I’m trembling all over. “Oscar, check for damage.”
The submarine is fine, and all systems are working smoothly again. We move on through the drifting debris. I stare at the body parts around me. My chest aches for the creatures they once were. I check on Jojo; she’s fast asleep, thank goodness.
The sub speeds through the surge the implosion left behind. On and on, drawing closer and closer to Papa. Something drifts into the edge of my vision. I look up.
“Oscar, a drone! And another one! Above and to the right.”
“Already being taken care of, my dear.”
The long, ghostly machines come into view. No viewports, no portholes. They glide effortlessly. One of them suddenly tilts and rushes toward the sub. I step back. The drone erupts into a ball of fire. Oscar takes care of the second one in the same way.
The water is aflame now, a shifting kaleidoscope of fire and metal and debris.
The sub presses through and onward.
I furrow my brow as I look out. The windows . . . They seem to move. I peer closer. The acrylic appears to bend and pucker in places. Unease creeps over me. What is it? Something in the water? But there isn’t anything out there.
“Oscar? I think you need to see this.”
“Highly cunning bots, my lady. Able to blend in anywhere. Inspired by the camouflage skills of certain sea creatures. A most devious foe.”
A bleeping sounds in the room. “Oscar, that’s the oxygen alarm!”
“Yes, my dear, we must act swiftly. They aim to paralyze our systems by accessing and scrambling them. Their first point of attack is often to impair oxygen levels, and it would appear they have already made a start. We cannot terminate them until they are detached from the vessel.”
“Ari, you should check the atmosphere control equipment manually, too, just to be sure,” I say. “I don’t want to risk abandoning this station in case Oscar has another navigating blip.”
Ari rushes out for the engine room.
The water ripples all around us. Seconds later, the windows are clear.
“They’re gone, Oscar!”
“Not quite, my lady. They are in the water now, watching us. They remain hidden, but they are there. As you will see.”
The water seems to shudder. The center pulses, sending waves in all directions. And then there they are, bobbing in the resulting choppy currents. I gasp.
An army of small and transparent mechanical contraptions, each no bigger than a large hand, fills the water. At the heart of each one is a fist-size cluster of technology. The blobs are manic. They rise and dive, and dart to and fro as they watch the sub, desperate to cause some serious damage. The alarm continues.
Laser power flashes from the vessel, attacking the bots. The blobs jerk, twisting around in the waves. Some fall, but not enough. They regroup, making their way toward the sub again.
“Oxygen levels are being affected, my dear. The bots must be destroyed to break the connection they’ve made with the Kabul’s equipment.”
“Take them out, Oscar.” I hold my breath and stand still.
I watch as a spray of shots leaves the vessel and explodes among the bots. The explosion produces a dark, murky substance. On contact it dissolves their jelly-like encasement and penetrates the tech inside. The blobs writhe around. Small prods and wires stick out as the contraptions struggle. One by one, they fall below.
At last, the water is clear again. The alarm goes quiet.
I wrap my arms around myself. “Oscar, check the sub’s oxygen levels.”
“We’re okay,” Ari says as he returns from the engine room and hurries back to the control panel. “The connection wasn’t sustained long enough to cause any lasting damage.”
Phew. The Kabul plows on.
“Oscar, how much farther?”
“Around one league before we arrive at our location, my lady.”
The obstacles are never-ending the closer we get. An oily liquid obscures the viewport when bots disguised as a shoal suddenly turn on us. It takes a while for the Kabul’s windows to self-clean. More drones appear. They release a substance that shrouds the surrounding waters.
“Thermal imaging, and terminate the drones, Oscar!” I shout. “And keep moving on. How far now?”
“Half a league until we approach the prison, my dear lady.”
Half a league. And the closest military base is over fifty leagues away. Even if the prison’s management suspect a breakout attempt now and decide their own security won’t be enough, we should have enough time to go through with the plan and speed away before backup arrives. Half a league and then Ari can descend in the submersible and get Papa out of there.
If all goes well.
Humongous mechanical devices appear out of nowhere. Almost as big as small submersibles, they try to stall the vessel with wave generators. My insides heave. The sub rocks but pulls through the turbulence.
Ari consults the files hovering in the viewport. “We’re over halfway through their defense walls.”
I shake my head as I tap the screen, checking engine, propeller, and firepower status, just to be sure. Will we make it?
“A quarter of a league, my dear,” Oscar announces.
“Good, just keep her moving forward, Oscar.” I pace the viewport.
What’s going on at the prison? Has Bia’s inside person caused the distraction yet? She seemed really confident their guy would come through. During previous breakout attempts, they’ve faked a structural emergency and a technical wipeout; both proved insufficient in causing the required distraction but never came into play anyway. Bia’s people have yet to get past the extensive security.
I suggested a full-blown riot this time. We need for it to be as chaotic inside as possible.
The water ahead looks clear. For now. The craft pushes through the current, which has becoming increasingly choppy. And then the view darkens.
They appear suddenly, looming in the distance. A pod of enormous whales. At the same time, strange jellyfish drop from above the vessel and rise out of the depths. I cry out and narrow my eyes. The dangly creatures remain deadly still. Their bells, tentacles, and muscles all pulse away, their clinical white lights illuminating the water.
Ari rushes to the viewport. “Bots.”
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve come across camouflaged bots my whole life. These things were never alive.”
I grimace. The shadows at the back grow bigger as the “whales” creep closer. The “jellyfish” near and hover in front of us.
I shake my head. So much I was totally unaware of, tucked safely away back in London.
“Erm, Oscar? I think we need to hurry.” I wipe my palms dry as I keep my gaze fixed on the visitors. “They don’t look too friendly.”
The “whales” are huge dark submersibles designed in every way to resemble the real thing. A narrow slit in the tip of the vessels, exactly where a whale’s mouth would be, is all they use for a window. They fire on us, golden-yellow blasts charging straight through the water toward us. The “jellyfish” now draw closer. The Kabul’s own firepower meets theirs head-on and the destructive forces explode as they clash.
Everywhere you look the current flares brilliant and bright, smoke and sparks spiraling in all directions before succumbing to the overpowering waters. The sub shudders.