Excerpt

The submarine's dive alarm rang out its ear-piercing siren within seconds of the final hatch being shut and sealed. Its repetitive drone made Jacob feel like bailing out, but maybe it had more to do with the fact that it was also the final warning before the ocean became his prison.

"Clear the bridge," Rommond ordered. Jacob had already been ushered outside, and he thought it was a personal slight until he found everyone else, the general included, coming out to join him.

"Nice of ya to keep me company," Jacob said, but Rommond was too preoccupied to take notice.

A flood of officers moved to and fro in the control room below deck, issuing and receiving orders, pulling levers, turning valves, opening vents, and stopping the engines. "Ballast open," one of them reported.

"That a good thing?" Jacob asked. He felt a sudden shift in the submarine. He hoped it wasn't sinking. In a way, it was.

"Dive," Rommond called out.

If there'd been anyone left in Dustdelving to witness the Lifemaker's descent, they would've seen the water swiftly displacing, until the massive silver hull, a thousand feet in length, was nowhere to be seen. There was no one there to watch, however, though in time Rommond was certain that there would be, and his old headquarters would be reduced to flames.

Jacob held on tightly to a nearby rail. He thought that they were diving too fast, much to Rommond's amusement. He reassured Jacob that this was a slow descent, that they could drop much quicker, and that when bullets were flying high, it was wise to duck low. Jacob had no problem with ducking, so long as the ground was still below him.

"So, are we not usin' your cosy bridge then?" Jacob asked.

"It's not pressurised," Rommond replied. "But feel free to go up there if you want."

"Ya know what," Jacob said, "I'll stay down here, if it's all the same."

He noticed Taberah resting against the wall near the helm, where she was shown the controls by what looked like a dark-haired and dark-skinned boy. There wasn't a hint of stubble on him. Jacob thought that maybe Taberah should've been showing the kid the controls instead.

"Who's the lad at the helm?" he asked Rommond. He tried to act casual about it, but he wasn't so confident about having a child in command. He tried not to make it obvious, but he was looking to Rommond for reassurance. More than anything, he would've preferred to see the general there instead.

The nearby crew chuckled and giggled, until Rommond silenced them with a glance. "That," he said sternly, "is the captain of this fine vessel. Nera Alson. And she is a very good captain at that. Married to the machinery—even more than I."

Jacob pouted. He looked back over at the captain, but all he could see was the square jaw, the thick eyebrows, and the tight haircut. Of course, a sailor's uniform didn't help. There was no figure in it.

"She cuts her hair short to abide by the same rules she demands of her male crew," Rommond explained. "It isn't mandatory, and I told her that we've had women in the trenches who don't give themselves a butch cut, but she was adamant about it. She even sleeps on a bunk."

"And you?" Jacob asked.

"I have my own room," Rommond said, "just like you."

Jacob smiled. "Bet it's bigger though."

Rommond stared at him. "It's big enough for your sacred crate of coils."

"Barely."

"Jacob, with the weight of that crate, we could've gotten rid of one of the ballast tanks."

"Happy to help," Jacob said.

"We would've had to jettison it to surface, however."

"Glad you kept the tanks then."

"Don't get too comfortable, Jacob. There's still plenty left to eject."

Jacob got the distinct impression the general wasn't just talking about objects.

* * *

Taberah was a fast learner, but there were a bit too many controls in the submarine for her liking. She could barely rest her back against a panel without hitting a switch or twisting a dial. Still, she preferred to ensure she had even a remote understanding of how things were done. She wasn't exactly comfortable leaving her fate in the hands of others, even if some of them were old friends.

"Do you enjoy this?" Taberah asked.

"Yes," the captain said. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. It seems a little … lonely."

"Sometimes it's just me and the ship."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Taberah wondered.

"No, not really. There's a lot of life beneath the sea."

A moment passed, where Alson only had a conversation with the submarine. She flicked switches and pulled levers, and the ship responded with beeps and flashing lights. Taberah could make out nothing of what it said.

"I never got to see this when I was in the Resistance," Taberah said, fidgeting with her Order insignia. "Not that I'm not now. I mean when—"

"I know what you mean. Rommond likes to keep his cards close to his chest."

Taberah smirked. "He sure does."

"I've been doing test dives for over a year," Alson revealed. "Before that the sub was dry-docked on concrete blocks. Not a drop of water."

"I presume you prefer the water."

"It's why I wanted this job. I live for the sea. I wouldn't have stayed in Rommond's bunkers if it weren't for the promise of seeing the ocean's depths."

"I can't say I share your enthusiasm."

Alson looked up from the controls for a fraction of a second. "This really is the Lifemaker for me. Without it, I might as well be dead. I want to live at sea ... and I want to die at sea."

Taberah knew that where they were going, Alson might just get her wish.