Daughter of the Deep(89)

Gem collapses. Dev kicks his gun across the deck.

I step back, my heart in my throat. Gem’s second P226 quivers in my hand like a dowsing rod.

My brother glares at me. His hair has its usual cowlick crest along the front, but I don’t find it endearing any more. It looks like something dark and menacing is trying to push its way out of his skull. Somehow, he must have repaired the skiff well enough to intercept the Varuna. Where the rest of his boarding party went, I have no idea, but Dev by himself is enough of a problem. Water trickles down the black neoprene of his wetsuit. It’s the same one he wore the last morning we dived together – emblazoned with the logo of the HP Shark captain. I tighten my grip on the gun.

Dev sneers, tossing aside his wrench. ‘You’re really going to shoot me? Go ahead.’

God, I want to. I know the bullets are non-lethal. I hate that my trigger finger is rebelling against me. But Dev is still my brother. No matter what he’s done, I find shooting him at point-blank range very difficult to manage.

‘I thought so,’ he growls. ‘Stupid little girl, you’ve ruined everything.’

Then he charges at me.





The two of us have had the same combat training, but Dev has had years’ more practice.

He grabs my wrist, slapping the gun from my hand, then steps in and twists, attempting to throw me over his shoulder. I use the ‘boneless toddler’ defence, collapsing so my entire body weight works against him. He shuffles, off-balance, and I turn my fall into a backwards roll, leveraging Dev’s own grip to pull him with me. He sails over my head and crashes into the starboard gunwale.

One point for Ana.

My wounded side is on fire. I can feel warm blood trickling down my belly. I struggle to my feet. Dev rises, looking unperturbed.

‘You’re wounded,’ he notes.

He has the audacity to sound concerned. His earlier words still drip in my mind like hydrochloric acid. Stupid little girl.

‘You’ve already lost, Dev.’

‘I don’t think so. We’ve got enough tech and data now to make our next Aronnax a Nautilus-killer. And I don’t think your friends will be bothering this boat with your poor sick professor on board.’

He attacks with a flurry of punches that forces me back to the port railing.

I block, parry and dodge, but my limbs are growing heavy. My head feels like it’s floating on my neck.

I sidestep and trap Dev’s arm, hoping to dislocate his elbow. But he knows that move too well. He sinks on one leg and sweep-kicks me off my feet. I roll out of the way and come up just in time to block his next kick.

He backs away, giving me time to breathe. ‘We don’t have to fight, Ana. We’re still family.’

My weakness is making him calmer, kinder. I hate this about him. He likes me being his needy little sister – the junior Dakkar.

‘Yes, we’re family.’ I wince as I regain my footing. ‘Which is why your betrayal hurts so much.’

I push him across the deck, determined to wipe that smug smile from his face, but he easily parries my attacks.

The Varuna speeds through the break in the atoll. The midday sun bakes my shoulders. My nemonium drysuit is light and flexible, but it was not designed for surface hand-to-hand combat. I am breathing hard, slowing down, wearing myself out. Dev knows it.

Anger gives me momentum.

I feint with a jab step, then land a punch to Dev’s gut. My gym teacher, Dr Kind, would have been proud. Unfortunately, I’m too dizzy to follow through. I stagger away, wheezing, while Dev cradles his sore stomach.

‘I’m not the traitor, Ana,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘Harding-Pencroft got our parents killed. HP could’ve used Nemo’s tech a hundred times to save the world. Instead they kept it locked up. They shut us out of our inheritance.’

I glance over at Gem, still lying facedown on the deck. His fingers are twitching, but there’s no way he’ll be battle-ready any time soon. At least no Land Institute upperclassmen are running onto the deck to help Dev.

It’s just me and my brother. Like old times. Except completely different.

‘The Nautilus isn’t our inheritance,’ I say. ‘The Nautilus belongs to herself.’

‘Herself?’ Dev scoffs. ‘Come on, Ana. It’s a machine made by Prince Dakkar. It belongs to us!’

He lunges, trying for a full-body tackle. I dance out of his path, though my ‘dance’ is more of a clumsy stumble. My chest wound throbs. The inside of my drysuit is lacquered with warm, sticky blood.

‘I thought about telling you,’ Dev continues, as if we’re having a casual conversation, ‘but you weren’t ready. You didn’t know about alt-tech. You didn’t understand what HP had done to our family. They still have you fooled. It’s time to wake up.’

I scream and charge. It’s not my smartest move. I feint a punch, try to knee him in the groin, but he’s expecting that. He blocks, then tosses me aside like a practice dummy. I land hard on my butt. Pain flares up my spine.

‘Give it up,’ Dev snaps. ‘Don’t be stupid.’

Stupid little girl.

Behind me, my fingers close around textured metal. One of Gem’s pistols.

‘I’ll admit, I underestimated you,’ Dev says. ‘That giant octopus …’ He shakes his head. ‘You’ll have to explain how you pulled that off. But you don’t belong at HP any more than I do. We’re going to board the Nautilus together, and you’re going to surrender command to me. I will take what’s rightfully mine.’