Two Days Later….
The darkness pressed in from all sides, thick and suffocating as the waters of the Calm Belt. Marya floated in that endlessness, her body weightless, her thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. She tried to move, tried to speak, but her limbs refused to obey. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, irrevocably wrong.
Then she looked down.
Kogoroshi's blade protruded from her middle, its iridescent white steel streaked with crimson. The blood was hot against her skin, running down her body in rivulets that soaked through her jacket and stained the darkness beneath her. She could feel the cold kiss of the steel, the way it had carved through her flesh like she was nothing, like she meant nothing.
She looked up.
Micah's back was to her, his shoulders rigid, his blood-red waistcoat torn across the shoulder. He was walking away, his boots carrying him toward the other God's Knights, toward the magic circle that would swallow them whole. He didn't look back. He didn't pause. He just kept walking, Kogoroshi still dripping with her blood.
She tried to call out, tried to scream his name, but her voice was gone. The darkness was swallowing her, pulling her down, and all she could do was watch as her brother walked away.
Then the darkness shifted, and she was falling through memories. Flashes of fire and a giant Velociraptor clawing at her, chasing her through the flames. A dark entity with red eyes and a pentagram magic circle. A tall, dark silhouette with a massive sword and red eyes on a rampage. And then—the same silhouette, the same red eyes, carrying her in his arms.
The images blurred together, a kaleidoscope of pain and confusion, and Marya felt herself slipping further into nothingness. She was dying. She was—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The sound cut through the darkness like a razorblade, sharp and insistent. Marya's eyes snapped open, her chest heaving, her hand instinctively flying to her stomach. The wound was gone. The skin was smooth, unbroken. But the memory of the blade remained, a phantom ache that she couldn't quite shake.
She blinked, her vision clearing, and found herself staring at the ceiling of her quarters. The submarine hummed around her, the familiar vibration of the engines a constant presence. The small room was bathed in the soft glow of the monitor on her desk, its screen blinking with an incoming call.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Marya groaned, rolling onto her side. The covers twisted around her legs, and she kicked them off with more force than necessary. Her long raven hair was a tangled mess, strands of it sticking to her face. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, trying to push the remnants of the nightmare from her mind.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"Alright, alright," she muttered, her voice rough with sleep. "I'm coming."
She swung her legs over the side of the bunk, her bare feet meeting the cold metal floor. The chill sent a shiver up her spine, and she grimaced, shuffling toward the desk. Her leather jacket hung from the back of the chair, and she grabbed it, pulling it on over her sleep shirt. The Heart Pirates Insignia was a familiar weight against her chest.
The monitor continued its insistent beeping, and Marya dropped into the chair, pressing the receiver button with a heavy sigh. "Yeah."
Galit's voice crackled through the speaker, sharp and urgent. "Sorry to wake you, but we need to surface."
Marya rested her head on her bent elbow, her eyes heavy-lidded. "Why, what's up?"
"Engine troubles," Galit replied, his voice carrying that tense edge she had come to recognize. "Bianca says she needs time to fix it. Time we don't really have while submerged."
Marya's brow furrowed. "How much time are we talking? And how far out are we from Ushirika?"
There was a pause on the other end, and Marya could picture Galit pinching the bridge of his nose, his long neck coiled in that S-curve he favored when he was stressed. "She isn't sure. Says she needs to get a proper look at it. But we're about a week out by solar sail. Maybe less if the currents cooperate."
Marya straightened, her fatigue momentarily forgotten. "A week?"
"Give or take."
She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "Alright. I'll go check with her. See what we're dealing with."
"Understood," Galit replied, and the monitor went silent.
Marya sat there for a moment, staring at the blank screen. The nightmare still clung to the edges of her consciousness—Micah's blade, his back, the blood soaking through her shirt. She shook her head, forcing the images away. There was no time for that now. There was work to do.
She pushed herself to her feet, grabbed her combat boots from beside the bunk, and pulled them on. Her denim shorts were wrinkled, and her casual shirt was untucked, but she didn't care. She had bigger problems than her appearance.
The corridor outside her quarters was dimly lit, the submarine's emergency lighting casting long shadows across the metal walls. The hum of the engines was louder here, a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated through the floor. Marya walked with purpose, her boots echoing against the deck plates.
She passed a cluster of automata, their brass and copper bodies clicking and whirring as they scurried along the ceiling, their multi-jointed limbs carrying them with surprising speed. One of them paused, its head rotating 180 degrees to stare at her with its single glowing eye. It chirped something in a language she didn't understand, then continued on its way.
Marya ignored it. She had long since grown accustomed to the automata's strange behaviors.
The engine room was at the heart of the submarine, a cavernous space filled with towering consoles and humming machinery. The air was warm and thick with the smell of heated metal and lubricating oil. Pipes crisscrossed the ceiling like the veins of some great beast, and the floor was a maze of grating and conduits.
Marya paused at the entrance, her eyes scanning the chaos. Bianca was waist-deep in an open console, her grease-stained overalls worn open over a floral blouse. Her waist-length black hair had escaped its messy bun, wild tendrils sticking to her face and neck. A pencil was still jammed into the tangled mass, hanging at a precarious angle. Her large magnifying goggles were pushed up on her forehead, reflecting the glow of the machinery around her.
Telchines' holographic form flickered beside her, his stocky, muscular frame radiating frustration. His craggy face was twisted into a scowl, and his orange-gold eyes blazed with irritation. His thick eyebrows were drawn down, and his functional craftsman's attire—a cross between ancient blacksmith's gear and advanced technical wear, shimmered with barely contained anger.
"The gravitational stabilizers are misaligned again," Telchines snapped, his voice a low growl. "If you had calibrated them properly the first time—"
"I did calibrate them properly," Bianca interrupted, her voice muffled by the console. "Like, I did it three times. Three times, Telchines. The problem is, like, not the calibrations. It's the—" She paused, and a string of curses emerged from the console. "—the, like, phase coupler. It's, like, completely shot."
"The phase coupler is not the issue," Telchines shot back. "The issue is that you refuse to listen to my instructions. I have been maintaining these systems for centuries. I know what I am talking about."
"And I, like, have been fixing machines since I was, like, a kid," Bianca retorted, her voice rising. "So maybe, like, chill out and make sure the automata are, like, not reassembling the environmental controls again. I don't, like, don't want to, like, catch another cold because they, like, did something to the compressor."
Telchines threw his hands in the air, his holographic form flickering with agitation. "You never listen! You never—"
He turned, his orange-gold eyes landing on Marya. His scowl deepened, and he muttered something under his breath before stalking away, his form flickering as he passed through a console.
Marya watched him go, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She walked up to the console and leaned against it, crossing her arms. "Hey."
Bianca's head snapped up, and she slammed it against the edge of the console with a loud thunk. "OW!"
She pulled herself out, rubbing her forehead with a greasy hand. Her mismatched eyes—one icy blue, one gold—fixed on Marya, and she winced. "Like, hey."
Marya raised an eyebrow. "Galit said you needed us to surface for repairs."
Bianca nodded, still rubbing her forehead. "Like, yeah. We, like, really need to, like, make a pit stop or whatever like soon. I can't, like, keep band-aiding this thing together."
Marya's brow furrowed. "How bad is it?"
Bianca turned back to the console, her hands disappearing into the machinery. "Like, bad. Like, really, really bad. The phase coupler is, like, toast. The power conduits are, like, barely holding together. And the environmental controls—" She let out a frustrated groan. "—they're, like, doing whatever they want. I keep, like, finding the automata rerouting things, and I don't, like, know why."
Marya considered this, her chin resting on her hand. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Halia mentioned something about a facility. Facility 38-14."
Bianca's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "Wait, really? Like, she told you about that?"
"Galit mentioned it," Marya corrected. "He said Halia brought it up. Something about it being a repair station."
Bianca's face lit up with excitement. "Like, yes! That's, like, exactly what we need! Facility 38-14 is, like, a Century repair station. It's got, like, all the parts and stuff we need. The problem is—" Her expression dimmed. "—we don't, like, know where it is. Halia said something about it being near an island, but she wouldn't, like, give me the coordinates."
Marya's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"
Bianca shrugged, her grease-stained hands gesturing vaguely. "Like, I don't know. She said something about it being, like, protected or whatever. Some kind of, like, security protocol."
Marya pushed off the console, her jaw set. "We'll figure it out. In the meantime, is there an island nearby that might have what you need? Even if it's just enough to get us to the facility?"
Bianca's head whipped around, her eyes wide as if Marya had just suggested something completely insane. She stared at Marya, her mouth hanging open.
Marya read her face, her smirk returning. "I take it that's a no."
Bianca cocked her head, her voice dripping with exasperation. "Like, yeah, no. These systems are, like, way too sophisticated for me to, like, build on my own without a lab or whatever. We, like, need an ancient tech facility so I can, like, work on it and stuff."
Marya nodded slowly. "Alright. We'll plot a course to this facility after we leave Ushirika. But we need to figure out where it is first."
Bianca nodded enthusiastically. "Like, cool. Cool, cool, cool."
She buried herself back into the console, her hands disappearing into the machinery. Marya pushed off the console and started to walk away.
"Hey, Marya?" Bianca's voice called out, and Marya paused, glancing over her shoulder. Bianca peaked out of the console, her expression earnest. "Like, don't change your mind. We, like, really need this. I can't, like, keep patching this thing together."
Marya nodded, waving a dismissive hand. "Yeah, I know. You can only work so many miracles."
She turned and walked out of the engine room, her boots echoing against the metal floor.
Behind her, Bianca's focus returned to the console, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't notice the small automaton that had wandered over until it bumped against her leg.
"Like, really?" Bianca threw her hands out, staring down at the brass and copper creature. It chirped at her, its single glowing eye blinking innocently.
Then she looked up, her voice rising to a shout. "TELCHINES!"
The hologram's form flickered back into view, his craggy face twisted into a scowl. "What? What did I do now?"
"Your—" Bianca gestured wildly at the automaton. "—your little friends are, like, getting into things again!"
Telchines crossed his arms, his orange-gold eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "They are not my friends. They are maintenance units. And if you had kept them properly calibrated—"
"I DID calibrate them!" Bianca shrieked. "I calibrated them, like, three times!"
"Then clearly you calibrated them wrong."
Bianca's face went red. "I DID NOT—"
She stopped, taking a deep breath. Then she pointed at the automaton. "Just—like, make sure they don't touch the environmental controls. I don't want to, like, wake up freezing again."
Telchines grumbled something under his breath, but he flickered toward the automaton, his form materializing beside it. The creature chirped at him, and he muttered something in response, shooing it away.
Bianca sighed, turning back to the console. "I need a vacation."
---
Marya made her way toward the bridge, her mind racing. Facility 38-14. A Void Century repair station. If they could find it, if they could get the parts they needed, they might be able to fix the submarine. But first, they needed to find out where it was.
She stepped onto the bridge, and the hum of the submarine's systems washed over her. Galit stood at the helm, his long neck held in that loose S-curve, his sharp emerald eyes fixed on the holographic display. The tactical slate at his hip was forgotten, his full attention on the task of navigating.
"The solar sail is ready," Galit said without turning. "We can surface as soon as you give the order."
Marya nodded, moving to stand beside him. "Do it."
Galit's fingers flew across the controls, and the submarine shuddered as it began its ascent. The lights flickered, and the hum of the engines grew louder.
"Bianca's going to be a while," Marya said, her voice flat. "She needs parts. Ancient parts."
Galit's eyes narrowed. "Facility 38-14?"
"Yeah. But she doesn't know where it is. Neither does Halia. Something about a security protocol."
Galit's jaw tightened. "Great."
The submarine broke the surface, and sunlight streamed through the viewport. The sea stretched to the horizon in shades of blue and green, the sky a brilliant canvas of white clouds and golden light. A warm breeze drifted through the vents, carrying the scent of salt and distant islands.
Marya stared out at the horizon, her golden eyes—one gold, one half-gold and half-silver—fixed on the distant line where the sea met the sky. Her long raven hair moved in the breeze, and her leather jacket settled against her shoulders.
She turned and walked toward the door, but paused at the threshold. Her voice carried back to him, calm and measured. "Don't stay up too late. You look like you need the rest."
Galit's head snapped toward her, his emerald eyes wide with surprise. "I—"
But Marya was already gone.
---
In the engine room, Bianca was still buried in the console. The automaton had wandered away, and Telchines had been banished to the corner, his holographic form flickering with irritation.
Bianca let out a frustrated groan, her hands flying across the controls. "This is, like, impossible. Like, absolutely impossible. How did they, like, build something this complicated?"
She pulled her head out of the console, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. Her grease-stained overalls were streaked with dust and oil, and her pencil had fallen from her hair at some point. She didn't bother to retrieve it.
Telchines flickered back into view, his arms crossed, his scowl firmly in place. "If you would just listen to my instructions—"
"I, like, heard your instructions," Bianca interrupted. "They were, like, not helpful."
"Not helpful? I have been maintaining these systems for centuries!"
"And I have, like, been fixing machines my whole life. So maybe, like, meet me halfway?"
Telchines opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the engine let out a low groan. The lights flickered, and a shower of sparks erupted from a nearby conduit.
Bianca's eyes went wide. "LIKE, WHAT WAS THAT?"
Telchines' form flickered as he moved toward the conduit, his hands materializing tools as he worked. "The power couplings are overloading. We need to reroute the flow before—"
"Before what?"
"Before we lose power entirely!"
Bianca scrambled toward the console, her hands flying across the controls. "Alright, alright, I'm, like, working on it! Just—just give me a second!"
The submarine shuddered, and the lights flickered again. Bianca's hands moved faster, her face a mask of concentration.
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