by Geonn Cannon
“We don’t actually have to wear those,” Dorothy said.
Huey smiled. “It’s more comfortable than it looks, I swear.” He walked over and patted the arm. “It doesn’t quite conform to your body, but it sort of feels like an ill-fitting suit. The mechanics at the back help keep the suit pressurized so you don’t have to worry about the bends. And of course you have the independent air supply.”
Dorothy said, “But the plan is to remain in the submersible at all times. We can tool around whatever we find, but its environmental controls will be enough to protect us.”
“Sure,” Huey said, “if everything goes perfectly. But what if there’s a leak and the compartment starts filling with water? You want to try getting into this thing in that cramped ship?”
Dorothy recalled the night before last, sitting in the copilot’s seat with Beatrice on top of her. It had been difficult enough getting out of their nightgowns. She didn’t want to think about trying to dress while her life was on the line.
“And if it does fill up with water, you just clap the helmet on and hook up these tubes. That will give you a few extra minutes of oxygen while we’re hauling you up. Could mean the difference between drowning and getting up on deck.”
“I suppose you have a point,” Dorothy said.
Trafalgar arrived and looked at the suits. “We don’t actually have to wear those, do we?”
Huey chuckled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You do if you want to survive.”
They allowed Huey and one of the deckhands to help them into the suits. Huey wasn’t lying about the fact it was more comfortable than it looked, although it would honestly have to be. For the sake of comfort, visibility, and maneuverability, they didn’t have to wear the helmets unless they became necessary. The collar where the helmet would attach was an iron ring around her throat that felt oddly like a yoke, and she found herself tugging at it to see if it would give a little more. They followed Huey out onto the deck with their heavy boots clunking with every step.
Beatrice was waiting to accompany them to the submersible, carrying Ignacio’s case in her right hand. Dorothy still hadn’t looked inside and, as far as she knew, neither had Trafalgar. She still wasn’t entirely convinced it would deliver what he’d promised, but she wasn’t going to risk being caught without it if something unexpected arose.
“Everything all right?” Dorothy asked under her breath so Huey wouldn’t hear. Magic was very well known, and the practitioners weren’t shunned, but she didn’t know who aboard the Cervantes was trustworthy. Any one of them could have been bought off by Virago. That was another reason she wanted Beatrice to remain on the surface; she wanted at least one person she could count on by the controls.
Beatrice nodded. “The magical protections I placed on the ship are holding. I don’t want to be too optimistic, but it should prevent any unforeseen mechanical failures.”
“Thank you, Trix.”
A small group of midshipmen were hovering around the submersible like a colony of ants that had found a toffee apple. They were moments away from arriving at the coordinates from Eula’s map, according to the crew, but Dorothy was mystified at how they could determine that fact. The sea was featureless in every direction save for a hint of land far behind them. Ahead and to all sides, the sky was perfectly clear and the water was like glass. There was hardly any line at the horizon, just a hazy area where the two shades of blue faded and mixed into a pale white.
Huey stopped next to the submersible. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you two are fast learners. I still wish I was the one going down there with you, but I’m confident you can handle it. When we start lowering you down, we’ll have a short window of opportunity where we can pull you up if anything goes wrong. But once you get past the point of no return... even if you contact us immediately and even if we react as quickly as humanly possible, you’re going so far down that we may not be able to rescue you.”
“We understand,” Trafalgar said.
Huey said, “Then what are we waiting for? You ladies have been sitting around long enough. Time to start your work.”
“To the bottom of the sea we go,” Dorothy said.
They climbed up the ladder, an act more difficult given their current outfits, and slid in through the hatch. Trafalgar had asked Dorothy to take the pilot seat so she could have a bit more legroom, so Dorothy angled herself to straddle the yoke. Trafalgar passed down their helmets and Ignacio’s case, then followed her in. At one point her boot nearly clocked Dorothy on the side of the head, but she swatted it away and leaned to the side until Trafalgar was safely inside. They strapped themselves into their seats and checked the instruments to make sure everything was on and functioning properly.
“Look at us,” Dorothy said. “One might think we actually knew what we were doing.”
“Don’t we?”
“We’re about to ride this metal bubble a thousand meters under the sea tethered to the surface by a spool of steel thread.”
Trafalgar said, “When you put it that way...”
Huey stepped in front of the ship and nodded at them through the glass. They both raised their thumbs as someone on top of the submersible shut the hatch and began to process of sealing it. Dorothy looked up at the only exit and tensed so that she wouldn’t shudder.
“Well, I suppose there’s no turning back now.”
“Your grandmother would have been very proud of you right now, Dorothy.”
She looked at Trafalgar, touched by the gesture. “Thank you. I hope you’re right.”
Metal screeched as the winch was activated. Dorothy braced herself against the wall as the submersible was lifted off its platform and moved carefully over the edge of the ship. They could see through the glass when they crossed over the railing and Trafalgar shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“Doesn’t seem natural, that’s all,” she said in response to Dorothy’s unasked question.
“It’s ridiculous. We’ve both been underwater before.”
Trafalgar nodded. “This is no different. Just deeper.”
“Right. Deeper... much deeper.”
They reached the water and, after a moment of resistance, began to submerge. Dorothy kept an eye on the instruments Huey had taught her how to read. Everything had seemed so simple on the deck; now she was questioning everything she had learned. Trafalgar watched for any signs of leakage, checking the monitors but also scanning for tell-tale drops or evidence water was seeping in through the seals. Everything was currently shining blue (“blue means good,” Huey had told them multiple times over the past four days, “yellow means bad. Red means... well, you’ll never see red.”), so Dorothy let out a sigh of relief and looked out the glass.
“Nowhere to go but down,” she said.
Trafalgar nodded.
Dorothy turned on the engine and felt it rumbling to life behind them. They had a range of a few hundred meters in every direction, but they’d been warned not to get overly adventurous. The submersible was lowered at a decent clip, just fast enough to be safe and not overtax the mechanisms on the ship or the engine. Dorothy took the opportunity to take out her camera and prepare the film. Taking pictures was all they could do for the time being, but she was anxious to get the best possible shots. Depending on what they found, it might be their only chance to get a look at the untouched site.
“What in the world is that?”
Dorothy looked up and Trafalgar pointed. She spotted a darker area of ocean that was currently far to the west of their current position but closing fast. Its movement was linear and unnatural, meaning it could only be a submarine of some sort.
“Virago.”
“How can you be certain?”
Dorothy glared at her.
“Fair enough.” The ship was closing in at a good clip. Soon it would be at the Cervantes’ position. “I’ll signal the ship to warn Beatrice about their approach.”
“Or...”
Trafalgar looked at her
.
“She could spot us, move to intercept, and sever the line. If you chose to signal the ship and ask them to bring us up, I wouldn’t argue with you.”
“Is that what you want?” Trafalgar asked.
Dorothy looked out the glass. “We’re so damned close. I’m not sure what I want. All I know is that it’s a risk. Continuing down could cost us our lives. I wanted to let you know I’m open to taking the safe route. I leave the decision up to you.”
The ship was now close enough for them to see details of its shape. It was closing fast on the Cervantes. Trafalgar unhooked the radio microphone and turned it on, searching for the proper signal before she spoke.
“Captain Mederos, this is Trafalgar. You’re about to have company, coming from the west. It’s a submarine, so you most likely won’t see them until they’re right below you.” She gave him the bearings as best she could figure from the instruments. “Judging by the speed, they’ll be there inside of ten minutes.”
There was a squawk of static before a man responded in broken English. “Shall we reel you in?”
Trafalgar shook her head. “No. We’re continuing down as planned.”
“Good luck with you, Miss Trafalgar,” he said.
“To you as well.”
She ended the connection and they both looked out as the underwater ship inched ever closer to its target.
“We can’t do anything to help them from down here,” Dorothy said. “Focus on the task at hand.”
“Right.”
Dorothy took the yoke in her hands even though they were only going straight down for the time being. It helped give her the illusion that she had some measure of control over whatever was going to happen next.
#
Beatrice happened to be passing by underneath the bridge when Captain Mederos pushed open the window and began shouting to his men in Spanish. It irritated her because she knew he could speak English. Choosing not to at this moment meant he was trying to keep her from overhearing the news. She would have to take him to task for that, but at the moment she had more pressing concerns. She understood enough to glean his message: there were pirates approaching.
She immediately broke into a run, stripping off her jacket and letting it fall to the deck behind her as she ascended to the bridge. Mederos looked surprised to see her, grimacing and turning his back on her to focus on the screens. She walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder so he couldn’t pull away from her. When she spoke, her words were in Spanish.
“Where is the attack vessel? I didn’t see anything.”
He stared at her for a moment, startled that she knew the language, but she was scanning the horizon. “The women saw a submarine.” He pointed at the radar. “Big one, too.”
Beatrice said, “Damn big. Trafalgar and Boone?”
“They said they didn’t want to be brought back up.”
She had to switch back to English. “Then we abide by that. Tell your men to get weapons.”
The captain shifted languages as well. “We know how to deal with pirates.”
“Normal pirates, maybe. These aren’t going to lie down easily.” She turned to leave the bridge. “Make sure your men are prepared. It’s going to be a tough fight.”
She returned to the deck and ran forward until she found Huey. He saw her coming and closed the distance between them.
“We should pull them back up.”
“They said not to.”
Huey said, “If anything happens to that wire--”
“They said not to,” Beatrice said again. She was entirely aware of the dangers involved, but she wasn’t about to drag either of them up against their will. If they believed they could continue with the mission, then Beatrice intended to honor that. “We need weapons.”
“We have weapons.”
She followed him along the port deck. She could see the submarine’s wake now, a massive bullet-shaped wedge in the water riding up alongside them. She was watching to see if it would surface when someone grabbed her arm. She turned to see someone vaguely familiar from the past four days aboard the ship but she couldn’t put a name to him.
“Bert,” he said to her confused expression. “Bert Carroll. Trafalgar and I--”
“Right,” Beatrice said. “You want to help. We’re on our way to get weapons.”
The rest of the crew was preparing for the submarine’s arrival by securing the access points below deck and posting guards around the engine room. Beatrice grabbed one of the men and ordered him to put a guard around the winch. If this was Virago - and she saw no possible way it could be anyone else - she didn’t want to give the woman any leverage.
Huey led them to the weapons locker and armed himself and Bert with a rifle he called a Smiler. “SMLE Rifle. Stands for short Magazine Lee-Enfield,” he explained as he handed it to Bert. “We’ve had these lying around since the War.”
He also gave them a Mauser and a Smith & Wesson. Beatrice took one of the handguns, a few grenades, and a Filipino bolo knife. She tucked the weapons into her belt. She preferred close-quarters combat to long-range options, but she also hoped they could hold off Virago’s people from boarding the Cervantes.
“Man in the water!” someone shouted from the foredeck. “We have men in the water!”
“What?” Beatrice muttered. She and Bert left the armory and ran in the direction the shout had originated from. Men were leaning against the railing and stretching their arms out to point into the water. Beatrice joined them at the edge and peered down. The submarine had broken the surface and hung beside them at a sharp angle. A hatch was open on the top and, as impossible as it was to believe, large shirtless men had jumped from the side of the ship into the teal Aegean waters. Two of them were currently swimming toward the Cervantes, while one was already gripping the anchor’s chain.
Bert said, “There’s something wrong with those men.”
Beatrice had seen it, too. The one climbing the chain had a blank look on his face, the look of a wooden toy or a drawing. His body seemed unusual as well, as if being in the water had made him less solid. As the thought occurred to her, a clump fell from his shoulder and plunked loudly beneath him.
“Golems,” she said. “Virago is sending us golems.”
Bert said, “Witchcraft.”
“Magic. You should be used to it by now.”
If he wasn’t, he was about to get a crash course in it. Knives and guns were all well and good, but there was no way she could defeat Virago and her golems without using some magic of her own.
Chapter Eighteen
Beatrice could see the crew preparing for battle further down the deck, arming themselves with the same war leftovers she had been given. Rifles and bayonets wouldn’t do much against the mindless drones Virago was sending up. A golem could sustain a startling amount of damage before it even started to slow down. They were strong and mule-headed. But she also knew they were generally made from earth materials; clay and stone, dirt, mud. Dov had called her an earth elemental, and she doubted there would ever be a better time to test the theory out.
“Bert,” she said, “hold onto me.”
“Uh...”
Beatrice was already climbing onto the railing, so Bert wrapped his fingers around the Y formed by her suspenders in the center of her back. She stood up straight and gathered energy into her cupped hands, waiting until she could feel it tickling her wrists and forearms before she let loose. She hit the golem on the anchor chain first, splitting him in half. The center of his torso was blown away, causing his legs to plummet and hit the golem beneath him. He dangled from the chain with a blank expression, still trying to achieve his goal. Beatrice thrust out her other arm and destroyed its head.
“More difficult than anticipated,” she said, “but not impossible.”
“Canastos,” Bert muttered. “How did you do that?”
“Very carefully,” Beatrice said. She was standing with the top rail against her knees. She knew that if she lost her
balance, she would most likely tip forward into the water. “Do not let go.”
Bert tightened his grip and used his other hand to grab her belt. Beatrice gathered more energy and focused two blasts at the golems still in the water. She broke the arm off one, but their buoyancy helped them absorb the blasts with minimal damage. She grimaced.
“I’ll have to wait until they start climbing the chain to destroy them.”
“Picking them off one at a time. Can you do that?”
She shrugged. “I’ll have to try.”
Huey joined them and looked down at the creatures. He watched as Beatrice wound up like a baseball player and hurled another burst of energy, knocking off the next golem’s head. His body fell lifelessly back into the water and joined the pieces of his cohorts. The limbs and broken bodies were beginning to fall apart and expand as they took on water.
“Huh. That’s not something you see a lot of,” he said in a quiet voice. “I guess that’s why Lady Boone is always calling you Trix, huh?”
Bert said, “Tell the men to aim at their heads. Whatever these things are, it ain’t human. They don’t have to worry about killin’ anything ‘cause I’m fairly certain they were never alive to begin with.”
“But they are strong,” Beatrice said “A good headshot is the only way to stop them.”
“I’ll spread the word,” Huey said.
Another golem had begun its ascent. Beatrice hit just below its shoulders and knocked it back into the water. Her fingers cramped and she could feel sweat on her forehead and upper lip. She counted four more creatures in the water. She didn’t know how many remained on the ship, but there had to be a finite amount. Virago couldn’t very well have filled the entire submarine with enough clay and mud to create an infinite army.
She was waiting for the next clay man to begin his ascent when Bert suddenly pulled her backward. He fell to the deck and she landed on top of him, her elbow digging hard into his gut as she struggled to get up.
“What in the blazes--”
Her question was cut off by the ping of a bullet striking the hull above their heads. The gunshot echoed over the water and she realized he had most likely saved her life by pulling her back.