The engine room of the Dreadnought Thalassa hummed with a deep, living vibration. It wasn't just machinery; it was the heartbeat of a slumbering Goliath, a rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum that traveled up through the deck plates and into the bones. Bianca Yvonne Clark was deep in that heartbeat, buried up to her waist beneath an access panel that shimmered with circuits like fossilized coral. Grease was her war paint, streaked across one cheek, and a stubborn curl of ink-black hair had escaped her bun, bouncing with every turn of her sonic wrench.
"No, no, no! The tertiary coupling is out of phase by point-zero-three cycles!" The voice was a gravelly baritone, emanating from a shimmering, stocky hologram with arms crossed. Telchines, his form solid and warm like a forge's glow, glowered at a kneeling Karakuri automaton. The ancient maintenance 'bot, a thing of brass and enigmatic clockwork, merely tilted its head with a soft click-whirr. "Don't you 'click-whirr' at me! I designed your ancestors' calibration protocols! Realign the flux manifold before you induce a harmonic cascade!"
In the shadowy corner where conduits formed a makeshift cave, Sanza Kaplan Figarland crouched like a little ginger-haired spider. His heavy Gallagher eyebrows were knitted in concentration far surpassing his eight years. "The variables are thus," he whispered to his sole confidant. "The next dozen will be done in twenty-three minutes. The thermal sensors on the pantry hatch are intermittent due to Bianca's 'like, totally auxiliary power reroute.' The objective: the double-chocolate chunk reserves in the secondary cold-storage unit."
His confidant, Mikasi, currently wore the form of a lean, smoky-grey coyote, his body composed of faintly shimmering light particles. He blinked golden eyes, cocking his head first to the left, then to the right, as if the problem required multidimensional analysis.
"All you have to do," Sanza continued, sketching a crude map in the dust with a finger, "is maintain a perimeter watch while I—"
"We have a distress signal."
The voice, calm, melodic, and clear as a bell, materialized from nowhere. So did its owner. Halia appeared in the center of the engine room with a soft shimmer of displaced light, her elegant, flowing form and ethereal mermaid's tail casting a gentle blue radiance on the pipes and gears. Everyone jumped.
Bianca yelped, sitting up with a violent start. The top of her head connected with the underside of the access panel with a resonant CLANG that echoed through the chamber. "Sweet solar flares!" she cursed, rubbing her skull, her goggles knocked askew. "Like, a little warning, like, next time?"
Sanza tumbled backwards, landing on his tailored parka with a grunt. Mikasi let out a startled, half-yelp, half-musical chime, his form flickering for a second before solidifying again.
A slow, smug grin spread across Sanza's face, followed by a snort of laughter. Mikasi's coyote mouth seemed to curl in a silent, shimmering chuckle.
"Oh, like you two are so smooth," Bianca scowled, clambering out and wiping her hands on her already-stained overalls. "You can, like, totally forget about those cookies. I, like, saw your 'battle plans' in the dust."
Halia's expression, usually one of serene patience, was taut. The luminous ancient script in her eyes swirled rapidly. "There is no time for pastry-related espionage. You are needed at the communications nexus. Immediately."
The levity in the room evaporated, sucked out by the sudden vacuum of her tone. Bianca's playful annoyance vanished, replaced by focused intensity. She nodded, snatching up her wrench. "Like, okay. Is it, like, Marya? They are, like, super late calling in." Hope and worry warred in her voice.
Halia shook her head, the tendrils of her silver-blue hair moving as if in a slow current. "No. It is the scholar, Charlie Wooley."
The name hung in the air for a split second. Charlie. The pedantic polyglot. The other team. The ones who were lost from the other mission.
Bianca's eyes went wide. The heavy wrench slipped from her fingers, hitting the deck with a crash that made the nearest automaton flinch. She didn't stop to retrieve it. She was already moving, bolting for the corridor that led to the command nexus, her boots pounding a frantic rhythm on the ancient metal deck. "Move, move, move!"
Sanza scrambled to his feet, his cookie-heist forgotten, an unfamiliar knot of something that felt suspiciously like concern in his gut. "Big Sis's people?" He sprinted after her, his small legs pumping, red hair flying. Mikasi flowed beside him like a silent, agile shadow.
They burst into the control room, a wide, low-ceilinged space dominated by sweeping, crystalline view-screens that currently showed the dark, pressure-filled nothingness of the deep ocean. The air smelled of ozone, yes, but also of warm ceramic from the consoles and the faint, clean scent of the ship's recycled atmosphere.
A voice, strained and laced with a familiar, throat-clearing panic, crackled from the speakers.
"Ahem! Dreadnought Thalassa, this is… ahem… Charlie Leonard Wooley on secured frequency gamma. Come in, are you out there?"
Bianca lunged for the console, skidding the last few feet and slamming her palm down on the transmit plate. "Charlie! Like, yeah! We hear you loud and clear!" Her words tumbled out in a relieved rush.
The static lessened slightly. "What a relief. Your signal is… ahem… degradation is minimal considering the atmospheric interference and probable geological upheaval."
"Like, what is your status and stuff?" Bianca demanded, leaning over the console. "Where is Aurélie? Where's Ember?"
"I do not have a lot of time," Charlie's voice cut through, sharper now, the pedantry edged with raw fear. "What is your current location?"
"We're, like, just out of visual range of Agashima," Bianca said, her mind racing. "But we already, like, know you're on Kamaten, we're, like, coming and—"
"No! Do not approach!" The interruption was sharp, desperate. "We are prisoners here. Where is Marya?"
Bianca's heart hammered against her ribs. Prisoners. "Like, a lot has happened, Charlie. She had to, like, do something first, then she was, like, coming for you. We're all, like, scattered—"
"Understood. The situation is… suboptimal. However, we have formulated a contingency. You must listen. The offshore smelting rigs to the east of Kamaten's main port… can you target them?"
"The… the big floaty factories? Like, yeah, probably, the Thalassa has some, like, mean-looking torpedo tubes, but why would we—?"
"If you can disable them, then the primary turbine intake for the colony's security grid will be forced to draw water directly from the thermal vents. The subsequent silicate overload should cause a cascading failure in their—"
A wave of harsh, grating static swallowed his words. It wasn't the gentle hiss of distance; it was the violent crackle of interference, of a signal being hunted.
"Charlie! Hey, like, come in! You there?" Bianca jabbed the console button repeatedly, her knuckles white.
For a moment, there was nothing but the angry hiss. Then, his voice returned, faint and hurried, as if he was whispering now. "I have to go. Just… get here as soon as you can. Take out the rigs and the turbines."
The line died. Not with a click, but with a final, definitive wash of empty silence that filled the control room, heavier than the ocean above them.
Bianca stared at the unresponsive console. "Like… what the actual hell." The words were quiet, drained of their usual peppery energy.
Sanza and Mikasi looked up at her from beside the command chair, their earlier mischief completely gone. Sanza's young face was uncharacteristically serious. "What are we going to do?"
Bianca didn't answer immediately. Her head flopped forward, chin nearly touching her chest. The weight of it—Marya missing, her crew captured, Charlie sounding like a man about to walk a plank—settled on her shoulders. Like I'm not a soldier. I'm an engineer. I, like, fix things. But there was nothing here to, like, fix, only things to, like, break."
She slumped into the pilot's seat, the leather creaking. "Like, I am not sure," she admitted, the confession dragged out of her.
Halia hovered closer, her glow casting soft, shifting patterns on Bianca's tired face. "We should run a full tactical assessment. Plot Charlie's last known coordinates, calculate the Thalassa's combat readiness at eighty-seven percent, and consider all engagement variables."
"Like, yeah," Bianca sighed, the sound swallowed by the ship's hum. "But… I am not, like, leaving Marya and the others." Her loyalty was a tangled knot, pulled in two directions.
Sanza climbed into the seat opposite her, his legs too short to reach the floor. He looked absurdly small in the vast command chair, yet his gaze was sharp. "Is there a way to know Big Sis's present location?"
Bianca stared into space, then jolted upright as if electrocuted. "Like, yeah! Duh!" She snapped her fingers, then frantically patted down the many pockets of her overalls. From a pouch near her heart, she drew out a small, folded piece of paper. Unfolding it carefully, she revealed a Vivre Card. But it was weak, the fragment of life-force paper trembling lazily, its direction vague and listless. "It's, like, super vague," she muttered, holding it flat on her palm. "The connection's crap. But, like, at least we know she's, like, alive and stuff. Somewhere."
"Should we not render immediate assistance?" Sanza pressed, his voice losing its theatrical swagger, becoming just a worried kid's.
Bianca pinched the bridge of her nose, leaving a fresh smudge of grease. She was thinking, the gears in her head almost audible. "Like… not yet," she said, the decision painful. "I wanna, like, give her a little more time. She's, like, crazy, but she's, like, capable-crazy. I don't wanna be, like, out of range when she finally calls." She lookd at the Vivre Card, then at the console that had just delivered Charlie's desperate plea. "But…"
"But?" Halia prompted softly.
Bianca's jaw set. Determination flooded back into her eyes, burning away the uncertainty. "But I am putting a, like, drop-dead time on it. If we don't, like, hear a single peep in, like, five hours, we are, like, going to support Charlie's team. Then we are, like, turning right around and going back for Marya and the others." She said it as if she was hammering a verdict into stone.
Halia gave a slow, approving nod. "A sound strategic compromise."
Sanza, however, wasn't satisfied. The worry in his gut hadn't unclenched. "Do you… rationally believe she is in trouble?"
Bianca let out a short, harsh laugh that held no humor. "Well, like, yeah. She didn't even, like, have a plan! She just, like, barged in!" She rolled her eyes, a gesture filled with fond, exasperated terror. "She is deep in trouble. But," she leaned forward, meeting Sanza's anxious gaze, her own softening, "like, don't worry. She can, like, handle herself. It's everyone else who needs to, like, watch out."
Sanza blinked, wanting to believe her.
Bianca reached out and ruffled his hopelessly messy red hair, a surprisingly gentle gesture from her grease-stained hand. "Like, yeah. Don't worry. We, like, still have plenty to do!" She pushed herself out of the chair, energy returning with the prospect of action. She gestured grandly at the main screen, where Halia was already projecting a tactical map of Kamaten Island, the offending smelting rigs highlighted in ominous red. "They, like, want us to blow stuff up! And I, like, have just ordnance in mind."
A tiny, genuine smile touched Sanza's lips. In the corner, Mikasi's coyote form shimmered and reshaped itself—into a perfect, brass trumpet, complete with a bow tie of light. He gave a happy, silent wag.
The dread was still there, a cold pressure in the depths around them and in the silence from their friends. But now, it had a counterpoint: the warm, determined hum of the ancient submarine, and the promise of spectacular, necessary destruction.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving Dracule Marya Zaleska a Power Stone! It helps the novel climb the rankings and get more eyes on our story!
Thank you for sailing with us! 🏴☠️ Your support means so much!
Want to see the Dreadnought Thalassa blueprints? Or unlock the true power of Goddess Achlys?
Join the Dracule Marya Zaleska crew on Patreon to get exclusive concept art, deep-dive lore notes, and access to our private Discord community! You make the New World adventure possible.
Become a Crewmate and Unlock the Lore:
https://patreon.com/An1m3N3rd?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink
Thanks so much for your support and loving this story as much as I do!