I blink. This is the first time anyone has called me captain. I’m not sure how I feel about that. “All hands for general quarters. Nelinha?”

“Yes, babycakes?”

That gets some laughter. I silently thank Nelinha for having an insubordinate sense of humor. It’s been a long time since any of us had a good laugh. Besides, babycakes doesn’t sound any more ridiculous to me than captain.

“Send the message,” I tell her. “If anyone needs to use the head, now would be a good time.”

The crew disperses. All things considered, their spirits seem high. I hope I haven’t led them astray.

I hit the bathroom. I change maxi-pads, take Midol, and throw up. Today is a great day.

I get back to the bridge just as Nelinha sends the message.

Ester and Top have joined us for the big moment.

Gem fidgets like he’s got a jellyfish in his shirt. Like Ester, he’s one of those people who thinks on time means thirty minutes early. It must be killing him that we’re cutting things so close to the deadline.

We wait for a response.

I remind myself to breathe.

I imagine ballistic missiles hurtling over the horizon, zeroing in on our position. I remember the trident-shaped wake lines of the torpedoes that destroyed our school. I picture a full complement of alt-tech sonic fish burrowing through the water toward our hull.

Nothing happens.

Then, suddenly…still nothing happens.

Five more minutes pass. More nothing.

The minutes turn into an hour. Funny how that happens when you put sixty of them together.

The afternoon sun slants through the forward windows. This turns the bridge into an Easy-Bake Oven. Sweat trickles down my neck. Ester’s face is the color of a boiled crab. Even Nelinha’s perfect makeup is starting to melt. Top finishes his second bowl of water and continues panting like crazy. (I don’t think he understands water rationing.)

Outside, Dru and Kiya man the Leyden cannon. They look miserable in their life vests and tactical gear.

The sea ahead remains flat and empty, except for Socrates, who leads the way like a pilot fish. Occasionally he leaps out of the water, turning as he breaches. He looks back at us with his sideways smile. I imagine him thinking, Come on, guys! If you get blown up or whatever, it’s fine! I’ll be safe!

“We’re still alive,” Ester notes. “That’s good. Maybe we passed the test.”

I hope she’s right. I was sort of hoping for confirmation, though. A giant glowing smiley face on the LOCUS display would’ve been sufficient. Or confetti. The silence is unnerving.

The sun is just touching the horizon when I order engines to a full stop.

The weather is clear. If there was an island anywhere close to us, we should be able to see it. This was supposed to be our destination. There’s nothing here.