The command deck of the Thalassa had become a chamber of tension and flickering light. The gentle hum of the ship was now a strained, metallic wheeze, each vibration echoing through the hollows of the ancient vessel like a pained sigh. The scent of burnt wiring and cold sea stone hung in the recycled air, a constant reminder of their fragility.
Bianca, her fingers dancing over a console that blinked with angry amber warnings, was the portrait of focused anxiety. A pencil was tangled in her messy bun, and her floral sleeve was smudged with something that looked like engine lubricant. "So, like, life support is at fifty percent and kinda sulking," she announced, her voice tight. "The scrubbers are, like, working overtime just on, like, us breathing. Any extra strain and they're gonna, like, tap out."
Aurélie stood motionless at the central viewport, her silhouette a sharp cutout against the external lights that now played over a wall of mottled purple and blue coral. "Galit. Anything on scans?"
Galit didn't look away from his screen, his long neck tense. "The patrol vessel is right over top of us. Moving at a glacial pace. They may be running a standard sweep, or listening with hydrophones." His emerald eyes flicked up toward the ceiling, as if he could see the iron hull grinding through the water above them.
Charlie, wringing his hands near a bank of silent monitoring crystals, could not contain his academic dread. "Ahem! Is it possible we triggered some sort of submerged perimeter alarm? A pressure-sensitive plate, or an acoustic fence? The technological sophistication, while seemingly crude, could be deceptively—"
"It's, like, possible," Bianca cut in, shooting him a look. "There could be tripwires or whatever. But like…" She shrugged helplessly, gesturing at the dying systems around them.
Galit finished the thought, his voice a low monotone of tactical acceptance. "There is nothing to be done. We are a hole in the water. If we move, we make sound. If we power anything more, we bleed energy signatures. We stay concealed."
Aurélie's jaw tightened. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the deep, irregular thump-thump-thump of the patrol boat's screws passing directly overhead. The sound vibrated through the hull, making dust drift from the archaic conduit housings. "Any update on locating the entrance?" she finally asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Galit waited a beat longer, his eyes glued to the sonar screen as the hostile blob slowly drifted away. "Affirmative. The anomalous coral structure is the only geological feature that doesn't match the surrounding seabed. Density scans suggest a hollow space behind it. A significant one."
The grinding noise from above began to fade. Galit counted down, his finger hovering over a thruster control. "Five. Four. Three. Two. We are clear." He pressed the control.
The Thalassa jolted as its emergency thrusters fired, a sound like a great beast clearing its throat. It limped forward, listing slightly, its glorious hydrodynamic form reduced to a wounded crawl. On the main viewer, the coral wall grew from a strange pattern into an immense, barnacle-crusted barrier. The external lights revealed its surreal beauty: it was a waterfall of frozen, contorted shapes, fans and horns and twisted spines all woven together in a riot of violet, indigo, and sickly yellow. It looked less like a reef and more like the ossified remains of some gargantuan, deep-sea creature.
"Scans confirm," Galit announced. "A cavity, twenty meters behind the thickest point. The coral is acting as a plug."
Aurélie leaned forward, her steel-gray eyes reflecting the lurid colors. "It is blocked." She didn't look away. "Bianca. Life support?"
"Holding at, like, forty-eight percent," Bianca reported, chewing her lip. "But don't, like, get any ideas about going deeper or throwing a party. We're, like, on a knife's edge."
Charlie bustled up to the viewport, his scholarly awe momentarily overriding his fear. "The coralline growth is spectacular! A textbook example of rapid mineralization in a high-nutrient, high-mineral environment! But the central question remains: how does one penetrate such a formidable, historically significant obstacle?"
Ember, who had been standing quietly near the door, stepped closer to the glowing screen. Her mismatched eyes traced the contours of the barrier. In her lucid state, the problem presented itself with cold, simple geometry. "If I could touch it," she said, her voice small but clear, "I could blow a hole in it."
Aurélie's head turned slowly toward her. "Are there any functional weapons on this vessel? Anything that could clear a path?"
Bianca let out a short, humorless laugh. "So, like, sort of. This thing has enough weapon options to, like, turn an island into a parking lot. But we, like, have the power budget of a soggy firecracker, and, like, the firing mechanisms are, like, super crispy. We'd maybe get, like, one shot, and it'd probably be a dud that, like, drains the last of our juice."
Galit, who had been studying Ember with an unnerving intensity, leaned back in his seat. His tactical mind was connecting dots in a way that bypassed conventional engineering. "Ember. Your Devil Fruit ability. The Bang-Bang Fruit. You imbue objects with explosive potential on contact." His sharp eyes cut to her. "Is the effect transferable? If you charge an item, and that item is then launched, does the charge remain?"
Bianca jolted upright as if electrocuted, her goggles magnifying her suddenly blazing eyes. "Whoa. Like, whoa. Galit, you are like a genius! A tactical, neck-y genius!"
Charlie blinked, looking between them. "Ahem! Care to elucidate for those of us not versed in… explosive horticulture?"
Bianca spun to face Aurélie and Charlie, her words tumbling out in an excited rush. "The, like, forward torpedo tubes! They're, like, mechanical! Springs and, like, compressed air! They don't, like, need power to fire, just to, like, open the outer doors! We could, like, roll a torpedo into the tube, Ember, like, touches it and makes it all, like, glowy-boom, we open the doors, fwoosh! It hits the coral, and…" She made a bursting motion with her hands.
All eyes turned to Ember. Aurélie studied her, seeing not the manic Pyre, but the focused, haunted young woman Ibu's touch had revealed. "Ember. Can you do this? Not just the ignition. Can you hold the charge stable on an object, then release it on impact, remotely?"
Ember's head swiveled between their expectant faces and the viewer's image of the vibrant, impossible wall. She could feel the ghost of Josiah's sneer at the edge of her perception, calling the plan stupid. She dug her nails into the old burn scars on her forearm, using the sharp pain to anchor the clear, calm voice inside. She gave a single, firm nod. "Yeah. I can do it."
"Like, cool!" Bianca exclaimed, already moving. "Okay! Torpedo bay is, like, three decks down. Charlie, you can, like,come too, you'll, like, love it, it's all, like, big dangerous things with, like, warnings on them. We'll, like, let you know when we're, like, ready to play hot potato." She grabbed a heavy wrench from a wall bracket and headed for the door, a whirlwind of stained fabric and sudden purpose.
As Bianca and Charlie disappeared, followed by a nervously determined Ember, the command deck felt quieter, the weight of their precarious gamble settling over the remaining two. Aurélie's hand rested on the pommel of Anathema. On the screen, the beautiful, obstructive coral glowed under their lights, a silent gatekeeper to secrets buried for 900 years, about to meet a very modern, and very unstable, key.
-----
The torpedo bay of the Dreadnought Thalassa was a cathedral of silent, dormant violence. The air here was several degrees colder, smelling of ancient lubricant, stale seawater, and the faint, metallic tang of preserved explosives. Racks of sleek, ominous projectiles lined the walls, each one longer than two men and sheathed in a dull grey alloy, and a single light flickered overhead from a fixture.
Ember's eyes were wide, taking in the forest of dormant destruction. In her lucid state, the sheer scale of it was staggering, not exciting. Each torpedo was a promise of absolute obliteration, a fossilized scream from the Void Century.
Bianca marched to a console that looked like a musician's organ made of fossilized coral and brass. She blew dust off a set of buttons, revealing worn glyphs. "Okay, like, let's see if the welcome mat still works," she muttered, pressing a sequence. Somewhere deep in the ship, a series of heavy clunks echoed, followed by the grinding shriek of gears that hadn't moved in centuries. A chain-driven cradle descended from the shadows, hooks clasping one of the central torpedoes with a sound of protesting metal.
"So, like," Bianca asked, watching the cylinder lower with agonizing slowness, "what do you think the, like, delay is?"
Ember blinked. "Delay?"
"Yeah," Bianca said, tapping a finger against her leg impatiently. "From, like, when you use your, like, voodoo touch to when the big boom happens. Is it, like, instant? Is there a, like, fizzle time?"
Ember considered, the ghost of Josiah whispering that she'd mess up the timing. She pushed the voice aside, focusing on the memory of the sensation—the energy seeping from her skin into an object, settling, waiting for the trigger of impact or her will. "Once it's charged… it's stable until it hits something. Hard. So… five minutes from impact? Maybe less."
Bianca nodded. "Like, cool. A five-minute fancy firecracker. Like, we can work with that."
Charlie, meanwhile, was peering at faded placards mounted beside the torpedo racks. He used his sleeve to wipe away grime, squinting at the flowing, alien script. "Ahem! Bianca, are you cognizant of the fact that these projectiles appear to be categorized by payload designations? This one mentions 'Sonochemical Disruption,' and this, 'Thermobaric Cavitation.' The variety is quite sophisticated!"
Bianca glanced over, shrugging. "Didn't, like, really think about it. Boom is boom."
Charlie pushed his glasses up his nose, his academic fervor momentarily overriding the peril. "Would it not be prudent to attempt to cannibalize a secondary charge or a guidance component to ensure maximum efficacy against the barrier? A shaped charge, perhaps, to focus the explosive force?"
"So, like, yeah, maybe," Bianca said, her attention split between him and the slowly descending torpedo, now hanging stagnant between the rack and the open maw of tube thirteen. "But that would, like, need a whole team and a week. 'Team Me' is, like, not enough to research, retrofit, and, like, not blow ourselves all up at once." She gestured at the cavernous, dangerous bay. "We're, like, going with the standard-issue vintage boom-stick."
Ember watched the torpedo, a giant's bullet suspended on chains. "How were you able to… understand the controls?"
Bianca pointed at the console. Beneath each ancient glyph was a simpler, universal symbol: arrows pointing up and down, a circle, a line. "There are, like, arrows. It's, like, the universal language. 'Up,' 'Down,' 'Load,' 'Fire.' Even the ancients needed, like, idiot-proof instructions." She chuckled at her own joke, the sound brittle in the cold air.
She turned to Charlie as the cradle finally aligned with the torpedo tube with a solid, echoing clang. "Okay, Professor. Like, call up to the command deck. Tell them we'll be, like, firing from torpedo tube thirteen. And to, like, maybe brace."
Charlie nodded, scurrying to a wall-mounted communication tube—a simple, copper funnel and speaking reed. He cleared his throat with unnecessary volume. "Ahem! Command deck, this is the ordnance bay. Prepare for activation of primary firing mechanism from tube thirteen. Authorization… uh… us."
After a moment, Galit's voice filtered back, tinny and strained. "Copy. Adjusting ship trajectory to align. Call when loaded and ready for final launch sequence."
Charlie looked over his shoulder. "They are prepared and, one might say, anxiously awaiting our contribution."
Bianca turned to Ember. Her usual manic energy was replaced by a steady, serious focus. "You, like, ready?"
Ember nodded. She approached the torpedo, the cold radiating from its metal skin. She placed a hand on her forearm, pressed until the old scars burned, anchoring herself in the now. This wasn't for chaos. This was for a door. She took a deep breath, the air tasting of rust and salt, then placed her palm flat against the torpedo's nose.
A soft, cherry-red glow began under her hand, spreading through the metal like a fever. Tendrils of crimson light traced the seams and rivets, pulsing with a slow, ominous rhythm. The air crackled with static, raising the hairs on Bianca's arms. Ember held the contact for three full seconds, her face a mask of intense concentration, then stepped back sharply. The entire torpedo now throbbed with a deep, internal light. "Okay," she said, her voice tense. "You better hurry."
"Like, no kidding," Bianca breathed, slamming the final sequence on the console. The cradle released its hooks, and the torpedo slid into the dark tube with a heavy, oiled shunk. A massive, hand-wheeled hatch, operated by Bianca and Charlie heaving together, sealed it in with a final, deafening grind.
"Tube loaded and sealed!" Charlie yelled into the comms, wiping his brow.
"Copy," Galit's voice came back. "Opening outer doors. Firing sequence on your mark."
Bianca looked at Ember, who gave a sharp nod. Bianca grabbed a large, red lever. "Like, fire in the hole!" she yelled, and threw it.
There was a deep, pneumatic WHOOSH-HUMP that shook the entire bay, a sound of immense pressure being released. The ship shuddered.
On the command deck, Aurélie felt the vibration through the deck plates. On the main viewer, they saw the weapon streak away, a red-tinged comet in the dark water, trailing bubbles. It flew straight and true, striking the vibrant heart of the coral barrier.
The explosion underwater was a monster of muted physics. There was no fiery bloom, but a sudden, violent sphere of white light that expanded instantaneously, followed by a crushing shockwave that hit the Thalassa like a giant's hammer. The view screen flared white, then showed a cataclysm of shredded coral, boiling water, and swirling debris. On the surface above, the sea erupted in a geyser of foam, shattered coral, and displaced water that rained down for hundreds of meters.
The command deck lights flickered wildly. Aurélie was thrown against a console, catching herself with a grunt. "That," she snarled, pushing her silver hair from her face, "was not subtle!"
Galit, his hands flying over the controls to stabilize their listing ship, glanced over his shoulder. His voice was dry. "Perhaps no one noticed."
Aurélie shot him a look that could freeze the Calm Belt. "Unlikely." She straightened, her gaze locked on the chaotic screen. "Did it work?"
The water was a churning maelstrom of sand and particulate. Slowly, as the violent bubbles dissipated, the view cleared. Where there had been a solid wall of vivid coral, there was now a jagged, smoking passage. And at its heart, a perfect, round, black opening, like a pupil in a stone eye. A tunnel entrance.
"Scanning," Galit said, his voice tight. "Structural integrity of the surrounding rock is… stable. The cavity is confirmed. All clear."
The door from the torpedo bay hissed open. Bianca, Charlie, and Ember rushed in, their faces etched with adrenaline and soot. Bianca's hair had fully escaped its bun.
Galit didn't turn from his screen. "Path is open."
On the main viewer, the tunnel entrance waited, dark and deep.
Aurélie nodded once, her expression grim. "Get us inside. Now. Before whoever is on this island decides to come and investigate the reason for the unscheduled earthquake." The Thalassa, with a pained groan from its engines, began its slow, limping crawl toward the gaping maw in the rock, leaving a cloud of destruction and a very loud calling card behind it.
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