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As soon as those words are out of my mouth, I think,How can I promise that?
‘Prefects, to the bridge with me,’ I say, my legs shaking. ‘Everyone else, to your assigned stations. We’ve got work to do!’
It’s only seventy-two more hours, I tell myself.
Then we’ll either find help at this secret base … or we’ll most likely die.
Turns out running a ship is hard work.
I guess I should’ve known this. I’ve been on theVarunaenough times before. But I’ve never been in charge of an entire crew, especially not one trying to figure out crates full of Nemo-based alt-tech.
My meeting with the prefects goes well enough. We organize our assignment schedule and daily shifts. One Dolphin and one Shark will be on the bridge at all times as quartermaster and officer of the deck. Orcas and Cephalopods will conduct a careful unpacking and analysis of our gold-level tech. Linzi and Franklin will alternate in the sickbay looking after Dr Hewett. Everyone will take turns preparing meals, keeping an inventory of supplies, monitoring the critical systems and cleaning theVaruna. (Ships get dirty quickly with twenty-one people and a dog on board.) Meanwhile, Top will follow Ester around and look cute. Socrates will come and go as he pleases, eating fish and playing in the ocean. Why do the animals get the best jobs?
Once all that’s decided, I set our course. I figure we’ll have to risk travelling in a straight line to the island. We don’t have enough time or supplies to be tricky and zigzag around theocean, hoping to throw off any pursuers. Hewett’s advanced camouflage and anti-sonar tech had better work.
I leave Virgil Esparza and Dru Cardenas in command for the first watch. Tia Romero stays on the bridge, too. She’s been working on Dr Hewett’s control pad, trying to get access and route the encrypted data to the onboard computer. I wish her luck, though I’m not sure I can handle any more mind-blowing secrets that Dr Hewett might have been waiting to spring on us.
I spend the first part of the day making the rounds. I check on the crew. I give them encouragement. I try not to trip over the many open gold-level boxes now scattered around the ship. I get a lot of questions from excited Cephalopods and Orcas: what is this? How does it work? Most of the time, I don’t have a clue what I’m looking at. I might have Nemo’s DNA, but it did not come with any latent knowledge or a handy user’s manual.
By noon, rain is hammering down. Swells have risen to five feet. It’s nothing we haven’t handled before, but it’s not great for morale. If you’re stuck working belowdecks and can’t get fresh air or see the horizon, even those with the strongest stomachs can get seasick.
I find Nelinha in the engine room. She’s sitting on the corrugated steel floor, her legs in a V with a gold-level crate open in front of her. Today, she has refreshed her Rosie the Riveter look with a red top and red polka-dotted bandanna. She seems completely engrossed in sorting through wires and metal plates. I have a flashback to Dev in sixth grade, building Lego robots.
I turn to Gem, who’s been following me around all morning. ‘Why don’t you get some lunch? I’ll be fine.’
He looks torn between his duty as bodyguard and his discomfort at being around Nelinha. Finally, he nods and lopes off. This is a relief. He’s been standing behind me so long, I’mstarting to think his breath is leaving an impression on my shoulder.
‘How’sthatgoing?’ Nelinha waves her screwdriver at the spot where Gem was standing.
I’m tempted to say that Gem isn’t so bad, but that’s not for me to tell Nelinha, given their history. I just shrug.
‘Hmph.’ Nelinha turns her attention back to the half-disassembled device in her hand.
I think back to that infamous day in September of our chum year. We were brand new, trying to survive the meat grinder of orientation month. Two of our classmates had already dropped out and gone home in tears.
Nelinha was struggling more than most. Her English was excellent, but it was still her second language. She was relieved to sit next to me in the cafeteria because I knew some Portuguese. Then, one night at dinner, Gem’s shadow fell across our table. He stood over us, gawking at Nelinha like she was a unicorn.
‘Are you the scholarship kid?’ he asked. ‘From Brazil?’
There was no malice in his voice, but his words carried. We’d just finished a hard day of physical training. Nobody had much energy left for chatting. Our classmates turned to see who Gem was talking about.
The scholarship kid.
Nelinha’s face hardened. My fingers curled around the handle of my fork. I was tempted to stab Gemini Twain in the thigh. He’d just reduced my new friend’s identity to three words that would cling to her for the rest of the year.
Gem seemed oblivious. He started rambling about his brother who was an LDS missionary in Rocinha. Did Nelinha know him? Had she met any of the missionaries? How was life in the favela?
Eventually I would realize that being a straight shooter wasjust an extension of Gem’s personality. When he saw a target, he aimed and shot. He did not think about collateral damage.
Nelinha put down her utensils. She gave Gem a sour smile. ‘I don’t know your brother. Ana, you finished?’
She stormed off. I gave Gem a withering look, then abandoned my dinner and rushed to follow her out of the cafeteria.
Later in the eighth-grade barracks, after lights out, I heard Nelinha sobbing in her bunk. At first, I assumed it was Ester. But Ester was fast asleep and snoring. Nelinha was curled up and miserable, shivering under her blankets. I crawled in next to her and held her while she wept, until finally she fell asleep.
Nelinha had gone through a lot in her thirteen years. She grew up an orphan – no family, no opportunities, no money. Then, thanks to an elementary-school teacher who saw something special in her, Nelinha was recommended for the HP entry tests in Rio. She blew the tops off all the mechanical-aptitude scores. She deserved to be known as more thanthe scholarship kid.
Since that day in the cafeteria, I’ve stayed angry at Gemini Twain for almost two years. I guess that wasn’t fair or justified. But I don’t like anyone making my friends hurt.
