Chapter 32 · Breach the Surface

“Cut the ballast, or this hull is going to fold!” Cassian shouted.

Lyra’s hand clamped around the emergency wheel. Her knuckles scraped the iron spokes as the wrecked submarine shuddered beneath them. Somewhere below, metal screamed. Not groaned. Screamed.

“Which ballast?” Brant yelled from the engine hatch. “There are six!”

“The one keeping us alive!”

“That narrows it down to none!”

A gauge burst beside Cassian’s head. Hot glass slapped his cheek. He dragged Lyra away from the spray and shoved her against the bulkhead before another valve tore loose.

She hit the wall hard enough to grunt. Her blindfold had slipped crooked, leaving one pale eye exposed beneath the black cloth. She grabbed Cassian by the collar.

“Do that again,” she said, “and I’ll break your nose.”

“Try it after we stop sinking.”

“I can hear the pressure.”

“Then hear this. We’re nine hundred feet down, the forward compartments are flooding, and the whole damn boat is cracked.”

“Eight hundred and sixty.”

Cassian stared at her. “What?”

“You’re counting from the wrong pressure bell.” She shoved him back with one palm. “We’re eight hundred and sixty feet down. The trench wall is under us.