The ships dove through Neptune's Gate—the submerged artificial channel that carved through the reef barrier. The corridor was narrow, barely wide enough for the two vessels to pass single file, its walls crusted with centuries of coral growth and barnacle accumulations. The gate itself was a Seastone-reinforced bulkhead, its mechanisms rusted and frozen in the open position. It had been waiting for eight hundred years, and it would keep waiting.
Jagged teeth of coral scraped against the hull as they passed. The sound was like fingernails on slate, high and grating.
Then they were through.
The facility's maintenance bay opened before them, a cavernous space carved into the atoll's bedrock. The submarines surfaced in sequence, their hulls breaking the still water of an inner dock that stretched nearly two hundred meters across. Above them, massive gantries hung like mechanical skeletons, their rusted limbs frozen mid-reach toward ships that hadn't docked in centuries.
Guidance Automatons—large, crab-like machines with magnetic tractor beams—locked onto both vessels, guiding them toward their berths with a mechanical precision that had never quite forgotten its purpose. The machines moved in jerky, halting motions, their joints grinding with every step, but they moved. After eight hundred years, they moved.
The dock settled around them. Gantry arms extended, clamping onto the submarines with groans of protest. Catwalks lowered, their surfaces pitted with rust, their railings rattling with every movement.
"The AI," Aurélie murmured from the Dreadnought Thalassa bridge. "It's... it's waking up."
She was right. The facility was coming alive.
---
Marya stepped off the submarine and onto the dock, her boots crunching against a layer of salt and sand that had accumulated over centuries. The air hit her like a physical force—thick with the smell of damp tropical ferns, boiling geothermal steam, and something sharp and metallic that could have been ancient machinery or could have been the scent of history itself.
All around her, the facility stirred to life. Lights flickered on in sections, their illumination hesitant at first, then growing steady. Long-dead systems hummed with renewed purpose. Conduits that had been empty for eight centuries pulsed with geothermal energy, their surfaces warming under her feet.
The AI's holographic projectors flickered, sputtered, then engaged.
A small figure materialized in the air above the central gangway—a holographic Tontatta, impossibly small and detailed, wearing a pristine admiral's tricorn hat with gold braid that flickered into static at the edges. Its face was fixed in a manic grin, its eyes wide with an enthusiasm that seemed almost desperate.
"Hello, captains!" The voice was high-pitched, chipper, echoing with a cheerfulness that didn't quite mask the undercurrent of something broken. "Welcome to Selene-Clast! Facility 38-14! We are—"
It froze, its head twitching to one side as if processing something.
Both crews paused in their tracks. Clione asked the question everyone was thinking: "Now what?"
Hakugen muttered under his breath, "There aren't going to be any crazy cyborgs here, are there?"
The AI twitched again, then reset its expression to that same manic grin. "Please provide proper identification and authorization of access."
Uni looked around, baffled. "How are we supposed to do that?"
Bianca shoved past them, her overalls flapping. "Like, chill! I got this!"
"Actually," Galit stepped forward, "this might help." He held up a Key Card—ancient, black, its surface etched with glyphs that predated the World Government by centuries.
He slotted it into a recessed port that had been waiting for exactly this moment.
The facility sang.
---
Every system in the maintenance bay activated at once. Lights blazed from dark corners. Conveyor belts groaned to life, their surfaces covered in dust that hadn't moved in centuries. Automated cranes shuddered, then lifted, their arms reaching toward ships that weren't there. The floor itself vibrated with the pulse of geothermal power, a low, rhythmic thrum that matched nothing so much as a heartbeat.
The AI hologram shimmered, then solidified, its form becoming more detailed, more present. The Tontatta admiral spread its arms wide, confetti exploding from nowhere—hard-light pixels that drifted through the air before winking out of existence.
"IDENTIFICATION ACCEPTED!" the AI chirped. "Welcome to Selene-Clast! The Grand Inspection Day! Everyone is here! Everyone is—"
It glitched, its face freezing mid-smile for a full three seconds before resetting.
"Everyone is having a wonderful, high-efficiency day!" It clapped its hands together, the sound echoing across the bay. "Drydocks are prepped! Repairs are underway! The Fleet is secure! Lines are secured! The Admirals are... the Admirals are..."
The Tontatta's head twitched violently, its cheerful expression flickering into something almost sad for half a heartbeat.
"Welcome," it said again, its voice slightly softer. "Welcome back."
---
Bianca waved frantically, already moving toward the facility's interior. "Like, come on! Ikkaku! Jean Bart! You're, like, gonna wanna see this!"
Ikkaku and Jean Bart exchanged a look, then followed, their footsteps quickening.
Galit walked alongside them, his long neck moving in that constant, restless S-curve. "The systems are old, but they're designed for easy maintenance. Simple engineering. Elegant, really. The coolant loops are—"
"Like, do you ever stop talking?" Bianca cut him off, but she was grinning. "We're here! We're actually here! This is like, the best day of my entire life!"
Aurélie's voice drifted from somewhere behind them, quiet and measured: "The structural integrity of the dock supports is... questionable. I recommend caution."
Penguin and Shachi watched the engineers disappear into the facility's depths.
"Well," Penguin said, "there they go."
Shachi scratched his head. "Great. What are we supposed to do now?"
---
The main group remained on the dock, a loose cluster of individuals watching the facility's slow awakening.
Charlie Leonard Wooley emerged from the Dreadnought Thalassa's hatch, his pith helmet perfectly positioned, his khaki outfit crisp despite the humidity. He adjusted his glasses, taking in the vast space with an expression that could only be described as religious ecstasy.
"Fascinating," he breathed. "Absolutely fascinating."
Jannali let out a long groan. "Here we go!"
Bō-Zak chuckled, blowing out a plume of pipe smoke. He leaned against a support pillar, his tattered shawl draped over one shoulder, his dual sickles gleaming at his hips.
Charlie raced after the engineers, "I believe I may be of some assistance," he said. "There could be historical documents that require... interpretation."
Kaburo Gusaki looked at the empty space where the rest of the crew had been, then pointed with his thumb. "They're gone."
Bō-Zak pulled on his pipe, his eyes gleaming. "I think that's a new record for her. We've been here maybe twenty seconds."
Jannali turned her head, her headscarf rustling, then cursed under her breath. "Bloody hell. We've only been here for a few seconds and the rest of the crew's scurried off already."
Marya shrugged, crossing her arms. "The island's abandoned. They should be fine. We're going to be here for a while." She paused, considering. "I think."
Jannali sighed, adjusting the scarf that covered her third eye. "Right, then."
Marya nodded. "Jannali. Want to take a field trip?"
Jannali's head tilted, the wind catching the edges of her afro. "Whaddya reckon?"
Marya pointed her thumb toward the exit, where the lights still flickered to life in distant sections. "While they're tinkering with repairs, we go to the Island of Heh."
Atlas Acuta pushed away from the wall, his rust-red fur bristling with barely contained energy. "You can count me in on that, boss." He cracked his neck, his eyes already scanning the shadows for potential threats.
"The Island of Heh?" Jannali's lips curled. "Yeah, mate. Better than a poke in the eye with a burnt stick."
Marya nodded. "Bō-Zak?"
The former monk straightened, his pipe still smoking. "I'll tag along. Might find something interesting to... discuss."
Kaburo stepped forward, his voice dry as old bones. "I would like to come as well."
Marya nodded, counting heads. "Good. That's—"
Law appeared from the shadows of Pluton's gangway, his coat swirling around him. "I'm coming too." Marya raised an eyebrow. Law, gesturing toward his crew, who were being barked at by Ikkaku as she assigned tasks to them. "They'll be busy for a while," Law said, answering the unspoken question. "They can handle themselves."
As if on cue, the sound of automation footsteps echoed across the floor—mechanical, rhythmic, purposeful. A patrol of maintenance automatons marched past, their movements precise despite their obvious age, their oxidized bronze trim catching the light.
Galit's voice called out from across the bay: "Marya! We're about to start—"
Marya cut him off with a wave. "We're going to check out the Island of Heh while you work on the ship."
Galit nodded, tossing something through the air—a transponder snail, small and black and functional. Marya caught it one-handed.
"Keep in touch," Galit said.
"Yeah." Marya pocketed the snail. "See you in a bit." She gestured for her group to follow. "Let's move."
Atlas waved over his shoulder as they walked away. "Don't break anything, Noodle Neck!"
Galit opened his mouth to respond, a clever retort clearly forming—
But Bianca appeared at his elbow, her goggles pushed up on her forehead, her expression flushed with barely contained urgency.
"Like, hey! Like, where are they like going?"
Galit's reply was clipped: "The Island of Heh."
Bianca's face fell. "Like, shoot. Like, I needed to tell her that like the Consortium is on the way."
Galit's neck coiled slightly, a sign of tension. "Will that be a problem?"
Bianca shook her head, her hair escaping its bun in fresh waves. "Like, no. They just like want to help and stuff. But like, she may like want to be here and whatever."
Galit turned, already walking toward the facility's command center. "She doesn't appear to want to wait around."
Bianca shrugged, following. "Like, cool. She'll like find out later."
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