With the amount of abuse our suits have taken today, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Even if Halimah got the gist of my message, the Nautilus is in no shape to give us any assistance. We’re on our own.

We burst onto the dock of the lagoon. The sunlight blinds me. I haven’t been outside in the surface world for over a week. There’s too much sky. The horizons are too wide. The colors are too bright.

The rev of a boat’s engines shakes me from my paralysis. The Varuna is pulling away from the dock.

Gem sprints after it. He takes a flying leap and lands on the transom. My jump is not as graceful. I slam into the aft railing, which doesn’t do wonders for my wounded side. Gem grabs my arm to keep me from falling overboard.

“Thanks,” I grumble.

“Take a gun.” He offers me one of his SIG Sauers. I have never seen him let anyone touch one of his precious twins before.

I start to protest. “Gem—”

“Please,” he says. “Just do it for me.”

I take the gun.

The Varuna picks up speed, heading north for the wide new gap that the Aronnax’s weapons blasted in the atoll’s ring. From where we stand, I can’t see anyone else on board. I hope that means the boat is lightly manned. I like small numbers, like one or two.

“Split up?” Gem asks, gesturing to port and starboard.

“That’s always a mistake in the movies,” I say.

“Fair enough.”

Together, we make our way forward along the port gunwale, me leading, Gem guarding my six.

We reach the middeck. Still no one in sight. This feels wrong. The roar of the engines is deafening. I’d forgotten how loud the upper world can be.

I turn…and my question to Gem devolves into a scream when I see a familiar figure looming behind him.

Too late, Gem pivots. My brother smacks him across the head with a ratchet.

Gem collapses. Dev kicks his gun across the deck.

I step back, my heart in my throat. Gem’s second P226 quivers in my hand like a dowsing rod.

My brother glares at me. His hair has its usual cowlick crest along the front, but I don’t find it endearing anymore. It looks like something dark and menacing is trying to push its way out of his skull. Somehow, he must have repaired the skiff well enough to intercept the Varuna. Where the rest of his boarding party went, I have no idea, but Dev by himself is enough of a problem. Water trickles down the black neoprene of his wetsuit. It’s the same one he wore the last morning we dove together—emblazoned with the logo of the HP Shark captain. I tighten my grip on the gun.

Dev sneers, tossing aside his wrench. “You’re really going to shoot me? Go ahead.”