The nearest diver jabs me with his knife.

If I were wearing a regular wetsuit, I’d be dead. As it is, my nemonium weave deflects the point, but it doesn’t spare me completely. The razor-sharp edge rips the fabric and grazes my ribs.

Salt water and open wounds are a painful combination. My left side seizes up. White spots swim in my eyes. Nevertheless, I use my boots to wrestle my attacker, pushing him backward into one of the pier’s pylons. His air tank hits the post with a dull clink. I grab his wrist, stopping his blade an inch from my face.

To my left, the sounds of bubbles and angry grunts tell me Gem is fighting the second diver. I can’t risk a glance to see how he’s doing.

My opponent glares at me through his scuba mask, his eyes full of hate. I imagine he’s heard about the destruction of the Aronnax. He wants revenge.

I’m not going win a contest of strength against him, especially with my left side in agony. My Leyden gun is useless in close quarters, so while my enemy is focused on trying to stab me in the face, I grope for my knife instead. Before the diver realizes what’s happening, I unsheathe my blade and stab him in the BC vest.

I don’t have the strength to wound him seriously, but that’s not my goal. With his vest’s air bladder punctured, my opponent is blinded by bubbles. He starts to sink, instinctively releasing my wrist and flailing for balance. On his way down, I kick him in the face for good measure.

I imagine he’ll be back, but in the meantime, I turn toward Gem.

Despite all his guns, Mr. Twain has gotten himself into a bit of a jam. The second LI diver apparently landed in the water behind him and has managed to wrap one arm around Gem’s neck. He’s now attempting to pop Gem’s helmet to get at the tasty prizes inside. Gem struggles to free himself, firing one of his SIG Sauers next to his attacker’s ear, but even for Gem, it’s not easy to blast someone who’s strangling him from behind.

I squeeze a burst of speed from my boots and zip toward them. Unfortunately, I slam right into the diver’s steel air tank, which hurts me more than it does him.

At least I get his attention. The diver turns to face me.

I have time to register his blue eyes and the dark hair billowing around his face before he disappears as if ripped from the universe. A large silver blur slams into him with such force he seems to teleport sixty feet away in the blink of an eye.

Socrates has entered the chat.

He’s brought friends, too. While he headbutts the blue-eyed diver into submission, three of the local bottlenose dolphins descend on the other guy, who has picked the wrong moment to reappear. It must be terrifying to have three large marine animals jump you all at once. The dolphins welcome him to the neighborhood with an extreme tail-fin smackdown.