Radioactive - Part 2

Esther raised her hand to her forehead, unsurprised to feel the warmth of something wet where the dull, pulsing pain in her head radiated.

Of course, the day her father finally allowed her to join humanity's first exploration of the Sunless World was easily the happiest day of her life.

Well, at the very least, it ranked comfortably in the top three happiest days she could remember.

But the day after—that is, today—easily earned a spot in her top three worst days.

Why? Because Esther had been confined to her quarters without any explanation or clear instructions.

It was her first time aboard a submarine, and instead of exploring this new, fascinating domain, she was stuck in her cabin.

How infuriating.

As her irritation grew, the throbbing pain from the wound on her head seemed to intensify in response.

But who could she blame?

Esther lay back on the narrow bed that was just barely large enough to accommodate her. Above her, the ceiling—really, the underside of the upper bunk—was so low she couldn't even sit up straight.

The submarine's designers clearly hadn't included "comfort" in their blueprints.

She thought this as she reached over to the bedside compartment, pressing the latch to retrieve her notebook and pen. Ignoring the throbbing pain at her temple, she stretched her arm upward to use the underside of the top bunk as an impromptu writing surface.

With the notebook balanced awkwardly above her, she began to read through the latest report she had written.

 The USS Washington is a Los Angeles-class submarine (according to the old classification system). Don't get too caught up in the name—it simply means this submarine has four levels.

Level 0, or the deck, includes the surface access chamber, the decommissioning room, and the small craft dock (for deploying smaller vessels). It also houses the pressurized airlock for divers.

Level 1 contains the main control room, radio room, and long-range torpedo bay. This floor is essentially the nerve center of the submarine, where all operations and commands are executed.

Level 2 is dedicated to the engine room, the reactor, and the engineers' quarters.

Level 3 comprises the crew quarters, the armory, and the bays for short-range torpedoes and mines.

All levels are connected by a central ladder, which stretches from the surface access chamber on Level 1 down to the main corridor outside the crew quarters on Level 3.

If anything goes wrong, that ladder is the only escape route.

Esther nodded to herself, satisfied. It was a good summary. Now, she just needed to find a way to map out the entire submarine.

If she couldn't explore it herself, she'd sketch the layout from memory.

She began drawing a 2D schematic of the submarine in side-way view.

"Let's start with… walking up the gangway to the hatch."

Her pencil moved, sketching a circular door with a wheel in the center.

"After climbing down the ladder through the hatch… the area around me is the storage for small crafts and diving gear." Esther sketched the outline of a small boat and an oxygen tank.

"Then it's down another ladder… right outside the control room, right?" Her hand moved swiftly, drawing a doorway with a small sign that read Control Room beside it.

At that thought, Esther let out a sigh.

Back then…

…

As she was walking toward the next ladder to descend to the third level, a deafening shout erupted from the door ahead.

"What did you say?! A spy?!" She recognized the voice as Commander Hector's, and he sounded absolutely furious.

"Are you trying to announce it loudly enough for the spy to hear?" Holland's calm, unbothered tone followed.

A spy? Esther released her grip on the ladder and turned to face the closed control room door.

"How is that even possible?" Hector's voice dropped slightly—only slightly.

"The Pentagon sent a message," Holland said. "They reported that a dockworker found a corpse stuffed under one of the buffet tables from the launch party—still uncleared from the event."

"Who was it?"

"We don't know. The killer used an accelerant to burn the victim's face, making photo identification impossible."

That's clever.

Am I twisted for admiring that psychopath's ingenuity?

But it was an effective strategy. Now, there was no way of knowing which role the infiltrator might be playing aboard this submarine, with the previous occupant of that role now reduced to ashes.

As Esther strained to focus and eavesdrop on the conversation inside the control room, she suddenly heard a voice—right by her ear.

"That's scary, huh?"

The voice wasn't loud, but it was close enough to make her jump. Her startled reaction triggered a sharp contraction of her muscles, sending her right foot into an instinctive kick—unfortunately, straight into thin air over the ladder.

Her head collided hard with the iron rungs, sending her stumbling backward.

As she fell, she couldn't help but think, Why does everything terrible happen to me?

"Sorry, sorry! Haha! You're so jumpy!" The stranger grabbed Esther's wrist just in time, preventing the rest of her body from colliding with the submarine's space-efficient—and painfully unforgiving—design. With a steady pull, the stranger helped her regain her balance.

Esther turned to glare at the interrupter but froze as soon as she took in the figure standing before her.

The woman looked to be in her early twenties, dressed in the orange uniform of the engineering corps. The color complemented her fiery red hair perfectly.

But…

The uniform hung on her frame like an oversized shirt, loose enough that Esther could glimpse pale shoulders and the curve of her collarbone.

It wasn't the fault of the uniform; it was because she was too thin (and likely because the uniforms weren't tailored for women in the first place).

Even so, Esther couldn't miss the muscles.

Her neck had subtle ridges of muscle—signs of someone who had done heavy lifting or weight training.

The same was true of her arms, where the defined lines of tendons and joints were visible.

A job that required carrying things, but not excessively heavy loads?

"Who are you?" Esther finally asked.

The red-haired woman seemed to be sizing her up too. She gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders when Esther spoke.

"O-oh! I'm Anna. Nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand.

Esther reached out to shake it, noting the calluses on Anna's fingertips and knuckles, though the rest of her hand was smooth and soft.

"Rubbing my hand like that tickles, you know," Anna protested with a hint of annoyance.

Esther let go of her hand, silently speculating. Was she a dockworker or something similar?

"Does your culture teach you to shake hands by rubbing them like that? Lucky for you, you're a girl," the red-haired woman—Anna—grumbled while scratching the hand Esther had just examined.

But Esther froze at her choice of words.

Culture?

Why phrase it like she's from another country…?

"Why did you use the word—"

"You haven't even told me your name yet," Anna interrupted, cutting her off mid-question.

Now that she thought about it, it wouldn't be strange if Anna was from another country. Even Holland didn't seem like a native of the U.S., so it wasn't far-fetched to assume that the crew might have been assembled from across the globe. Realizing this, Esther felt her suspicions were a bit excessive.

"I'm Esther," she finally said.

Anna tilted her head slightly, studying her. "Didn't know there'd be a kid on board."

Esther frowned. Ever since she'd climbed aboard through the hatch, she'd felt the eyes of every crew member following her every move.

What's wrong with being young? she thought irritably. "Well, now you know."

Anna continued to scrutinize her with a curious gaze. "So, what's your position?"

Now it was Esther's turn to frown in confusion. Position?

"Oh, I mean, what's your role on the submarine? Generally, every ship divides responsibilities into departments—like the engineering department, navigation, torpedo systems. The crew works under the orders of their respective department heads," Anna explained, ticking off the categories on her fingers.

Hmm… Dad was referred to as a specialist/researcher assigned to the ship. So, does that make me an assistant researcher?

But what exactly does that role entail on a submarine?

Instead of answering, Esther decided to turn the question back on Anna. "And you? What's your position?"

"I'm with the communications unit—basically a radio operator," Anna replied with a smile, gesturing over her shoulder. Esther followed the motion to see a large radio transmitter installed near the wall just behind the ladder she had climbed down earlier.

"Wow!" Esther had never seen a radio that massive or sophisticated. The radio at her father's museum was barely the size of a school desk, made of wood, and had broken down after a single use when they tried broadcasting music. But the machine in front of her looked like something straight out of a sci-fi novel.

Anna crossed her arms, beaming with pride as though showing off her favorite toy. "You have to admit, this ship is incredible. Hard to believe the U.S. managed to build a submarine like this."

Indeed, it was hard to believe.

At the launch party before the expedition—the day the Sunless World Exploration Project was unveiled—the U.S. president had announced this submarine as the first ever constructed in the Sunless World.

Synthetic torpedoes or handcrafted mines—those were plausible. But an entire submarine? And not just the hull—consider the equipment inside: the radios, the control systems, the periscopes.

Could it really be possible for a nation that still implemented wood conservation policies to suddenly produce something of this scale?

"There's no way the U.S. built this submarine themselves," Esther said, voicing the thought that had been swirling in her mind.

Anna's expression shifted into surprise. "Why would you say that?"

Esther stepped closer to the sleek radio console. She carefully reached out to touch the control panel, mindful not to press any buttons. The metal was cold beneath her fingertips, its surface polished to perfection.

"Think about it," she began. "The only nation capable of manufacturing circuit boards on this scale is the Republic of Revachol. Their primary exports are radios and clocks, and even they haven't managed to produce machinery larger than a workbench—except for the automated belts in their factories. So how could a country like the U.S., whose main exports are oil and steel, suddenly build an entire submarine?" She tapped the side of the massive radio with the back of her hand, eliciting a hollow, resonant thud.

There was no empty space inside—it was packed with intricate circuits.

"You're saying…"

"Every single radio sold in D.C.'s markets is imported from Revachol. If they could produce something like this themselves, why would they need imports? It just doesn't add up."

Every nation, every culture, has its own trajectory of technological advancement. But that progress always follows a certain sequence: the discovery of copper leads to wiring, which leads to circuits, which eventually leads to radios.

There's no skipping steps—no jumping from discovering iron ore straight to building submarines.

"So, what's your theory?"

Esther turned back to Anna, noticing how earnestly the red-haired woman awaited her answer.

Despite her initial surprise at seeing a child aboard the submarine, Anna now spoke to Esther as if they were peers. Her questions carried genuine curiosity, a stark contrast to how most adults had treated Esther.

Two women of vastly different ages, who'd only just met, were now dissecting this enigma as though they'd been partners in intellectual pursuits for years.

Esther concluded that Anna shared her passion for unraveling mysteries.

And because of that, Esther decided—she liked the red-haired woman.

"I think this submarine came from the Old World… Not a U.S. design, but a vessel they salvaged instead." She didn't know exactly where it had originated, but Esther was certain it was a relic of the Old World.

Anna furrowed her brow, her face deep in thought. "Could it be a Soviet submarine?"

"Sorry, I've never been aboard a Soviet sub, so I wouldn't know the difference," Esther admitted. While she was obsessed with submarines, in a world where most knowledge was passed down through oral tradition, she might know the names of nearly every submarine in the Sunless World—but had little to no idea what any of them actually looked like, let alone their internal layouts.

In truth, this was the first submarine Esther had ever been on.

But admitting that would only make her seem inexperienced, so she kept the thought to herself.

Wait—

The conversation she'd overheard in the control room. A spy who had infiltrated the submarine. A vessel potentially captured from the Soviets.

"But if this submarine was really seized from the Soviets... Could that be why the spy—" Esther began to voice the thought forming in her mind.

"You heard about it, didn't you?" The dry, indifferent voice that cut her off nearly made Esther jump for the second time that day.

"C-Captain!" Anna, startled herself, hastily raised her hand in a rushed salute.

Esther turned to face the man who had invited her on this unprecedented journey.

And she realized that, even now, Holland's gaze still unnerved her.

"Uh… I—" Confronted by those hollow, emotionless gray eyes, Esther couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for eavesdropping—and fear, too.

As she hesitated between offering an excuse or an apology, Holland turned to Anna instead.

"Contact the Pentagon. Tell them we'll handle the spy ourselves and that we'll report back once we reach the border station."

"U-Understood, sir!" Anna replied with a stutter, snapping another salute before darting past Esther toward the ship's radio. Her hands moved swiftly, pressing buttons and flipping switches on the control panel.

"And you…" Esther swallowed hard as Holland turned his attention back to her.

"I want you to head to your quarters and stay there for now."

"What?" Despite her lingering fear of Holland, Esther felt a surge of indignation at what seemed like a punishment.

"It's for your own safety. You heard it yourself—there's a spy on this ship." Holland extended his hand, revealing a small key resting in his palm.

"Third door on the right, facing away from the ladder." As Esther accepted the key, Holland turned and made his way back toward the control room.

Esther was just about to protest, but it seemed Holland had anticipated that.

"When you're on this ship, you follow my orders," Holland said without even turning back.

"Don't even think about disobeying me."

And with that, the control room door shut, leaving Esther alone with the soft hum of the radio equipment.

Holland's sharp tone forced her to swallow the words she'd been ready to shout after him.

That was when she felt it—something warm trickling down her forehead to her cheek.

It was only then that she realized the metal ladder had left quite the mark on her forehead.

…

Esther was snapped back to the present by a commotion outside her door.

What's going on?

As if to answer her thoughts, a booming announcement came through the speaker mounted in her room—one she assumed was identical to those in every other cabin, all connected to the control room.

"Washington preparing to dive in 10 seconds. Depth: 100 meters," came Anna's familiar voice.

Snapping her journal shut, Esther hurriedly stuffed both the notebook and her pen into the storage compartment.

She knew a little about diving procedures: first came the announcement of the dive's timing and intended depth. This gave the crew enough time to calculate the ship's angle and brace themselves for the incline.

Anna repeated the announcement twice more, just as Esther gripped the safety rail on the edge of her bed and another above her head. She felt the bed tilt forward as the ship's bow dipped, her feet sliding to touch the wall at the foot of the bed.

It wasn't the bed that was tilting—it was the submarine, plunging into the depths.

Goodbye, my homeland.

Hello, abyss.

Esther let go of the rail with one hand to touch the wound on her forehead and found that the bleeding had stopped.

Finally, the incline lessened, and the bed leveled out as the submarine stabilized its course.

Esther noticed the deep hum around her change in pitch. She felt a pressure building in her ears, accompanied by a dizzying wave of nausea.

Fragments from her father's medical books flashed through her mind: "Sudden changes in a submarine's depth can cause rapid shifts in internal air pressure, leading to symptoms such as ear barotrauma, dizziness, and headaches."

She remembered the book mentioning a remedy called "clearing the ears."

How did it go again?

The dizziness made her restless. Slowly, she gripped the rail at the edge of her bed and pushed herself up, taking care to avoid hitting her head on the bunk above.

Her ears were still ringing, but the throbbing pain in her head began to fade.

It seemed standing upright had helped alleviate the worst of it. Now, if only she could deal with this maddening ear pressure.

A gentle knock came at her door—three soft taps.

"Come in, Dad. I didn't lock the door." The truth was, she was reluctant to move, fearing the headache might return if she tried to walk.

The door creaked open.

The person standing there was not who she expected.

Esther's eyes widened in surprise. The boy from the fish market? That was her first thought. Then came the next: How on earth is he here?

The boy she'd seen yesterday on the darkened docks had been filthy, his skin and clothes covered in dust and grime. She'd assumed he was just another slum kid, loitering by the benches in a drunken haze.

Now, the boy looked as though he'd scrubbed himself clean, likely adhering to the sailors' custom of bathing before a voyage. His face was expressionless, void of emotion. Jet-black hair fell to cover his right eye, leaving only his left visible. Esther noted its striking hue—unlike anything she'd ever seen. At first glance, it seemed black or a deep navy, but under closer inspection, it was a shade of purple so dark it bordered on black. She estimated he was about her age, perhaps a bit older.

The boy wore a black cloak that covered him from neck to waist. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of the garment. His lower half was clad in worn, faded black jeans that extended to his ankles, their fabric frayed with time and use. Esther couldn't gauge his physique beneath the clothing, but there didn't seem to be much to assess. He was about her height, lean to the point of frailty, and by male standards, he might even be considered malnourished.

"I thought I was supposed to be the only kid on this submarine," she said, her voice sharp as she assessed him. No way he was older than eighteen. "Where's my father?"

The boy's gaze dropped, avoiding hers as he spoke.

"Your father is safe in the control room," he replied, his tone steady. "He's currently learning the operational procedures for the submarine."

For heaven's sake, Dad! she fumed inwardly. Abandoning me again? Really?

Anger boiled within Esther—anger at being left behind, jealousy over her father's opportunity to study the submarine, frustration at being confined to her quarters. Each emotion piled atop the others until her headache throbbed anew, each pulse a hammer against her temples.

They stood there, two figures frozen in the tiny room. She glared him down from head to toe, while he kept his gaze fixed on the floor. The silence stretched between them, oppressive and heavy, broken only by the distant creaks of metal and the faint echoes of footsteps reverberating through the corridor.

His stoic silence, paired with his blank expression, only fanned the flames of her frustration.

Is this guy seriously just going to stand there, hands in his pockets, staring at my floor like this? she thought.

Everyone was infuriating today. Everyone.

She cleared her throat, breaking the oppressive silence, and snapped out a question, her voice clipped. "Who are you?"

The boy didn't lift his head. "Rain," he murmured softly.

Silence fell again.

 What is wrong with this guy?

"Whatever it is you need, Rain, just say it and leave," she snapped, crossing her arms. "I'm not in the mood for company right now."

 Her mind added a begrudging thought: You may have been a good distraction when I was down last night, but right now? I need space.

But Rain didn't move. He remained in place, hands in his pockets, staring at the ground as though lost in thought—or entirely indifferent.

Her patience snapped.

 "What is wrong with you?!" she shouted, her voice sharp. "What do you want from me!?"

Rain flinched at her outburst, and that tiny reaction brought her both a flicker of satisfaction and a pang of guilt.

To hell with guilt, Esther thought. It's your bad luck for running into me on one of my worst days.

As she fumed, the boy finally muttered something so softly she barely caught it.

 "What was that?" she snapped, the urge to grab him by the collar rising. "Speak up, will you?"

Rain slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. Then, without a word, he pulled his right hand out of his pocket. In his hand was a small, smooth white cylinder. As he moved, the faint sound of something shifting inside became audible.

 "Painkillers," he said a little louder this time, then lowered his gaze back to the floor.

So much for guilt. Esther's irritation faded into an awkward shame as she reached for the container.

 "Thanks," she muttered, her tone now nearly as quiet as his.

Even after handing her the painkillers, Rain didn't move. He just stood there, still as a statue.

 "What now?" Esther sighed, her voice tinged with exasperation.

This time, he raised his left hand. Clutched within it were a wad of cotton, a roll of bandages, and a small glass bottle.

 "Holland said you were injured…" Rain murmured, his gaze darting to the cut on her forehead.

Esther's irritation evaporated, replaced by a pang of guilt.

 Holland wasn't punishing me, she reminded herself. He was protecting me—at least until they figure out who the spy is.

 And as much as Holland might act distant, this showed he cared in his own way.

She reached out to take the medical supplies, only to notice Rain hesitating as though trying to find the courage to say something.

 "Well?" she prompted, softening her tone in spite of her lingering annoyance.

"Do you… need help?" he asked quietly.

Esther thought she could handle it herself, but the guilt gnawing at her for being rude to someone who only meant well made her hesitant to refuse outright. Instead, she nodded slightly.

 "Please do."

Rain pressed his free hand against the wall by the door. The panel sank inward, revealing a collapsible seat attached to the wall. Next, he pulled a hidden latch nearby. A metallic plate slid outward with a soft hiss, forming a small foldable desk. Rain locked it into place with a sharp click before setting the medical supplies on the surface.

 What an efficient use of space. For once, Esther found herself genuinely impressed with the submarine's design, her usual sarcasm nowhere in sight, as she carefully lowered herself onto the built-in seat.

Rain picked up a cotton ball and soaked it with liquid from the small glass bottle. Then, with deliberate care, he pressed the damp cotton to the cut on her forehead.

 The cold sting of the antiseptic was uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as the suffocating silence between them. Esther, still battling waves of guilt, found it almost unbearable.

 "Why didn't you just say something earlier? Why stand there in silence?" she blurted, grasping for a way to justify her earlier irritation.

"I've… never spoken to a girl before," Rain replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he fixed the cotton ball in place with tape.

"What?" Esther frowned. "But you were talking to me just fine last night!"

 "That wasn't… normal," he said flatly, his expression unchanged.

Esther's brow furrowed deeper. What does that even mean? Did he leave his conversational skills on that bench by the fish shop or something? Seeing that Rain wasn't inclined to elaborate, she decided to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"Do you know Holland?"

 "…Yes."

"How long have you known him?"

 "A long time."

"Are you travelers or something?"

 "I just travel with Holland… nothing more."

"Who is Holland, really?"

 Rain said nothing, his hands steady as he replaced the cotton on her forehead.

Deciding not to press further, Esther switched topics again.

 "I thought kids weren't allowed on submarines until they're twenty. What's your role here? Are you a doctor?"

 "I just do whatever Holland tells me to do…"

A personal servant, maybe? Esther thought sarcastically.

 Rain pulled back, inspecting his handiwork on her bandaged forehead.

 "Thanks," she said, her tone softening. "And… I'm sorry. I know it's no excuse, but I wasn't in the best mood earlier. Yesterday, you gave me great advice, and today you even brought me medicine…" She hesitated, adding quietly, "You must have guessed I'd get seasick on my first time aboard a submarine."

 She managed a small, awkward smile. "We're probably around the same age, so you don't have to be so formal with me."

Rain glanced downward, murmuring something too soft to hear.

 "What?" Esther asked, tilting her head.

 "…Your name."

 "What?"

 "Can you… tell me your name?" he asked hesitantly.

 It struck Esther then—through all their conversations, from the dock last night to now, she'd never once introduced herself.

Since her mood was finally improving, and considering that this boy was likely someone she'd have to coexist with for the next several months, getting to know him didn't seem like a bad idea.

 "My name is Esther," she said, forcing the most approachable smile she could muster, only to wince as the motion pulled at the muscles near her forehead wound, intensifying both the sting of the injury and her lingering seasickness.

At that moment, the boy finally met her gaze. Then he did something so bizarre and out of place that Esther couldn't have imagined it in her wildest dreams.

 Rain raised one hand to pinch his nose, puffed his cheeks, and exhaled dramatically as if to demonstrate some kind of breathing exercise.

What was that supposed to be?

 Seeing her bewildered expression, Rain repeated the motion.

 He must want me to do it, Esther thought.

 With a raised eyebrow, she mimicked him, pinching her nose shut and feeling, for a moment, that her day couldn't possibly get any stranger.

When she exhaled through her closed nose, a distinct pop echoed in her ears.

 And just like that, the muffled ringing vanished.

 For the first time in what felt like forever, she could hear clearly again. Esther stared at Rain, wide-eyed with amazement.

The boy gave her a small nod before turning around and slipping out of the room as silently as he had entered.

Blocking the airflow to create pressure in the ear canals.

 Esther made a mental note to include the ear-clearing technique in her journal entry for the day before going to bed.

…

Esther jolted awake, startled by the sensation of someone shaking her shoulders.

 "Esther! Wake up, quick!" a voice hissed, barely above a whisper, though the urgency within it was unmistakable.

 "I'm awake, I'm awake," she muttered groggily.

Still half-asleep, she pushed herself upright—forgetting entirely that the space between her bunk and the one above was insufficient for sitting up straight. The resulting thunk echoed loudly as her head collided with the metal frame of the upper bunk.

Esther let herself fall back onto her pillow, groaning as she cradled her throbbing head. If her father had been in his bunk above her, he probably would've tumbled out from the shock of the impact.

When the pain subsided and she wiped the tears from her eyes, Esther's gaze fell upon Anna, the red-haired woman, who was visibly struggling to suppress laughter.

"Sorry, sorry—haha—I didn't mean to laugh. It's just… this happens to everyone on their first night in a submarine," Anna managed between stifled giggles. Her apology didn't sound very sincere, especially under Esther's murderous glare.

"What do you want?" Esther asked irritably, noticing for the first time that the room was shrouded in darkness—a clear sign it was lights-out in the crew quarters, marking the official nighttime aboard the submarine.

"Come with me," Anna said, her tone shifting to one of seriousness.

 "What for?" Esther asked again, her annoyance simmering as curiosity began to creep in.

In the dimness, she saw Anna flash a grin. "I've got something to show you."

 The spark of intrigue ignited within Esther, dispelling her irritation.

 "Show me what?"

Anna must have known she'd hooked her. Without another word, the red-haired woman turned and headed for the door.

 "If you want to know, follow me," Anna called over her shoulder.

…

In the silent, desolate corridor, their footsteps seemed to echo far louder than they should, reverberating against the metal walls like thunder in a still sky.

"Keep it down, will you? You'll wake the others," Anna scolded, throwing a glance over her shoulder.

"Not all of us walk like ghosts," Esther retorted under her breath.

Anna had tied her engineer's uniform around her waist, leaving her in a plain white tank top that outlined her slender frame. The dim corridor lighting accentuated how impossibly thin she was, revealing every contour of muscle beneath her pale skin.

"So," Esther began, her curiosity tinged with impatience. "Are you going to tell me where we're going? And why all the secrecy?"

"Aren't you supposed to be under the captain's orders to stay confined to your quarters?" Anna shot back, still walking ahead without turning around.

"Well… yeah…" Esther admitted, grudgingly.

"Don't you want to see the Border Station?" Anna teased, her tone playfully conspiratorial.

The Border Station.

 Esther had heard tales from travelers. Every nation maintained these outposts to refuel ships and submarines passing through, charging fees in return. More than mere fuel stops, they served as meeting points for voyagers seeking to exchange knowledge about the paths ahead.

"Of course I do! Wait… are we there already?" she asked, her excitement bubbling to the surface.

That's when it clicked. The ever-present hum of machinery, the heartbeat of the submarine since she'd boarded, was gone. Silence, save for their own footsteps, filled the space.

 The ship wasn't moving. Esther's excitement flared.

"We've been here for about three or four hours already… The captain and the soldiers are probably up on the station by now," Anna explained as she stopped in front of a pressurized hatch. Beside the door, a steel plate bore the words: Exit 2.

Anna reached for the handle, turning it with practiced ease. The sound of pressurized air hissing through the seal filled the corridor as the lock disengaged. With a nudge of her shoulder, she pushed the heavy door open.

And then Esther saw the station.

 It was… underwhelming.

She realized she'd set her expectations far too high. In her imagination, the station was like a grand seaport, complete with wooden docks that connected ships to the shore.

 What lay before her, however, was nothing more than a cavern wall.

It was a limestone wall, stretching endlessly in both directions and rising so high into the darkness that its full scale was impossible to comprehend. Of course, the overwhelming darkness that devoured both the edges of the world and the sky itself didn't help.

The Washington floated serenely, its deck breaking the water's surface. The hatch Anna had chosen led them out near the rear of the submarine.

Esther tilted her head back, her eyes following the faint beam of light cast by the submarine's floodlights. The darkness swallowed everything beyond that reach, infinite and absolute. Just looking into it made her knees tremble.

Am I really so terrified of heights that just looking at this void makes my legs weak?

"Does the second deck have an exit?" Esther asked as she slowly lowered her gaze, taking in her surroundings with deliberate care.

Ahead of her stretched a narrow walkway leading to the right. It was just wide enough for two steps side by side before it ended in a rail—beyond which turbulent waves crashed relentlessly against the ship's hull, spraying water so high that droplets rained onto the passageway.

A single misstep or slip would be enough to send her plunging into the black, churning abyss below.

"That's right. Oh, I forgot—you've been confined to quarters, haven't you? Never mind, I've scouted ahead for you. This ship has four main exits: two at the bow and stern on both the second and fourth decks. That's not counting the pressure chamber doors, of course." Anna glanced back and noticed Esther staring warily at the edge of the walkway.

"Just hold onto the rail and head right. There's a ladder not far from here," Anna said, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Esther nodded, grateful for the support.

The two of them carefully edged along the railing, moving to the right until they reached a metal ladder affixed to the ship's frame.

"Don't look back," Anna warned, gesturing for Esther to climb first.

Drenched from the relentless spray of water falling like rain, Esther began her ascent with utmost caution. Each step was deliberate; she tested the weight of her foot on every rung, silently chanting a mantra: Don't slip. Don't slip.

At last, the two of them stood atop the submarine's deck.

The Washington truly was a massive vessel. Its deck stretched roughly 100 meters in length, with a towering spire in the center—a structure Esther recognized as the periscope tower, which also served as the entrance to the pressure chamber on the submarine's first deck.

Beside the periscope tower, Esther noticed a thick rope extending upward from the submarine's hull, disappearing into a limestone cave about 10 meters above the vessel.

"Is that the station?" Esther asked, failing to mask her disappointment.

"Sure looks like it," Anna replied, her voice laced with the same disillusionment.

As they approached, Esther saw that a ladder had been secured to the rope, hanging at a steep angle from the submarine to the cave above.

"One rope to anchor the submarine..."

"And the other to string up a ladder," Esther murmured, piecing the setup together.

"How did they manage to secure the ropes up there in the first place?" Anna asked, her expression skeptical.

"There," Esther pointed toward the limestone wall below the cave's entrance, where iron stakes jutted out, each tethered to a descending rope. The stakes formed a climbing path up the rock face.

"So they had someone leap from the submarine, grab a stake, and climb all the way up?" Anna's tone was equal parts disbelief and horror.

"Or maybe there was someone already up there who tossed the ladder down," Esther replied with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as she grasped the rope.

Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down.

Anna followed close behind, and Esther guessed it was so she could catch her if she slipped—a touching gesture, albeit unnecessary, in her opinion.

Or maybe Anna was just as afraid of falling and wanted Esther to go first.

The two climbed in a crawl-like posture, spreading their weight evenly on the rope ladder as it swayed precariously in the dark abyss, angled steeply from the submarine's deck to the cave above.

Esther tilted her head, glancing behind her. She noticed the red-haired girl climbing with effortless ease, even moving faster than her. Anna paused a few steps below, waiting for her to continue. "You good?" Anna asked, locking eyes with her.

She's genuinely worried, Esther realized. "I'm fine," she replied, turning back and tightening her grip on the ladder's ropes. Her hands gripped firmly as she carefully adjusted her weight, ensuring the ladder didn't twist or flip beneath her. It wouldn't flip—two stabilizing ropes held the ladder securely to the ship—but the thought still gnawed at her.

Finally, her hands reached the limestone ledge of the cave. She pulled herself up, collapsing onto the solid ground with a breath of relief. She couldn't remember ever being so grateful to touch solid earth again.

Looking around, she saw that the cave spanned roughly 20 meters across. Its jagged walls and uneven ceiling suggested it wasn't a natural formation but rather the result of controlled explosions or human excavation.

"Pretty cool adventure, huh?" Anna's grinning face appeared above the edge of the ladder as she hoisted herself up. Esther shot her an exasperated glare.

"And where's the station? You didn't drag me all the way here just to see an empty cave, did you?"

Anna didn't answer. Instead, she stood, pulling a metal cylinder from her belt. Esther recognized it as a flashlight. With a click, a brilliant beam pierced through the oppressive darkness.

"Fresh from Revachol," Anna said, waving the flashlight like a trophy.

"Show-off," Esther teased as she pushed herself to her feet, moving to stand beside Anna.

It was then that Esther noticed Anna had gone still, her flashlight beam fixed on something deeper inside the cave. Following the light, Esther's breath caught as she saw what had frozen Anna in place.

About twenty meters deeper into the cave, at the point where the walls converged into an impenetrable dead end, stood a massive steel door embedded into the rock face. The door was monumental, towering over Esther like the facade of her own house. Thick metal pipes extended outward from its center, vanishing into the adjacent cavern walls.

What commanded attention most, however, was the series of bold letters etched across the door. Esther couldn't identify the language. It wasn't American, that much was certain.

Esther knew her mother tongue—American English—inside out, and she could muddle her way through the lingua marina, the universal maritime language of the Sunless Seas. She even had passable knowledge of Zen, the dialect of the Saipan Islands, and Reich, the imperial tongue of Dirk's Reich. But beyond conversational snippets, her grasp of written languages was rudimentary at best. Translating ancient runes or old documents required nothing less than the weighty dictionary her father often carried around.

Maybe she should've paid more attention to her father's lessons in linguistics.

"To the Motherland…" Anna's voice broke through Esther's musings, soft but unmistakable.

Esther turned to her companion, startled by the tremor in her tone. What she saw sent a shiver down her spine—Anna's face had gone pale as ash, her eyes fixated on the letters with an expression that blended horror and recognition.

"You can read that?" Esther asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

Anna didn't respond. Her gaze remained locked on the letters as if they might leap off the door at any moment. It wasn't until Esther snapped her fingers in front of her face that Anna blinked back to reality.

"Huh? What did you say?" Anna stammered, her expression a chaotic mix of joy, excitement, and unmistakable fear.

Esther's brow furrowed. "I asked if you could read those letters."

"I… Did I read them?" Anna's voice wavered, and she seemed genuinely unsure of herself.

Something about Anna's sudden change in demeanor unsettled Esther. The redhead, usually brimming with confidence, now looked like she had seen something she wished she hadn't. Esther decided against pressing further, but the unease was beginning to seep into her as well.

"Let's get closer," Anna said, her voice steady yet charged with urgency. She strode forward, the solitary beam of her flashlight slicing through the oppressive darkness. As the light moved away, shadows rushed in to envelop Esther.

"Hey, wait up!" Esther called after her, annoyance tinging her voice. She broke into a jog, unwilling to let the shadows close in completely.

As she approached the massive door, its sheer scale became undeniable. Standing before it, she felt like a mere ant gazing up at a titan's gateway. The weight of its size pressed down on her, making her acutely aware of her own insignificance.

"Check out this control panel—it must be for the door," Anna said, leaning over a console that stood waist-high. It was fitted with a lever and a large bulb, though the latter had long since shattered, leaving behind jagged edges of glass.

Esther stepped closer and, unable to resist the temptation, grasped the lever with both hands. She imagined herself as a submarine captain, commanding her vessel to dive deep into uncharted waters. She pulled it downward.

The screech of rusted metal echoed through the cavern, the sound amplified until it became almost unbearable. Esther winced, but nothing else happened.

"Did you really think that would work?" Anna asked, her tone light but tinged with amusement. "Look at the rust—this thing hasn't been maintained in at least twenty years." She shifted her focus to the door itself. "Besides, it looks like it's already open."

Esther followed the flashlight's beam, and sure enough, she saw it—a narrow gap in the enormous door. The darkness beyond was absolute, a void that swallowed even the flashlight's glare. Her throat tightened as her mind conjured images of the kind of monster that would need such a colossal barrier to keep it contained.

Anna, however, was already moving toward the opening, her flashlight leading the way. Esther hesitated for a moment, torn between following her companion and staying behind in the encroaching darkness. In the end, there was no choice at all.

"Are we seriously going in there?" Esther asked, her voice strained from both fear and the effort of fleeing the encroaching darkness.

Anna turned back, her face a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "We've come all this way, haven't we? Don't you want to see what's inside?"

"I'm starting to think maybe we shouldn't be here at all," Esther admitted, her curiosity now teetering under the weight of her growing fear.

"The soldiers and the captain have already gone inside. Besides, it's just a border station. What's there to be afraid of?" Anna replied with a shrug, squeezing herself through the narrow gap in the massive door.

Rain and Holland had asked her once: was she ready to face danger? Esther couldn't recall her exact answer, but she was certain it must have been something foolish and far from the truth.

"All that nonsense about not regretting even in death... In the end, I'm still afraid to die."

As Esther stepped through the narrow gap, she found herself standing in an enormous chamber. Its sheer scale dwarfed her; the ceiling was so high it disappeared into the shadows, and the sound of her footsteps echoed endlessly, hinting that the room was far larger than her father's museum back home.

Massive pillars dotted the space, evenly spaced throughout the room, seemingly serving as load-bearing supports. Surrounding them were mysterious cylindrical objects, their sharp tips pointed skyward. Each cylinder was about as thick as two people standing shoulder to shoulder and rose nearly four meters high.

Thin fins, sharp like the wings of a predatory fish, jutted out from the sides of each cylinder. Steel beams supported their bases, while tangled wires snaked across the floor, connecting them in a chaotic web.

The cylinders were arranged with meticulous precision, spaced just as evenly as the structural pillars. Esther's eyes darted around the room, and she counted over twenty of the strange objects within her line of sight.

Anna stood close to one of the enigmatic objects near the massive steel door. She tilted her head back, flashlight aimed at its side, the beam tracing the cylindrical surface.

"What is this?" Anna muttered as Esther joined her, eyes fixed on the towering structure.

"Whatever it is," Esther began, her voice laced with unease, "it looks like this entire room, and that colossal door, were designed just to contain these things."

"How underwhelming," Anna said, her tone laced with dry disappointment. "I was expecting skeletons, or maybe a giant spider trapped in here. But no, it's just scrap metal. Did they really need such an elaborate setup for this?"

Esther couldn't argue. It was impossible to imagine someone going through all the effort to build a chamber of this magnitude for mere scraps. These objects had to hold value, or significance, or perhaps…

...be as dangerous as a giant spider—or worse. Esther swallowed hard.

"It could be a weapon," she suggested.

Anna spun to face her, alarm etched into her expression. "What do you mean?"

"I've built model torpedoes before. The shape—cylindrical, with a tapered tip—it's almost identical. These might be weapons," Esther explained, her voice dropping to a whisper as the weight of her realization settled in.

Understanding dawned on Anna. "Oh…" she muttered, taking two cautious steps back from the object.

"I don't think this is just a border station. Let's get out of here before—" Esther's sentence cut short as something caught her eye.

Opposite the steel door, deep within the shadows, a faint red light blinked steadily.

"Do you see that?" Esther raised a trembling hand to point at the light. Anna followed her gaze, squinting into the gloom.

"That's impossible. This place has been abandoned for decades. How could there still be electricity?" Anna's voice quivered, the fear in her tone unmistakable.

Esther began walking toward the light, her shadow stretching long across the floor as Anna's flashlight followed her.

"Wait! Are you seriously going to check it out?" Anna's panicked voice echoed from behind her.

Esther didn't understand herself.

She was afraid—no doubt about it.

Afraid of the darkness that dominated everything, swallowing the world into its shadowy kingdom.

Afraid of the mysterious objects that could end her life at any moment.

Her mouth was parched from swallowing too many times.

Her legs trembled, weakened by the potent force of her fear.

And yet, they kept moving forward.

Yes, she was afraid to die. And yes, she didn't want to die.

Not until she knew what that thing was.

Unconsciously, Esther quickened her pace. She didn't glance back but could sense Anna hurrying after her, cursing under her breath.

The two passed pillar after pillar, identical structural supports that loomed in the vast chamber. They walked past more of the mysterious objects, each one standing like silent sentinels, until Esther lost count after twenty. Finally, they reached the far side of the hall.

There, embedded in the wall, was a door.

It was a simple, unassuming red metal door, the kind you might find in any mundane facility. Above it, a red light bulb blinked steadily—no doubt the source of the glow Esther had seen earlier.

On the door was a pull-handle, conspicuously lacking any keyhole.

"Are you… really going in?" Anna's voice was soft, almost hesitant.

What a reversal of roles, Esther thought. "This door is smaller than the last one, you know." She reached for the handle without waiting for a response.

"Well, yes, but—"

"The spiders inside are probably smaller too." Esther smirked at her own joke.

"Smart-ass." Anna grumbled, folding her arms.

Esther turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Nothing lunged at them. No monstrous spiders scaled to fit this smaller space. Nothing at all, except the damp, musty air that billowed out to greet them.

Stepping inside, Esther saw the light from Anna's flashlight illuminate a cramped rectangular room no larger than 40 square meters.

The walls were lined with metallic control panels, their intricate mechanisms bristling with buttons, switches, and dials. Every surface was crammed with machinery.

"A control room?" Esther guessed, feeling a twinge of disappointment. Her curiosity hadn't been entirely satisfied, but at least one mystery was beginning to unravel.

That's when Anna stepped forward, brushing past her.

"No… it's not a control room. It's a radio room," Anna whispered, her voice reverent. She reached out, her fingers brushing over the equipment with an almost tender touch.

Esther stood frozen, watching in astonishment as Anna began pressing buttons and flipping switches on the console, her movements precise and deliberate, like a conductor guiding an orchestra.

Turning dials with meticulous precision.

Pressing buttons swiftly, her movements a symphony of efficiency.

Each action flowed seamlessly into the next—no wasted effort, no extraneous motion.

To Esther, it was breathtaking, almost like a dance—a form of art in itself.

With every button Anna pressed, every switch she flipped, lights across the control panels flared to life.

In time, the room became bathed in the glow of the consoles surrounding them, an intricate constellation of technology.

When Anna finally pushed the last button, a burst of static—white noise—crackled from the speakers embedded in the walls. She punched the air with a triumphant yell.

"Perfect running sequence! One hundred points, Dad!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the cavernous space.

Not fully understanding what had just happened but swept up in the exhilaration, Esther raised her hands and cheered with all her might.

Their voices filled the massive chamber, bouncing off the walls in a cacophony of triumph.

At that moment, the mysteries surrounding them felt insignificant. They weren't small—they were giants within this hall of wonders.

When their voices finally faded, both collapsed to the floor, sitting back-to-back amidst the constellation of blinking control panel lights. The persistent static of the radio hummed softly in the background.

"How'd you do that?" Esther asked, her voice hoarse from yelling.

"Every single day," Anna replied, her tone just as raspy.

"You're insane."

"But cool, right?" Anna grinned.

"So cool."

Anna's laughter rang out, a melody of pure, unfiltered joy.

As Esther felt her back trembling from Anna's laughter, her gaze—facing the door—caught something stirring in the shadows beyond.

At first, it was merely a dark shape moving slowly, deliberately. But as it emerged into the faint light, the unmistakable silhouette of a gun barrel came into view.

Holland stepped through the murky veil of shadows, silent as death. His right hand gripped the stock of an automatic rifle aimed directly at her. His left hand, however, rose to his lips, a finger pressing lightly in a gesture that demanded silence. His piercing gaze met hers.

Before Esther could fully comprehend the scene unfolding before her, she felt the gentle yet unmistakable shift of movement at her back.

"Don't even think about it!" Commander Hector's voice thundered from outside the room.

Esther watched as Holland's left hand swiftly yanked the charging handle, his rifle now poised for action.

Then came the cold, unyielding touch of metal against her temple.

"If you come any closer, I'll shoot," Anna's icy voice echoed above her, revealing the other woman's position: kneeling, gun pressed firmly against Esther's head.

Esther's entire life had never brought her closer to death than this moment. She silently thanked every deity that she was seated, sparing her the embarrassment of visibly trembling legs.

"Anna… you're…?" Esther managed to whisper.

"That's right, Esther. I'm the spy," Anna replied, her voice sharp as a blade, pressing the barrel harder against her temple.

Holland knelt slowly, his rifle still trained on the pair. Behind him, two soldiers clad in jet-black diving suits flanked the doorway. Each bore an identical automatic rifle, their muzzles and helmeted heads barely visible from their positions of cover.

"I never pegged you for it, Communications Officer," Holland said, his voice as flat and unreadable as ever. "Was it really that easy? All I had to do was dock at the nearest abandoned Soviet frontline base, and you gave yourself away?"

"What?" Anna's voice wavered, edged with confusion.

"Don't play coy," Holland continued. "You already knew, didn't you? That's why you came here, to this radio room. You knew that the station's backup generators would still be running off the tidal currents. Enough power to send a message to your comrades."

The pressure of the gun against Esther's temple eased slightly, the muzzle trembling faintly now.

No one spoke. The silence settled like a heavy fog, broken only by the faint static of white noise crackling from the radio.

"So, you didn't know about this base. That rules out the Soviets. Saipan, then? Are you a spy from the Saipanese Republic?" Holland pressed on, piecing together the puzzle from the silence that followed.

Anna still didn't answer. Her grip on the gun was firm, but the trembling hadn't stopped.

"What's your play here?" Holland asked, his tone maddeningly calm. "You plan to hold a gun to Esther's head while ordering me to take you to Saipan?" His rifle remained unwavering, aimed directly at her.

Anna's trembling hand stilled as she pressed the gun harder against Esther's temple. "You heard it, didn't you?" she said, her voice breaking.

For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Holland's face. "What?"

"The song… under the drilling platform. The one you call the Gate." Her voice cracked further, trembling with fear—or something else entirely.

"You tapped into Pentagon comms?" Holland's voice hardened. "How did you access D.C.'s frequencies?"

At last, the muzzle of Anna's gun stopped shaking.

"Because I was born in that cursed city, that's why! And did you tell those soldiers outside what we're really after, Captain? Did you tell them the exploration project is a lie when you radioed that poor communications officer from Africa?" Anna's voice, raw from shouting, somehow managed to rise again. The vast chamber amplified her words, lending them an almost divine power.

"Does that justify burning his face and sneaking aboard this ship?" This time, the voice came from the soldier behind the door on the right. Esther recognized it as Commander Hector's.

"I didn't burn anyone's face! I told him the truth at that ridiculous party. Told him your government was sending them to die for something you'd hand over to the U.S. administration. Told him the exploration project was a sham. And you know what? He gave me his uniform and went straight home. How many of your crew do you think would've come aboard if you'd told them what you were really after?"

Anna's fiery words left the room in heavy silence once again.

"And so what? You're still a spy. You know how this ends. So spare us the justifications," Hector said, his voice tinged with irritation. "Lay down your weapon and surrender peacefully."

Esther felt the gun against her temple tremble once more.

If Anna truly was a spy, there was no way the soldiers would let her live. Using Esther as a hostage could only buy her time, nothing more. No negotiation would save her.

She was going to die.

Esther could hear Anna's breath, ragged and heavy, right by her ear. The realization of imminent death was like fuel to a fire, making her heart pound violently in her chest. The adrenaline coursing through Anna's veins must have made her feel like she was running a marathon, even though she hadn't moved an inch.

"I… I need to ask for something," Anna stammered, her words barely coherent. "I have just one condition."

Holland's expression didn't change, but Esther instinctively knew the captain was hesitating.

"For God's sake, Holland! What are you waiting for?" Hector roared.

Holland's finger eased off the trigger. "Speak." He nodded toward Anna.

"I want to know… What is the song? What is the door you keep talking about?" Anna's voice was trembling, almost pleading.

"Holland, you're not seriously considering this—" Hector's protest was cut off as Holland raised his right hand. Hector cursed under his breath but fell silent.

"Please," Anna whispered, her desperation palpable. "That's the only reason I boarded this ship."

In that moment, Esther realized just how similar the red-haired girl behind her was to herself.

 No, could she truly be as brave as Anna?

 Was she willing to stake her life to unravel a mystery?

For the first time, hesitation flickered across Holland's stoic face.

"Holland, this isn't necessary. Just because the girl says she's not a murderer doesn't mean—"

"Shut up, Hector."

Holland lowered his gun. And then, he began to speak.

"Sixty years ago, when the first drilling rig in Alaska was constructed as a joint effort between the United States and the Soviet Empire, they detected a strange frequency during the operation. That was the first time anyone heard the song from the depths. Both nations sent their submarines to investigate, but every single one of them disappeared without a trace. Suspicion of sabotage led to a war over the rig, turning it into a frontline base for further exploration."

The room fell utterly silent, as though every soul inside was entranced by Holland's story.

"Since then, every decade, the song has resurfaced from various points in the Sunless World's oceans. Submarines from different nations were sent down, only to vanish, or worse—return without a single discovery. Over time, it became a sailor's legend. Some say it's the song of a sea demon. Others claim it's the sound of ancient submarines still running beneath the waves." Holland paused, letting his words linger.

"To me, it's the gateway to the Old World."

The gateway to the Old World?

 The world Columbus left behind. A world where the skies burned with light and stars, where the oceans weren't pitch black.

 The Old World was a shared myth across every civilization in the Sunless World. The oldest legend humanity had ever known.

 Could the gateway to that world truly lie at the bottom of the sea?

Esther doubted even Holland knew the answer for sure.

 When he finished, silence fell again, heavy and all-consuming.

"The gateway to the Old World, huh?" Anna's voice was calm, almost satisfied, as her whisper brushed against Esther's ear.

"Go see it with your own eyes, Miss Cynic," she whispered.

And then, three things happened at once.

The gun pressed against Esther's head lifted.

 Anna rose to her feet in a single fluid motion.

 Holland snapped his rifle back into position, his finger returning to the trigger.

 And Esther—Esther stood, spreading her arms wide.

Bang!

The gunshot shattered the silence, its deafening roar reverberating throughout the cavernous hall.

Esther felt the searing heat of the bullet as it grazed past the tips of her hair. She realized, with a mix of shock and relief, that Holland had diverted his aim at the very last second.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Hector's voice, sharp with confusion, rang out from where the soldiers stood.

"Stand down." Holland's voice was cold, unnervingly authoritative.

But Esther remained rooted in place.

"Esther, what are you doing?" Anna's voice, laced with confusion and panic, came from behind her.

So you're scared to die, too. Just like me.

Amidst the cacophony of shouts, Esther summoned every ounce of strength left in her lungs and yelled, "Where did you hear that song!?"

Her voice rang out like a clarion call, silencing every other sound in the room.

The soldiers and officers froze, their voices snuffed out by surprise.

"What did you say?"

"You said you knew about the song before. But that song—it was recorded by the reconnaissance drone and transmitted back to D.C. So where did you hear it?" Esther's voice trembled but didn't waver as she continued, her back still turned to Anna. She saw only the cold, unyielding barrels of three guns aimed at her chest, yet she felt no fear.

Her legs didn't tremble, not even the slightest.

"I heard that song on this frequency. Four years ago," Anna replied.

"That's impossible," Holland countered, his voice sharp with disbelief.

"It's true! My father gave me the Soviet frequencies for transmitting data. At first, I even thought it was some kind of Soviet code," Anna insisted, her voice rising slightly.

Esther's mind worked at a breakneck speed, connecting dots, weaving fragments of information together to form a coherent picture. She surprised even herself with how quickly it all began to make sense.

But there was still one missing piece to complete the puzzle.

"You said you were born in D.C., right? Then how could you possibly be a Soviet spy?" Esther asked, narrowing her eyes.

"It's inherited," Anna said after a pause. "My grandfather infiltrated D.C. during the Alaska War. My father told me stories of his missions and taught me how to use the radio. He even gave me the frequencies to contact the motherland."

The puzzle wasn't complete, but Esther realized she had enough pieces to see the truth.

"You're not a spy."

As she spoke those words, Esther turned to face Anna, who was staring back at her with a mixture of confusion and unspoken questions.

"What did you say?" Anna asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Radio frequencies can travel far, yes, but not far enough to connect D.C. and the Soviet Isles without relay stations in between. You've never actually contacted them, have you?" Esther began laying out the pieces of her realization in words. The stunned look on Anna's face confirmed her theory.

"How did you know?" Anna asked, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and awe.

Esther continued piecing everything together without hesitation.

"Four years ago, my father and I started a radio broadcast project. We planned to build a station that would play music from the Old World using a phonograph and broadcast those songs on radio frequencies. Imagine it—sailors and ordinary people could listen to music without needing instruments or musicians. Unfortunately, the transmitter my father and I used broke after playing just one song."

"You're saying…" Anna's eyes widened.

"The song was 'Moonlight Sonata,' my father's favorite."

A chorus of exclamations came from the soldiers behind Esther.

"This is madness. What the hell is going on?" Hector's voice carried the weight of disbelief.

"So you're saying my father lied about my grandfather's mission?" Anna's voice trembled.

"I wouldn't know about that. Your grandfather might have been a spy who infiltrated D.C. But judging you as a spy, just because of what your ancestors did? That's absurd. You were simply trained to use a radio by your father, nothing more," Esther replied, her voice steady and filled with conviction.

"And you expect us to believe this spy didn't kill or burn that man's face at the docks?" Hector's skepticism pierced the air again.

"She admitted to being a spy, didn't she? If she's willing to own up to that, what's stopping her from lying about not killing anyone? The outcome would be the same." Esther pressed forward, her tone unwavering.

Almost there. Just a little more.

Esther locked eyes with Anna, her voice carrying a note of finality. "Captain, Anna is an exceptional communications officer. I'm sure you've noticed that. Where do you plan to find someone of her caliber to replace her? Or are you planning to continue this mission without a communications officer at all?"

Holland said nothing, and Esther couldn't discern the expression on his face. But she had said everything she could.

The silence that followed stretched endlessly, an eternity compressed into mere moments for Esther.

At last, the click of a safety being engaged broke the stillness, followed by the faint rustle of fabric as Holland slowly rose to his feet.

"If she still wants to continue this journey with us," he said, his tone flat but edged with finality.

As Holland's words faded, Esther turned to Anna with a warm smile.

"Let's go kill whatever spider is hiding behind that door together, okay?" she said, her voice brimming with a strange mix of relief and determination.

Before Esther could say another word, Anna threw herself into her arms.

Anna's sobs echoed through the cavernous hall, reverberating off the walls as if the room itself shared her sorrow.

"My name's Sonia," came the trembling words amidst her tears.

…

In the radio room, illuminated by the glowing panels of controls, three men in black diving suits stood amidst the artificial lights, their automatic rifles slung across their bodies. The white noise from the radio filled the silence, creating a constant, uneasy hum in the background.

"That kid... she's something else, isn't she?" Matthew, one of the men, remarked to Holland. "Gotta hand it to you—you've got an eye for people."

"But if she didn't kill the guy at the dock, then that means there's another spy still out there, doesn't it?" Hector grumbled, his tone laced with frustration. "Do you really believe everything she said?"

Matthew shrugged, glancing at Hector. "Her hand was shaking just trying to hold a gun to Esther's head. I've seen enough to know the girl's never killed anyone."

"You're too soft," Hector shot back curtly before turning his attention to Holland. "Leaving her loose—are you sure that's a good idea, Captain?"

Holland didn't respond immediately. His face remained impassive as he walked toward the radio's control panel. On the display, the frequency Anna had last set was still visible—the frequency her father had claimed was a Soviet channel.

Holland raised a hand, pressing several buttons and flipping a switch to shift the radio from shortwave to longwave.

A sharp, sustained beep pierced the air, followed by the crackle of static that faded into a voice—speaking Russian, its words heavily accented and deliberate.

"Some things," Matthew muttered, his gaze drifting toward the towering cylindrical objects standing in the shadows outside the room, "are better left unknown."

Hector followed Matthew's gaze before nodding in reluctant agreement.

"When it comes to these things... maybe no human should ever know the truth."