“Prefects, to the bridge with me,” I say, my legs shaking. “Everyone else, to your assigned stations. We’ve got work to do!”

It’s only seventy-two more hours, I tell myself.

Then we’ll either find help at this secret base…or we’ll most likely die.

Turns out running a ship is hard work.

I guess I should’ve known this. I’ve been on the Varuna enough times before. But I’ve never been in charge of an entire crew, especially not one trying to figure out crates full of Nemo-based alt-tech.

My meeting with the prefects goes well enough. We organize our assignment schedule and daily shifts. One Dolphin and one Shark will be on the bridge at all times as quartermaster and officer of the deck. Orcas and Cephalopods will conduct a careful unpacking and analysis of our gold-level tech. Linzi and Franklin will alternate in the sick bay looking after Dr. Hewett. Everyone will take turns preparing meals, keeping an inventory of supplies, monitoring the critical systems, and cleaning the Varuna. (Ships get dirty quickly with twenty-one people and a dog on board.) Meanwhile, Top will follow Ester around and look cute. Socrates will come and go as he pleases, eating fish and playing in the ocean. Why do the animals get the best jobs?

Once all that’s decided, I set our course. I figure we’ll have to risk traveling in a straight line to the island. We don’t have enough time or supplies to be tricky and zigzag around the ocean, hoping to throw off any pursuers. Hewett’s advanced camouflage and anti-sonar tech had better work.

I leave Virgil Esparza and Dru Cardenas in command for the first watch. Tia Romero stays on the bridge, too. She’s been working on Dr. Hewett’s control pad, trying to get access and route the encrypted data to the onboard computer. I wish her luck, though I’m not sure I can handle any more mind-blowing secrets that Dr. Hewett might have been waiting to spring on us.

I spend the first part of the day making the rounds. I check on the crew. I give them encouragement. I try not to trip over the many open gold-level boxes now scattered around the ship. I get a lot of questions from excited Cephalopods and Orcas: What is this? How does it work? Most of the time, I don’t have a clue what I’m looking at. I might have Nemo’s DNA, but it did not come with any latent knowledge or a handy user’s manual.

By noon, rain is hammering down. Swells have risen to five feet. It’s nothing we haven’t handled before, but it’s not great for morale. If you’re stuck working belowdecks and can’t get fresh air or see the horizon, even those with the strongest stomachs can get seasick.

I find Nelinha in the engine room. She’s sitting on the corrugated steel floor, her legs in a V with a gold-level crate open in front of her. Today, she has refreshed her Rosie the Riveter look with a red top and red polka-dotted bandana. She seems completely engrossed in sorting through wires and metal plates. I have a flashback to Dev in sixth grade, building Lego robots.