe, just maybe, our submarine brought us here so we could find Romeo.

Gem is the only one whose face I can see. He does not look convinced. ‘It’s a stretch, Ana. How could the Nautilus know Romeo would be here? How long would an octopus this size live, anyway?’

It’s a good question. From what I remember about giant octopuses, they only live a few years. Then again, no octopus this large has ever been discovered.

‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘Romeo could be ancient, or a descendant of octopuses who have always lived here … At any rate, I don’t think the Nautilus would have brought us here just to get us killed. I think, in her own way, she’s trying to help us.’

Romeo gives me no indication of how he’s feeling. He could crush me easily, or chop me in half with his giant beak, but I try not to think about that. I still have his full attention. I want to keep it that way.

A-N-A, I sign for the tenth time. I am Ana.

I show him the name sign I’ve created for Romeo: the letter R, palm out, fingers crossed – a sign that could easily be made with two tentacles if he ever chooses to use it in a social situation with his monstrous octopus friends.

Gem checks the antique displays on his wrist control. ‘We have twenty minutes of air left, if I’m reading this gauge correctly.’

That’s not great news. At this depth, using unfamiliar equipment, we could easily find twenty minutes of air turning into ten, or five, or none, with no warning. We should be heading for the airlock right now, but I have a lot more work to do if I’m going to test my theory, plus there’s this giant octopus staring me down.

At last, the ship’s exterior lock irises open. Ester jets into the void with the keytar, like she’s about to take the strangest rock solo in history. She must have put unequal pressure in her boots, because she ends up spinning head over heels.

‘I HATE THIS,’ she announces.

‘Relax your feet,’ Gem advises. ‘Okay … now, left and right boots at the same time, one quick burst.’

She follows Gem’s directions. Slowly, awkwardly, she lurches towards us. Her face looks even more shocked than usual, floating in its purple glass fishbowl.

‘Oh, wow,’ she says. ‘Romeo’s big. He’s really pretty.’

I’m thankful she likes animals, even huge scary ones. We don’t need any more bladder accidents.

Ester floats closer and hands me the keytar. ‘Do you think I can touch him?’ she asks.

‘Well, I mean …’

She puts her hand gently on Romeo’s forehead. His skin quivers and pales, but his muscles seem to relax.

‘Okay.’ I shoulder the keytar. ‘Ester, I need you to watch Romeo’s responses. If I do something wrong, help me change course.’

‘What if things go really wrong?’ Gem asks.

His tone warns me how on edge he is. He has no weapons (thankfully), but he looks ready to drag me back to the ship or punch the octopus in the eye to give me time to escape.

‘It’ll work,’ I say.

I never realized how much of leadership is learning to sound confident when you’re actually terrified.

In truth, I have no idea whether my plan will work. I don’t know if I’m about to make a breakthrough in octopus–human communication or infuriate a one-ton lovesick cephalopod that could snap me like a twig.

‘Nautilus, I need your help,’ I say in Bundeli. ‘I think you brought us here to meet your … your friend. If that’s the case, help me talk to him.’

As I’m explaining to the Nautilus what I want to ask Romeo, I realize how many things could go wrong. Just translating from one language to another is hard enough. I’m trying to talk to a Victorian-era AI in a rare Indo-Aryan dialect, hoping she can help me accurately relay a message to a creature from another species. But I have to try. I’m a Dolphin. I believe that communication can solve any problem if the parties have the will and the intelligence to learn to understand each other.

I turn on the keyboard. I test a few notes. As Ester suspected, the instrument works just fine underwater. Over my comm, I can hear the notes resonating throughout the ship. I can also feel the vibrations rippling outwards from the hull, as if the Nautilus is acting as one massive amplifier.

I turn the keytar’s colour wheel. Romeo seems to find this fascinating. The lights reflect in his great dark eye like Christmas decorations through a rain-streaked window.