Gem tackles me and jets me out of the way, but the creature isn’t interested in us.

Eight tentacles the size of bridge cables wrap themselves around the Nautilus.

The submarine tilts aft. My helmet’s comm fills with the crew’s screams. As the monster’s head emerges from the dark—I’m not going to lie—the interior of my nice, warm nemonium dive suit gets wet for the first time as I pee myself in terror.

I have been in the water with great white sharks and killer whales. I’ve seen big, dangerous sea animals up close, and I’ve never panicked. But the thing in front of us should not exist. It’s a giant Pacific octopus, or closely related to one, except ten times larger than the biggest specimen I’ve ever heard of. Its full tentacle span must be fifty meters, half the length of the Nautilus. It must weigh close to a ton.

I am paralyzed by the thought of what those powerful arms could do to our ship. At the same time, I am awestruck by the octopus’s beauty.

Its bulbous head makes it look like a supervillain with an overdeveloped brain. Its dark eyes are alert and curious. When it breathes, the siphons on the sides of its face plume to the size of jumbo jet engines. Each tentacle ripples with white-ringed suckers. Its skin is perfectly textured for blending into rocks and coral, though I can’t imagine any coral reef big enough to hide this leviathan. In the dark water, it appears a muddy brown, but where the ship’s searchlights hit it, the octopus’s hue turns a brilliant red. It appears to be mottling, too, as if trying to camouflage itself with the multicolored glow of the Nautilus.

At last, my brain unfreezes. “Nautilus, status!”

“Octopus!” Cooper’s voice crackles through the static. “On the ship!”

If we live through this experience, I will have to rename him Acting Captain Obvious.

Nelinha breaks in. “It’s squeezing us. Hull integrity…I don’t know if—”

“Electricity!” Gem yells. “That story about the giant squid!”

I know the one he means. In 20,000 Leagues, the Nautilus gave a cranky squid some shock therapy to get it off the ship. Something about that account always seemed off to me, but before I can say anything, Cooper gives the order: “Electrify the hull!”

The sub’s grand-opening lights go dark. A moment later, green tendrils of lightning flash through the deep. They dance across the octopus’s skin, illuminating its membranes and backlighting its eyes. I expect the creature to loosen its grip. That had to hurt. Instead, it wraps its arms even tighter around the Nautilus. I can’t see its beak, but I imagine it snapping, looking for purchase on the side of the hull.

“Gah!” Nelinha shouts. “Get off us, you creep!”

“Cooper, try another charge!” Gem says. “More power—!”

“No, wait!” My mental gears start to spin. “Cooper, belay that order!”

Gem’s face is ghostly purple in his gumball-machine helmet. “You have a better idea?”