We’ve given ourselves a week to repair the ship, which isn’t nearly enough time, but we also know that every day we spend here is another day our friends are prisoners of Land Institute.

I wish I could believe the Aronnax had left Lincoln Base alone. I’d feel relieved if I knew they were following the Nautilus, hoping to catch us. But I suspect Lee-Ann was right about Dev taking hostages and waiting to see if we would come back. I just have to hope this old submarine still has some surprises up her torpedo tubes. We have to figure out a way not to cav-drive ourselves right into a trap. Otherwise, all our tech and all that treasure in the hold aren’t going to do us any good.

The day after my birthday, we finish de-gunking the innards of the Nautilus. As near as Nelinha can tell, the cav-drive is back online. The Sharks repair the forward and aft Leyden cannons. They also manage to piece together two working torpedoes by cannibalizing parts from the others on board.

“They would have exploded in the bay if we’d tried to fire them at the Aronnax,” Gem assures me. “So it’s a good thing we didn’t.”

The next day, Halimah and Jack get the skiff operational and take it out for a spin. They manage not to crash or drown. Robbie figures out how to run Jupiter’s Great British Bake Off Blu-rays through the LOCUS display in the galley, so our chef can watch Mary Berry in holographic purple 3-D (which is just as terrifying as it sounds). I discover that Captain Nemo’s keytar can be synched with the bridge’s pipe organ, so I can play music from anywhere in the ship.

“Or even outside the ship,” Ester guesses. “That keytar thing looks waterproof. I bet you could broadcast music while you’re in the deep.”

Nelinha frowns. “Why would she want to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Ester says. “Because it’s cool?”

That afternoon, I spend most of my time on the pipe organ. I don’t plan it that way. I run through one Bach fugue just because the crew is curious. Most of them have never heard me play.

When I finish, I realize everyone on the bridge is staring at me.

“That was beautiful,” Virgil says.

From the overhead speaker, Meadow Newman says, “Engine room. Hey, Ana? Keep doing that. Panels lit up down here that we haven’t been able to get working before.”

So I play another Bach piece. After that I play “Imagine” by John Lennon. A few tunes later, I get wild and play my favorite, Adele’s “Someone Like You.”

The bridge lights brighten. The keyboard seems to warm under my fingers. The notes come more easily, as if the organ is anticipating the tune.

Then the Nautilus joins in. She begins to play her own countermelodies. The song becomes even richer and sadder. I feel the submarine start to dive.

“Whoa,” says Lee-Ann. “Depth now forty meters…fifty. Is it supposed to be doing this?”