by Gregory Mone
“I’m not sure we hit something,” Lewis said. “It felt more like something hit us.”
“But what?”
He heard more movement below them.
“Whatever it is, it’s still there,” Hanna said.
He pointed to the pads on Hanna’s armrests. “Maybe if you turn or roll the ship, we can shake off whatever’s on there.”
Another gentler thud sounded from below them.
Then another.
“Try turning,” Lewis said.
Hanna pulled her right hand back on one pad while pushing her left hand forward on the other one. At the same time, she pressed down with the heels of her hands, and the pads tilted back. Immediately the ship veered up and to the right, changing its course, but the noise on the bottom of the hull only grew louder. Now it sounded different, though. Almost like . . . knocking?
A speaker on the control panel began crackling with static.
“What’s happening?” Lewis asked.
“Maybe they’re trying to contact us.”
The static began to clear, and they heard what sounded like a voice. Lewis reached over to a knob below the speaker—the volume, he hoped. He turned it up.
“Let me in!”
Lewis looked over at Hanna. “That sounds like Kaya.”
There was no obvious microphone on the control panel. So Hanna just spoke, hoping there was a hidden one somewhere on the dashboard, and that their friend would hear them. “Kaya, is that you?”
“Yes, and I need you to stop turning the ship! I’m trying to get inside.”
“Where are you?” Hanna asked. “And what are you doing?”
“I’m latched on to the hull, and I need one of you to open the escape hatch—no, wait. Something’s coming from behind us. Can you hear me?”
Lewis started to answer, then flicked both his hands at Hanna, signaling for her to go ahead. “We can hear you!” Hanna said. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
And why was she holding on to the outside of their ship?
“I need you to turn again when I tell you turn.”
“Which way?” Hanna asked.
“Any way,” she said, “but do it quickly. When I say.”
“What’s going on out there?” Lewis asked. “What’s happening?”
“Ready?” Kaya asked.
Lewis and Hanna hurriedly buckled into their seats.
“Ready!”
“Wait . . . wait . . .”
Hanna held her hands over the pads. Lewis was frozen, gripping the armrests of his seat.
Kaya’s command blasted through the speaker. “NOW!”
The warship swung down and to the left, as if Hanna were planning to steer it straight into the seafloor. Holding on tight, Lewis stared out through the side of the ship and watched as something streaked past them, leaving a trail of bubbles that looked like the smoky tail of a rocket. “Was that a torpedo?” Hanna asked.
Whatever it was exploded, sending waves pulsing through the water in all directions.
Their warship flipped upside down and then turned over onto its side.
If Lewis and Hanna hadn’t buckled themselves in, they would’ve smashed into the windshield or been thrown around the rolling, tumbling ship like a pair of sneakers in a dryer. The aftershocks passed. Hanna moved her hands along the pads and righted the ship.
“See? They were lying to us,” Hanna said. “The whole time.”
A strange fish drifted into view outside Hanna’s side of the ship.
Lewis squinted, then pointed. No, that wasn’t a fish.
Kaya was swimming beside them, protected inside one of those underwater space suits Lewis had seen at the factory, with some kind of jet pack on her back. She was pointing to the underside of the ship.
“She’s trying to tell us something,” Lewis guessed. “Her radio must not be working.”
“The hatch,” Hanna said. “She said something about the escape hatch—her dad said you can use it to get inside. It could be like the transfer chamber in the factory. Get it open, Lewis.”
Lewis unbuckled himself. All he saw behind him were long benches on either side of the ship with storage racks above them. And a small bathroom at the back—he’d already made a quick visit, and had propped open the door afterward to air it out. “Nothing,” he said.
“What about down below?” Hanna guessed.
“There is no—”
He stopped, spotting a panel in the floor. The frame was wider than his shoulders but shorter than he was tall—about the size of someone from Atlantis.
“What do you see?” Hanna asked.
“Give me a second.”
“I don’t know if we have a second.”
A circle with a handprint in the center was etched into the metal. He placed his hand over the etching, pressed down, and turned the circle clockwise. The panel sprang up and slid to the side, revealing a thick window looking into a tub full of water with a girl in a space suit squeezed inside. “Kaya!”
“You’ve got her?”
Not yet. She was mouthing words, trying to tell him something, but he didn’t understand.
He watched her lips. Butt?
No.
Button.
Of course. She was telling him to search for a button, and he found one set into the frame. He pressed it with his thumb, and the glass immediately slid away. The chamber was closed below her, not open to the ocean, and Kaya quickly sat up and pulled herself out. Ice-cold water splashed across the floor and onto his lap. Lewis sealed the hatch shut again.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Kaya popped open her face mask, already rushing to Hanna’s side. She pulled off her helmet and tossed it on the floor.
“They’re attacking us,” Hanna said.
“Move over,” Kaya replied.
The girl from Atlantis tore off her dive gloves and leaned over the controls. Her hands frantically turned dials and flipped switches before she set them down on the steering pads. An alarm sounded. She turned and looked out the back of the ship. “Strap in, Lewis,” she warned. “There’s another one coming!”
The warship nosedived, then swung back up.
The explosion shook the ship before Lewis could strap himself down. The whole vehicle pulsed as he flew backward, somersaulting across the deck and into the tiny bathroom. He threw back his hands at the last second to protect his head from slamming into the toilet bowl.
His ribs felt busted. The bones in his hands felt like they’d splintered. It hurt to breathe. He crawled back to a bench seat just behind the pilot’s chair and buckled himself in. His pants were soaked, his bare feet frigid.
The ship accelerated, shooting through the water like a bullet. Kaya explained what had happened. She doubted her father would help her, and she’d heard the old man’s orders. So she had sent her dad back to headquarters in the shuttle, stolen one of the dive suits, and chased after them.
“You risked your life for us,” Hanna noted. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Lewis added. And he did appreciate it. Definitely. He just wasn’t exactly sure how it solved their problem. Now all three of them might get blasted out of the water. “What do we do now?”
“I have a way to guarantee your safety,” she said.
“We need to get out of range of those torpedoes,” Hanna said.
“As long as we’re in the water, we’re never out of range.”
“So then what’s your plan?”
She pointed ahead of them.
The dull light of the dome appeared in the darkness ahead.
The factory looked like a gigantic jellyfish sitting on the ocean floor. And they were driving toward it. Lewis felt faint. His head spun. Had they been tricked again? Had Kaya turned to her father’s side? “I don’t understand,” he said. “Wh-what are we . . .”
Hanna nearly screamed. “Why in the world are we going back to Atlantis?”
“Because they won’t kill one of their own,”
Kaya said.
Four ships circled ahead of them, near the factory, then swung around to point in their direction.
Something rose out of the base of the dome. “Another torpedo!” Lewis shouted.
Kaya calmly pulled back on the pads. Their warship slowed until it was hovering in place, suspended in the water. “It’s not a torpedo,” she said. “It’s a ship.”
The five ships roared out from around the dome like wasps bursting out of a shaken hive. Now it was five against one. This was her plan?
“What are you doing?” Hanna asked. “You’re putting us right in their line of fire!”
Kaya stared straight ahead. “I’m trying to talk. They’ll think we’re surrendering.”
The ships hovered in a starlike pattern.
“You sure about that?” Lewis asked.
Kaya reached over to a small pad attached to the control panel between her and Hanna. Her right index finger moved across the surface as if she were doodling. Low-level static bristled out of the speaker. Then a voice came through: “Give up control of the ship, and we will consider returning you to your cell.”
“I live in Ridge City, not in a cell,” Kaya answered. “My friends do not live in a cell, either, and they never will.”
Lewis heard muffled shouts through the speaker.
Then a familiar voice replied, “Kaya, please don’t tell me you are on that ship.”
“I am,” she said.
The lights of all five warships brightened at once, flooding their cabin. Lewis shielded his eyes with his arm. Hanna ducked. But Kaya sat taller. She leaned forward and stared defiantly through the glass. “You lied,” she said.
“You don’t understand. I didn’t know—”
Another voice came through the loudspeaker. “We have orders to fire, Heron. I don’t care who’s on that ship.”
“That’s Weed Chin!” Lewis shouted.
“What?” Hanna said. “Turn around, Kaya! This isn’t working.”
“You can’t kill an Atlantean,” Heron added, pleading with the others.
“Of course we can,” Weed Chin replied. “Erasers, ignore the engineer and fire on my count. Three—”
Her father shouted, “Kaya, MOVE!”
Kaya placed her hands on the pads. “Hold on!” she yelled.
Their ship raced up over the warships and the huge dome.
The whole vehicle shook from repeated explosions.
The ocean was rocking madly.
Yet the sub hadn’t sprung any leaks. They were still safe, still moving. Lewis turned to try and see the scene below them. The water was roiling. Huge clouds of muck and dust were exploding off the seafloor. “What’s happening?” he asked. “What are they doing?”
Another torpedo smashed against the side of the dome.
Kaya steered them back around. The clouds began to clear; the current was sweeping them away. By the light of the dome, Lewis saw three vehicles lying around the base. Or what was left of them, anyway. The ships were shattered. Even the metal hulls were busted into pieces.
“What happened?” Lewis asked. “Was that you, Kaya?”
“I didn’t fire,” she said.
“Over there!” Hanna shouted. “There’s another one coming over the top of the dome!”
Lewis spotted a second surviving warship closer to the seafloor. He pointed it out to Kaya. And then he noticed that neither ship was turning their way. The water had cleared; he was sure the Erasers could see them. “What are they doing?”
“They’re not firing on us,” Kaya said. “They’re firing on each other.”
A torpedo blasted out of the ship speeding over the top of the dome.
The warship near the seafloor swung hard to the right.
The undersea missile glanced off the side of the speeding ship and exploded in the muck.
Another thick cloud of seafloor debris bloomed to the size of the factory dome.
The first vehicle fired again.
And again.
Lewis couldn’t see anything in the cloud. The other ship had to be destroyed.
Why were they still here? Why were they watching the battle? They should have been speeding away as fast as possible. Lewis started to speak up when Hanna jumped in. “Kaya,” she began, “drive us out of here now!”
The girl from Atlantis was silent. “No,” she said. “Not yet.”
The ship that had fired the three torpedoes was turning their way.
She turned a dial on the dashboard. “Dad, is that you?” she asked.
“No, your traitor father is gone.”
Lewis recognized the voice of Weed Chin immediately. He was about to shout back at the kelp-bearded Eraser, but someone else replied first.
“No, I’m not gone,” Heron replied. “I’m right behind you.”
All three of them were watching the scene, so Lewis didn’t really need to point, but he did anyway. The last warship, the one they thought had been destroyed, had sped up out of the cloud of muck. Now, far below them, it hovered behind Weed Chin and launched its own torpedo. The Eraser turned his ship, but not soon enough.
The explosion spun the vessel.
A cloud of bubbles and debris erupted.
Another torpedo launched from the underside of Weed Chin’s hull.
No, not a torpedo—something smaller.
“He’s escaping,” Hanna said. “He must be wearing one of those suits.”
Kaya wasn’t paying attention to the escaping Eraser.
She was watching the factory.
A jagged crack had begun to spread out from where a torpedo had smashed into the glass.
The crack branched and widened, faster and faster.
Soon it had spread all around the dome.
And then, in a rush, the entire factory collapsed in on itself.
The weight of four miles of seawater drove the glass, the inner walls, and the thousands of ships below into the depths of what had been the factory’s lower floors. The force of the implosion roared back up and out through the water. Waves rocked their ship; Lewis gripped his seat as they were flipped over at least three times.
When the water finally calmed and Kaya had righted the vessel, he could only manage one word: “Wow.”
Kaya’s dad’s voice sounded through the speaker again. “Go,” he said. “Go quickly.”
“But Dad . . . what are you going to do?”
“Please, go,” he said. “I’ll take care of myself. Get your friends to safety, and tell the boy I’ll do my best to protect his father. Now hurry, Kaya. You don’t have much time. And you Sun People . . .”
Hanna leaned forward and spoke into the control panel. “Yes?”
“Take care of my daughter.”
Kaya didn’t reply, and she didn’t look back. Lewis watched tears pool in her eyes as she pressed forward on the pads, pushing the warship away from the ruined factory as fast as it would go. Not one of them spoke. Lewis couldn’t imagine what Kaya was thinking. But he counted each passing second, each minute that they powered through the darkness and a torpedo did not scream toward their stern.
Then Kaya exhaled dramatically.
This was their signal.
Hanna let out a whoop.
“We’re safe?” Lewis asked.
“I think so. Kaya?”
“Safer,” she replied.
The girl from Atlantis wasn’t really with them. Not entirely. He wondered where she’d gone in her mind. Home? Or to some other time, before she knew the truth about her father? The thought of his own dad, inside that ridge somewhere, lost in Atlantis—
“Music!” Hanna announced. She was out of her seat, clenching and unclenching her fists, walking in circles.
“What?” Kaya asked.
“This thing has speakers, right? We need music.”
“We’re probably out of range of the soundscape,” Kaya said. “I don’t think we’ll be able to pick up any of our stations.”
“Not your music,” Hanna said. �
��Our music.” She slipped the electronic ring off her finger. The little device had a speaker, but not a strong one. She turned it up as loud as possible. Lewis could barely hear a note.
“Let me try,” Kaya suggested, and she placed the ring over what Lewis guessed was a small microphone on the dashboard. Hanna tapped the metal, switching songs, as Kaya turned up the volume. Lewis didn’t love the tunes, but he didn’t care. Anything to get his mind off his father, her father, the idea that they would never be out of range of the torpedoes as long as they were in the water. Kaya wasn’t into the music choices either, though, so Hanna kept switching songs.
Then Lewis heard a familiar voice. This wasn’t a song, though.
“Stop,” he said. “Go back.”
Hanna scrolled back to the previous file; now she recognized the voice, too. “I totally forgot about this . . .”
Lewis was pointing at the dashboard, jabbing his finger. Was it really him? “What is this?” he asked.
“That’s your father speaking, isn’t it?” Kaya asked.
“He borrowed my ring to make a recording when his wristpad was full,” Hanna said. “When we were sneaking him through Edgeland.”
“Wait,” Lewis said. “Quiet.”
They were listening to one of the many voice memos his father had made since they’d left on their journey—the only one that hadn’t been handed over to the Erasers. A piece of his Atlantis journals. Now it felt like his dad was right there with them. He’d made the recording when he was hidden inside the tank and they were wheeling him through Edgeland like some giant illegal fish. Lewis couldn’t help smiling as he heard that low, growling voice. Sure, they’d told him to stay hidden under the tarp. But his father hadn’t been able to resist peeking out.
“I’m in some kind of tank used for storing rare fish,” his father said. “I’m too large to be seen on the street. Note to self: Eleven cookies per day might be too many. Ha, ha. No, it’s the height. They’re all small here. And the streets . . . do they even call them streets? Don’t know. Will find out. They told me to remain hidden, but there’s too much to see. A slight opening between the tarp and the top of the tank, just enough for me to peek out. Shops line the streets, walkways, whatever you call them. Strange fish in the windows . . .” There was a pause as he stopped to study his surroundings. Lewis heard his own voice in the background of the recording. Hanna’s, too. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder as his father started talking again. “And the gadgets in the stores! The devices here are like none I’ve ever seen. No screens. All audio and touch. Oh, and the crowds, the crowds, the crowds! Never would’ve thought there’d be so many people down here. Life is everywhere. In all forms. Vibrant, stinking, sweaty life.