The airlock depressurized, allowing water to gurgle down to nothing but a shallow pool. As the submersible held its position, the domed viewport protruded above the water. Dea held her breath while her eyes bored into the chamber's inner door. An excruciating minute crawled by.

The door slid open with a groan that made her jump.

A space akin to a small hangar met her stare. Clutter rose above the clear blue water in a festoon of beams, pipes and scaffolding. The gloom was pervasive, overwhelming the feeble glow of strip lights. Two submersibles, not much bigger than her own, stood tethered by the far wall—cheery baubles that popped out from the dereliction.

Nothing moved. A low drone filled her ears—lapping water and whirring electronics. Dea blew out a breath and held the joystick with a quivering hand. I'm inside the Witch's lair! She eased the Little Angler out of the airlock chamber.

All of a sudden, a dark figure emerged from the water and barred the way.

Dea unleashed a bloodcurdling scream.

The figure leveled a gun, its barrel glinting in the DSV's lights. "Get out of the sub!"

It was a brawny merwoman. Dea jerked back against the seat and goggled at her. A black mask concealed the woman's identity. Scrawled on it was a blue smiley face—though if it was meant to be non-threatening, it failed miserably. A shock of black hair hung down in coils like a goth sea anemone.

"Get. Out. Now." The resonant words made it clear that she wouldn't be repeating the command.

Dea found her voice, which issued in a quavering wail, "I'm not armed! I'm coming out!"

That was when she realized she had more company. Two half-submerged faces surveyed her from behind the merwoman while a drone hovered over a black beam overhead, its camera winking in the murk.

Without testing the formidable gunwoman's patience, Dea fumbled with the seat straps. "Bot, open the top hatch!"

The hatch clicked open, the sound carrying in the stillness. A second later, she hoisted herself off the inundated seat and clambered up the rungs. When she surfaced, many eyeballs trained their focus on her, sizing her up. She crossed her trembling arms and peered down at the masked figures.

"Get down here, you."

Dea started.

A scrawny boy, who appeared no older than sixteen, kept spyhopping on one side of the Angler. His large eyes reflected the teal of the hangar's shallow waters.

"Why did you get out from the top hatch?" he inquired. "Think we'd pounce on ya?"

Yeah, that's exactly what—he's not wearing a mask like the others! Dea just stared at him.

"Damn you, Kelp," the woman growled. "You're gonna get us—"

"Oh, c'mon." He waved a hand in Dea's direction. "Look at her, Muda. She's not a spy."

"How would you know what a spy would look like?" a submerged head burbled. "She's obviously from Calliathron."

A gurgling cackle met the words, issuing from a female throat. Dea's head swiveled in its direction. It was the other submerged merperson behind Muda.

The cackle dwindled to a drawl, "She just swam in—too stupid for a spy. Maybe these privileged gullshits are getting bored up there."

Dea's temper boiled up like a black smoker.

The words, along with the condescending way they were uttered, rubbed her up the wrong way. She thought of the merpeople in her neighborhood, working hard to make ends meet. In fact, it was no different in her own household. Gramma could barely afford school supplies for her until she started working part-time.

"An eel got your tongue, Callian?" the merwoman sneered, raising her masked head above the water. "You've got guts to come down here—I'll give you that. Is this some kind of game you rich f—"

"Shut. Up."

The words lashed out like a whip and reverberated in the space—almost like it wasn't Dea's throat they originated from. Anger superseded her fear and morphed her face into a glare.

The air tensed, and Dea inhaled a shuddering breath. "I don't give a slug's ass about what you think of me, but you don't get to badmouth people I care about. You don't know anything about us, so keep your trap shut."

The background noise swelled—the soft slosh of water and the spin of the drone's rotor blades.

Before the seething merwoman could retaliate, Muda asked, her tone wary, "Who are you, Callian? And what business do you have here?"

Dea raised her head high, emboldened by her outburst. "I'm looking for land gear. And I seek an audience with the Sea Witch."

They exchanged looks.

"How do you know about...the Sea Witch?" Kelp asked sharply.

"I did some digging online, and I managed to get my hands on a top secret government file." Dea paused. "It's a long story."

A snort escaped the merwoman behind Muda. "What makes you think we'd entertain the whims of a random toff who washed up at our airlocks?"

She glared at her. "Because I want to buy your goods—should you have what I'm looking for."

The merwoman let out a derisive laugh. "What a load of whale shit. Muda, let's kick her out."

Before Muda could respond, Dea hopped back into the DSV. She opened the cargo compartment and pulled out a bioplastic bag from her travel sack. This time, she exited from the side—through the main hatch that slid open with a hiss.

Residual anger still crackling inside, Dea tossed the bag in Kelp's direction. "There's more where that came from."

He caught it. Throwing her a cautious look, he proceeded to open it.

Wait, you silly gull! They could just grab this and chuck you out the airlock in a heartbeat. She cleared her throat while her brain churned. "If the goods are satisfactory, I might have future business that would be of interest to you—and of course, it goes without saying that I'm a valuable asset should you wish to contact anyone topside."

Another wave of quiet rolled over those assembled.

Muda turned to Kelp, her gun lowering. "So?"

Kelp finished his quick examination of the bag's contents. "It's legit."

"Well then." The buff merwoman put away her gun. "We can't shoot a potential customer, can we?"

She pulled out a communicator and tapped out a message.

Then she turned to Dea, her menacing air melting away to a business-like nonchalance. "We have to...discuss a few things amongst ourselves. Would you like some refreshment in the meantime?"

Dea stared at the greenish muck in the bowl before her.

"Eat up, princess," a voice drawled.

She glowered at the lanky merwoman lounging at the adjacent table—the one who taunted her in the hangar. She was called Goggly—which suited her, what with the bionic eye that protruded from one socket.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Kelpern Pasi said across the slate grey expanse of the table.

Half-inclined to get the food Hima had packed for her, Dea murmured, "Nah, it's okay. Thanks."

"Just try it."

She braved a spoonful. It turned out to be a watered down version of the herbal porridge Gramma made.

"Careful. Sure your delicate stomach can handle it?" Goggly sniggered.

Dea ignored her and shoveled in another spoonful. She mused at the heavy northern accent that inflected the woman's Mermish, the common tongue used across the ocean. Her native language is definitely nomadic.

"Whatcha looking at, princess?" Goggly snapped with a belligerent glare. "If it was up to me, I'd tow you out to the plains and see how long you'd last in that fancy little sub of yours."

"Gog, how about you go take a breather?" The teen cut in. "I'll keep watch on our...guest."

"Suit yourself." She plopped to her tail and porpoised down the aisle towards the double doors, the splashes sending ripples throughout the still pool.

Hunched over the bowl, Dea watched her leave and turned back to the greenish sludge—a splash of color in the overbearing darkness. "Why's this place so dark?"

"We need to conserve energy," Kelp said in a matter-of-fact tone. "This is largely a self-sustaining habitat. One of the reactors has fallen into disrepair—as well as two living modules. There are many nomads living here too, so we make do."

Dea swallowed the mush in her mouth. "Nomads are living here?"

"Yeah, the seas are not what it used to be. It's tough out there." He sighed. "Many dangers, dwindling resources...I'd have thought you Callians knew about it."

"Mm."

"On second thought, maybe you don't know."

"Huh?"

"They must be censoring the information that's made available to you guys."

Dea frowned and said nothing. Her idle eyes skated over the mess hall, veiled in gloom, except for the dim luminescence of the strip lights. Judging by the little she had seen, the whole place exuded the hangar's brooding ambience.

"So," the boy said, leaning forward, "tell me about yourself. Why are you after the gear?"

"You haven't even told me if you have it."

"I'm not at liberty to divulge information. You need to speak to the boss."

Dea gulped. The Sea Witch! Could it be Muda? Certainly looks the part. She sensed Kelp's green-eyed stare on her.

"Where's your boss?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"In what we call the think room."

"And where's that?"

He just shook his head.

It made sense that he was being careful, and she wondered how to get him to ease up. "I'm not a spy. I'm just an ordinary person."

Kelp regarded her. "Yeah?"

"Yep."

"Not every day a teen girl from the city goes adventuring in the wild by herself."

"Oh, that." She stirred the porridge and scooped up some grain. "I'm not adventuring. I'm...on a mission."

"Twice in a week sounds pretty adventurous to me."

Dea's frown returned with a vengeance as she searched Kelp's impassive face. Wait, what—

He continued, "I'd be careful if I were you. You want to explore an island? Is that why you want the gear? Still, the risks you're taking..."

Before Dea could respond, the doors opened.

Muda dived in. "Hey, Dayla."

"It's Dea."

"Come with me." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Boss agreed to see you."

Holy sea cow! I'm really gonna meet the Sea Witch! Dea hastily wolfed down the last of the porridge. A thrill shot down her spine as she slid off the bench and splashed into the water.

Kelp raised his hand in farewell. "Good luck, Callian."

Dea emitted a few clicks in acknowledgement and hurried towards the exit.

They maneuvered their way through several hallways that brought to mind service tunnels—all bare and utilitarian but for the pipes and beams. The water level was just enough to enable swimming. Then they entered an elevator, which blocked out the nebulous undercurrent of noises that pervaded the place. As they descended, Dea hugged herself and threw a sidelong glance at the intimidating merwoman beside her.

Now that the mask was off, she could see a square face with a scar on one cheek. Biceps strained against her shirt sleeves, just visible above the waterline. Dea averted her eyes and focused on the flickering display. The exiles sure are a motley bunch.

Muda led her down one last corridor, and they entered a cavernous space, which resembled another hangar.

As she followed behind, Dea's eyes immediately went to the figure leaning against an armored DSV. She was a thin merwoman, eyes outlined with heavy kohl. She looked up from her ogi at their approach.

"You're," Dea said, trying to steady her voice, "the Sea Witch..."

"Ah, no, I'm just a mechanic," the merwoman replied, blinking. "Your sub's ready."

She recovered enough to blurt out, "Huh?"

Muda smacked a fist on the submersible's outer panel, and the door creaked open. "Boss is in the think room."

"It's outside?"

"Out in the plains. Not far. It used to be a smaller station connected to this and later used as a warehouse."

Dea tamped down the rising tide of nervousness and scrambled into the craft after Muda.

It didn't help when the instant they emerged into the open, the absolute blackness threatened to smother them. Dea pulled out her ogi and shot out a fusillade of pulses to get a sonic image of what lay ahead.

The abyssal plains stretched out in an uninterrupted expanse. Standing in the distance was a lone building—a merman-made aberration that sprouted from the seafloor. Hemmed in with hills, it appeared to be a minuscule version of the edifice they just left.

"So, this think room is in the middle of nowhere?" Dea asked in a whisper, staring blindly through the viewport. "Why does your boss bother going out there at all?"

"I wouldn't call it nowhere," Muda said, her thick fist gripping the joystick. "After all, it's located by the Witch's Cauldron."

Animal: Giant Tubeworm

https://youtu.be/7j_RfzhddBM