Diggory’s eyes popped open, his mind shifting from sleep to awareness in the span of seconds. A brass ceiling graced his vision, the rivets and beams plainly clear even in the near-total dark. He turned his head to the clock, an egg-shaped curiosity whose steady ticking stalwartly guarded the bedroom against total silence. Two minutes to Mid-Dark. He reached out to grab the thing, quietly turning off the mechanism that would ring its tiny metal bells. Turning over, he fiddled with the brass knobs until the flicking paper numbers on back read 07:30 and reset the alarm.

With careful slowness, he climbed out of the bed, his eyes set upon the sleeping form on the opposite side. Once certain his sister Cleio hadn’t been awoken, he set the clock on his pillow where it could be easily reached… and not be smashed by the inevitable force of her reaction. She wouldn’t be happy with herself if pre-work grumpiness led her to damage their father’s creation.

Though the room barely fit the bed and dresser, Diggory got dressed with the ease of practice and soon slipped into the main cabin. As expected, the lights were unlit and the cramped space empty. He thought about leaving right then, but a glance at his parents’ closed door gave him pause.

You sleep for eight hours then go stand on that stupid tower for another eight, and don’t even bother to grab a bite! I didn’t raise my baby boy to be so unhealthy.

Sighing, he knelt beside the cold storage hatch, straining his thin arms to get the heavy iron thing opened. That done, he climbed down the ladder and took in the month’s rations.

Or at least, he tried to. Before long the frozen foodstuffs faded from his mind, his eyes drifting to a dark corner. They lingered, the hard iron steadily replaced by an empty nothingness. He knew this sensation. He’d been feeling it for two years. It was… he couldn’t really explain, even to himself. Heavy and hard, blinding and consuming, filling him at once with both anxiety and longing.

The bottles on the shelf rolled to clink against their hard containers. The quietest of sounds, but enough to catch Diggory’s attention. Shaking himself – from the cold, surely – he grabbed a half loaf of bread. With one last, longing look at the corner, he climbed back up the ladder and closed the storage hatch. Not a minute later, he’d put on his overcoat, put the bread in his little-used satchel and slipped out the door.

Frontbow’s lower levels. If Diggory had to describe them, he always did so with one word: creepy. Having been born within these dark, rusting halls didn’t lessen the effect. Walking through them, path illuminated only by the dim, buzzing lights on the corners of the floor, he always imagined he were in the digestive tract of some massive fish. Nothing but endless doors ahead. Nothing but endless doors behind. Pipes stretching overhead in perpetuity. It left the impression that one could walk for years and never see an end.

His thick boots rang heavily on the rust-red floor, save for when he stepped upon the black gratings. The consistent monotony was interrupted at last: a middle-aged woman, dressed in the ugly brown overalls of Maintenance, stood atop a ladder repairing a shut-down steam pipe. Diggory made no attempt to greet the heavyset worker. Instead he passed by with head bowed, his eyes following the feet of the ladder as he passed. Anxiety churned in his guts. Any moment she might dare to speak to him. He hunched his shoulders in anticipation…

The ladder faded from peripheral view. He could hear her digging through a tool kit atop the ladder. He imagined her eyes on him, judging and expectant. Why did he not acknowledge her, she might ask. At least make eye contact. The thoughts only made him stuff his hands into his pockets and squeeze them into fists.

But she said not a word. Soon, mercifully, he was well beyond her. His shoulders loosened. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and shook them loose. He continued into through the dark corridors of the beast, hoping someone else would show up.

---

It’s not going to fall. It’s not going to fall.

The lift didn’t fall. It never did. Even so, when the cold air hit him through the gate and the grinding finally ceased, Diggory all but ran out of the thing. He emerged in the night air, a chill wind running through his short brown hair. His chest expanded with his deep breaths and his pulse steadied. To speed up the process, he leaned back to stare at the stars. No moon tonight, small scattering of clouds. His vision would be good tonight. It was good every night, but New Moon shifts were always the best.

With his heartbeat back to normal, he straightened up and took in his surroundings. The metal deck went on for hundreds of yards ahead, blocked by the presence of so many square metal structures. Turning his head to the right rewarded him with the sight of an endless length of iron, steel, aluminum and even concrete.

Lower level Dwellers always found Topside fascinating, with its huge towers and shining windows. The great wind turbines arched out of the structures as a vast wave, all spinning at their leisurely rates while electricity hummed through the air like a million bilge flies. At night, most of it appeared as little more than a great monster blotting out the stars, but in the daylight it was be something to see. Many would consider Diggory lucky for having a job that let him see it regularly.

His illogical fear of lifts cast aside, he proceeded to walk towards Fortune’s bow. As always, he made sure to walk the path that would lead him to the Boundary. From there he could look out over the two inch thick safety cables at the great miracle known as the ocean. There’d never been anything that could compare to the sight of endless water. The sound of the waves some thousand feet below filled his ears with a pleasant melody with the rushing wind its accompaniment. He spotted a Fortune’s Child in the distance, just a speck to even his keen eyes. Given its position, he imagined it’s return cable was hooked up a few hundred feet ahead.

Sure enough, when he leaned over the railing he saw ahead a steel line going up to the hull roughly five hundred feet below. He always wondered, if the cable were ever detached, would the fishermen be able to get back? Would the Fortunate Captain even let them back on? He recalled the legend of the Starstruck Angler, doomed to starvation out on the open waters for daring to stray too far from home. The thought made him shudder, and he quickened his pace.

The ocean was beautiful, but Diggory had no intention of going out there.

---

“Diggory Caito. Fifteen minutes early, as usual.”

Fishel Medina was a big fellow, like most people in his family. He easily stood a foot taller than the gangly Diggory. His two arms probably had more mass than the Dweller had in his entire body, and every bit of that bulk was muscle. He possessed his uncle’s bleached blonde hair, but the startlingly bright green eyes belonged to his mother, or so Diggory had been told.

At the moment, the tanned giant sat behind a desk outside the Bowside Watchmaster’s Office, elbow on top and cheek in hand as he tapped a pencil on the list before him. Were it not for the clips holding everything down, the night’s winds would have surely sent everything on the desk scattering to the ocean. Diggory never understood why the watch officer’s desk had been placed outside the office. It seemed like the height of stupidity. One of the few things Fishel and he had in common was complete agreement on this matter.

“You know me, Mr. Medina.” Diggory didn’t bother with the salute as he would for most watch officers. “So which one have I got tonight?”

Fishel made a show of snapping the clips holding the list and looking it over. He’d almost certainly memorized tonight’s roster days ago, but Diggory knew better than to say anything. He waited patiently, hands in his pockets, as the officer ran his finger down the page.

“Ah, there you are.” The page was set back in place with equal care before Fishel concluded, “Central. You’re saddled with Kendall tonight.”

Diggory tried not to wince. He had no idea if he’d succeeded. “Understood. Any special orders for tonight?”

With a dry tone, Fisher replied, “Don’t fall asleep and keep your dick in your pants.”

“Aye, Captain.” With a limp salute, Diggory turned and walked off.

“Don’t call me captain,” Fisher grumbled. “That’s my uncle.”

---

Gemma Kendall was a nice girl by all accounts. She was fairly attractive with her long black hair, steel grey eyes and pale, freckled complexion. She had the body of a runner: big thighs, small chest and shoulders, whipcord muscle. Everyone agreed that she was friendly and entertaining. As a resident of Topside, she earned big points in the eyes of the few Dwellers who knew her for not looking at them as though they were bilge water. Her parents sometimes hosted social events for the lower residents. Diggory rarely went to them due to his work, but they were pleasant enough affairs. His sister sure enjoyed them.

There was only one problem.

“You should have seen the way he jumped it, it was the most amazing leap I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen them all! It’s a shame you Dwellers can’t get to Topside more often, I could show you all the best tracks. Tracks are only so good, though; if you really wanna have fun, you’ve gotta try parkour, and you can’t do that on some nice, neat track.”

Gemma Kendall never shuts up.

“Maybe someday I’ll get to show you this one area over in Sternwharves. They’ve got all these cargo containers just lying around, begging to be used. I go there about once a week for practice, the place is awesome. ‘Course, if Dad ever found out he’d rip his mast, but whatever, I know what I’m doing.”

Never.

Some guys might have enjoyed being in Diggory’s position. After all, Gemma was pretty attractive and came from a prestigious Topside family. Why she wanted a job on the watch he would never know. For now he let her ramble on, half-listening as he gave little signs of attention and acknowledgement. Two years of suffering her prattle on made him – and all the other watchers in Frontbow – skilled at knowing how to do this.

The brunt of his attention was on the waves up ahead of the Fortune, as it had been for many hours. His eyes pierced the dark, allowing him a farther view than any other this night. He had proof of that, with a tested range at least ten miles further than his closest rival. Not that there was any real ‘rivalry’ to speak of, so it felt silly to think of it that way. One made do with what one had.

It really was all he had, wasn’t it? Ever since graduating the Mariner’s College, for five nights out of the seven, he came up here and stared at the ocean. He had no doubt that this was where he would be next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. The Eyes of Fortune. He once took pride in that title. To a degree, he still did.

But some nights he felt differently. Tonight he stared at the distant horizon, a thin line of black on black, and wondered at the dark beyond his vision. For two years, he’d gazed at that line and seen nothing. For two centuries, men and women had stood where he did, buffeted by rain and snow and sunshine and wind, and seen nothing. Four times a year, the Fortune would call in its Children, retract its Topside structures into its vast underbelly, and sink beneath the surface to gather the needed hard minerals of the ocean floor. Four times a year, it would surface once more to reap the ocean’s bounty of fish to keep the hundreds of thousands of inhabitants alive.

And four times a year, the watch would be the first to step into the fresh air and look to the horizon.

Where they would see nothing.

What a glorious adventure his life was set to be.

His head jerked forward as something smacked against the back of his skull. “Hey, Fortune to Diggory Caito! Come in, Diggy!”

“By the Captain’s Pipe, Gemma, I hear you!” He rubbed the back of his head and shot her a glower. “What was that for?”

“For ignoring me, ya bilge scum.” She stuck her tongue out at him, crossing her eyes for good measure. “I know you guys have learned how to tune me out, but when you don’t bother answering questions it starts to get obvious.”

With a sigh, he turned to look out to the horizon once more. The sky had begun its gradual shift to dawn, a purple-pink sheen coming over the endless ocean. Had he been daydreaming for that long? “Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

Slightly taller than him, she reached her elbow up to his shoulder and leaned against him. She was heavier than she looked. “What, staring at the scenery? Or lack thereof. Why stare at that when you could be staring at me?”

“I think you’ve got enough guys staring at you.” His eyes widened as he realized exactly what he’d said, and his cheeks grew hot.

She broke into raucous laughter before his embarrassment could lead to any stammering corrections. “Ain’t that the truth!” She sat on the stool welded to the floor of the watch basket and rested her elbows on the railing. Her eyes dropped to the deck hundreds of feet below them. “So what’s got you in a rut?”

Swallowing down his aborted apologies, Diggory turned about to stare at the Winds of Fortune in all her metallic glory. No, not all of it; with so many towers and cranes and smoking chimneys, nobody could see all three miles from the front of it, not even at this height. The Command Center alone, roughly a thousand feet from their position, blocked most of the view with its vast, shallow dome.

He frowned and shook his head. How to explain what he felt? The emptiness that seemed to linger within him, the desire for… he wasn’t sure what. Something else. What else? He couldn’t be sure there was anything else to desire. “I’m just… tired of the view.”

Gemma said nothing. A minor miracle. He glanced at her, but her eyes remained below. With another sigh, he turned to face the ocean once more… and froze.

“…what is that?”

Gemma raised her head to squint at the horizon. “Uh, it’s called water, genius.”

He gripped the rails and leaned forward. He could just make it out: a thin line on the horizon.

Years of schooling and training screamed at him. Pick up the communicator, call it in, alert the Fortunate Captain. And yet he could only stand there, gaping.

“What is it?” Gemma stood and set a hand to his shoulder. “Diggy? What do you see?”

“I… I don’t know.” He didn’t dare blink, lest the image prove illusion. Whatever it was, it was long, and it kept getting longer. But it couldn’t be a ship. There were no ships. Barring silly legends like the Mourners Galleon, but he doubted even a ghost ship containing the lost souls of those who abandoned the Fortune’s protection would look so flat.

Gemma leaned over the rail with him, then growled and shook him. “Come on, I don’t have your eyes! What is it??”

With her shaking, his mind kicked into gear, or at least some semblance of it. “The book. G-get the book.”

“The book? What—oh, the book!” She departed his peripheral vision, but returned within only a couple seconds, handing him the thick paperback that had sat in its protective case untouched since its routine replacing eight years ago.

Though he dreaded losing sight of the… the thing, Diggory forced his eyes down and poured over the tome’s contents. He’d seen this before, back in training. Nobody became a watcher without passing a test on this stupid book, and he knew that he’d seen something like this in it. He kept glancing at the horizon, just to make sure the thing was still there. At last, he came upon the yellowed page he was after. It showed numerous silhouettes, and emphasized in the description that no two were ever alike. It was something that didn’t drift, didn’t possess engines, and didn’t dive beneath the waves. Something that grew its own food and weathered any storm. Something that existed only in myth and legend.

“Land.”

Gemma’s eyes widened. “What?”

He looked at her, lips working soundlessly for a moment. Then he examined the object in the distance, still little more than a sliver. “It’s… land.”

Seconds passed, their silence interrupted only the wind. Diggory felt… he didn’t know what he felt. An odd, rising sensation in his chest, like he might float away if he didn’t grip the railing as tightly as he could. Land. I’ve seen land.

Gemma’s face cracked into a broad grin. “Nice try.”

He blinked. “What?”

With a giggle, she punched his shoulder hard enough to sting. “And here I thought you didn’t know how to prank a girl. You had me going.”

“This isn’t a prank!”

She brushed her ponytail over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. How’s about I get the binoculars, landlubber? If they even still work.”

Before she’d even finished her sentence, Diggory dove at the supply box welded to the side of the watch pole. It took some digging, but at last he found the mentioned binoculars. He had completely forgotten the things even existed! He thrust them in her hands and pointed out over the ocean. “Go ahead. Look.” When she smirked, he grabbed her shoulders and forced her to turn in the proper direction. “Look!”

She shrugged herself from his grip. “Oh, I see; this is just an excuse to get grabby, isn’t it?” She giggled and raised the binoculars to her eyes. “Alright, let’s get this over… with…” Her smile faded.

“You see?” He bounced from foot to foot, pointing at the ever growing object. “What the heck do you think it is?”

Gemma flipped the binoculars, checking the lenses. She tried cleaning them with her shirt, then looked again. “It’s… it’s an illusion. A trick of the dawn.”

“We have been watchers for two years, Gemma. I think we both know ocean illusions when we see them by now.”

“But it can’t be.” She lowered the binoculars, revealing wide eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, her hand reached for the phone. “We have to—”

He caught her wrist. She looked to him, brow furrowing. “What?”

Indeed, what? What made him stop her? Protocol said they should alert Command if they spotted anything. If they didn’t…

But for whatever reason, Diggory gently pulled her hand back from the phone. “I… I think we should wait.”

“Wait?” She jerked her wrist back and waved at the distant horizon. “I think this might be important!”

He stepped between her and the phone. He didn’t understand why, or what he wanted. All he knew was that this felt important. He looked past her worrying gaze at the portside watchtower, then turned around to view the starboard watchtower. Even from hundreds of feet away, he could see the watchers at their posts and knew they’d yet to see what they had. They would have been reacting in some way, surely.

Satisfied, he met Gemma’s shifting eyes. “Let’s wait. Have the others see it.”

She pursed her lips. Her fingers fiddled with the buttons on the collar of her coat. “But… but why?”

“I…” He sucked in a deep breath and faced the ocean. On the horizon, the line had nearly doubled in size. “I want to see more.”

---

Diggory often underestimated the vast difference between his vision and that of most of his fellow watchers. With the sun coming up, he’d anticipated someone spotting the ever-growing line in the north within an hour. But the hour passed, and the line soon became a green blob growing bigger and bigger. Gemma was unusually quiet the entire time, her gaze always on either the land, Diggory or the phone. He had no idea why she’d relented to his request, and expected at any moment for her to give up and grab the phone.

But it never happened. It took over four hours and the sun being well into the sky for the other watchers to finally notice the emerald object in the distance. Of course, by that point anyone on the deck below could see it too. The people down there, little more than ants, crowded the aft of Fortune, undoubtedly taking in the miraculous sight. Diggory felt little pride in his fellow watchers if they did their jobs this poorly every night. No wonder his sister said he had a cushy position.

So many of what transpired surprised him, but none so much as the Fortunate Captain’s reaction.

---

Never in his life had Diggory anticipated being in the Command Center. Even less had he expected to appear before the Captain’s Council. they were in a wide, windowless room of shining steel, with the Council’s Table being a long, semicircular thing around which seven officers sat. The Fortunate Captain himself, with the long blonde hair of his nephew, sat in the middle in an immaculate silver uniform. The pictures in the textbooks always depicted him as a smiling, fatherly figure.

He wasn’t smiling now.

“Diggory Caito. Gemma Kendall.”

At his hard tone, Diggory stood at his straightest, arms set at his sides and heels clicked together. He couldn’t see Gemma at his side, but knew she’d done the same.

The Fortunate Captain leaned forward, eyeing them with a scowl that had Diggory sweating beneath his overcoat. “You two were the forward watch for the night. At what time did you first become aware of the object to the north?”

He glanced at Gemma out the corner of his eye. She returned the look. Her lip trembled and her eyes shined with fear. He didn’t understand. Why was she so afraid? Why did the Fortunate Captain act as if this discovery was so terrible? True, they’d broken protocol, but this seemed a bit much.

“Mr. Caito.”

He forced his eyes forward once more, this time to the gray-haired, female officer to the captain’s left. Lieutenant Carter, he recalled. She peered at him through a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, her gaze like steel. “We know you have the best eyes on the Winds of Fortune, and your record is immaculate, so I hope you’re not about to suggest you didn’t notice.”

He hesitated, taking a moment to calm his nerves with a heavy breath. Or two. “Sir. I noticed the object at first light, perhaps thirty minutes before dawn.”

The Captain’s eyes narrowed. “And why did you not follow protocol, Mr. Caito?”

Diggory did his absolute best not to fidget. “I… wanted to see more. Sir.”

“Wanted to see more.” The captain leaned back in his seat and turned his hard gaze on Gemma. “And you, Ms. Kendall? Why didn’t you immediately contact Command?”

Unlike Diggory, Gemma shot back an answer in an instant. “Sir. I believed the object to be an illusion, sir.”

One officer near the corner, a chubby, dark-skinned man – Lieutenant Longskill – spoke in a tone of incredulity. “For four hours? You thought you were looking at an illusion for four hours.”

“That is correct, sir.” Diggory had to give Gemma credit; even when she looked terrified out of her mind, she knew how to speak with and to authority.

The Fortunate Captain removed his hat and rubbed his temple. “Do you two have any idea what you’ve done?”

Diggory shared a questioning look with Gemma. Neither answered.

“Of course you don’t.” Resting his arms on the table, the Captain studied them one at a time. “The only thing keeping me from throwing you both in the Depths is the knowledge that all of us at this table made similar stupid mistakes once. With that in mind, we’re going to have to discuss what to do with you.”

Longskill shook his head vehemently. “It’s too risky, Hubrecht. We should lock them up now.”

But the Captain waved him off. “I will decide what to do with them after hearing the advice of the entire council, Jacob, and no sooner. And we have to deal with this fiasco first.” He turned his attention back to the two watchers. His face softened, albeit in the same way wood was softer than steel. “Have you two anything to say in your defense?”

This was it! Diggory gave Gemma a two second pause, just to see if she’d speak up. When she didn’t, he found the courage to open his mouth. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

He thought he saw the corner of the Captain’s lip twitch upwards, but perhaps not. “Granted.”

Sucking down a deep breath, Diggory brought forth the one question that had been stirring in his mind for the last two hours. “I noticed that Fortune is making a turn east, and all I’ve been hearing so far is… negative.” He spread his hands wide before him, palms up. “Why is discovering land a bad thing?”

“That is not an appropriate question for—”

“Thomas.” The captain raised his hand, silencing the lieutenant on his right. “I for one think secrecy is one of the reasons we’re in this mess, and I’m tired of seeing good watchers sent below for things they can’t control.”

When nobody spoke out against him, he leaned forward to look Diggory in the eye. “The truth, Mr. Caito, is that you two are not the first to see land. It has always been out there, and it always will be. But land is a dangerous, terrible place. People go there to die, no more. As the commanding officer of the Fortune, it is my duty and responsibility to avoid land at all costs. We cannot have our people leave the safety and comfort of this ship to go off on some suicidal journey to a lost paradise.”

That seemed… strange. It sounded logical enough, but Diggory sensed something off about the explanation. Yet he couldn’t call the Fortunate Captain out on such a thing… could he? No, better to keep his mouth shut. He was in enough trouble as it was.

Gemma, on the other hand, apparently found her own courage. “But why would you not tell the watchers this so they can respond properly?”

“A question I have asked myself a few times,” Lieutenant Carter replied, her piercing eyes turning on other members of the Council.

“And one we will be bringing up again in the near future,” the Captain announced before anyone else could respond. “Right now, our priority is ensuring the reality of land doesn't stir up the citizens into calling for such ridiculous things as landfall and exploration.” He cast another scrutinizing look at the two watchers standing before him. “You will discuss the land with nobody. If you so much as breathe one word about it, you’ll be in Deep Depths before you get the chance to inhale. Am I clear?”

Diggory snapped to attention once more, his “Sir, yes sir!” echoing Gemma’s.

The Fortunate Captain gave a curt nod. “You are both confined to your respective quarters until further notice. Dismissed.”

They saluted and walked out, and Diggory's shoulders slumped the moment the doors closed behind him. “By Fortune's Protection, they’re threatening to throw us in Deep Depths.”

As they walked down the brightly lit halls for the exit, Gemma asked, “Did the Captain’s story seem funny to you?”

Diggory glanced around, his shoulders hunching once more. Was this really a good discussion to be having while still in the Command Center? He looked through a door as they passed, spotting three security officers having a conversation around a filing cabinet. Each one had a sidearm.

Still, his curiosity got the better of him. “In what way?”

“I dunno, it’s just…” She shook her head. “After what we’ve seen… it’s a big deal, isn’t it? It’s amazing. But they talk like it’s almost routine. How do they know that everyone who goes there dies? And—”

“Gemma.” He leveled her with a hard look. “I get it, I really do. Believe me, I’m asking similar questions. But we’ve been forbidden to talk about it, and I do not want to spend the rest of my days cleaning bilge tanks in the Depths, alright?”

“Right, right. You’re right.” She sighed and fiddled with her collar’s buttons. “I guess we should just forget all about it, right?”

He paused in the middle of the hall, staring at her. Upon noticing his absence, she turned back to him with an uncertain look.

“No, Gemma,” he whispered. “I don’t want to forget.

“I don’t think I could.”

---

Cold. So terribly, terribly cold. Diggory sat in the corner, squeezing his knees to his chest. His eyes remained set on the opposite side of the room, where he saw… darkness. Nothing else, just darkness. Surely his breath was fogging up in the cool air, but even that was beyond his superior vision. He licked his lips, trying to instill some moisture in them.

One thought came to him, over and over again: I’ve seen land. It had been quiet at first, hardly perceptible since he’d climbed down from the watchtower. Now, in the absence of sight, with only the constant hum of the machines, the words were like an overbearing metronome.

I’ve seen land.

I’ve seen land.

I’ve seen land.

Why did it obsess him so? He couldn’t stop staring into the darkness, longing. Longing for… what? Such a mysterious thing, and yet he knew the answer: the beyond. The unknown. The fathomless abyss that existed beyond the edge of Fortune and knowledge and the Captain’s all-powerful reach. Something more than staring down endless metal hallways and gazing at an empty sea for years on end till death grasped his soul and dragged it into the watery tomb of his ancestors.

But that was beyond him, wasn’t it? The land was gone, somewhere behind the Fortune and never to be seen again. Here he would stay, at least until the Council decided what to do with him. Down in Deep Depths to a life of muck and stink and tightly scheduled routine, or back up on the watchtower, forever seeking that which had been within his grasp for all of a few hours?

Either way, he felt trapped.

So he sat there, shivering and scared, and stared into the darkness from which he couldn’t look away.

There came the sound of a hatch being opened. Dim light poured into the room, and though it could be only a single handlight it still nearly blinded him. He raised his srm to block the light, trying to see who had intruded on his thoughts.

“Diggory? By the Captain, what are you doing in cold storage?”

Of course. Cleio. “Turn off the damn light.”

Said light clicked off, and his sister frowned at him from the top of the ladder. She spoke in a hushed whisper. “You big dork, get out of there before you freeze to death. What were you thinking?”

With a heavy sigh, Diggory forced himself to his feet and started climbing. “Just trying to imagine what life in Deep Depths will be like.”

“By freezing your butt off?” She helped him stand before quietly closing the hatch. “I’m pretty sure it’s not like that.”

“And besides, you’re not going to the Depths, Diggy.”

He blinked at the unexpected voice. Their cabin was dark once more, so at the very least it was still night. He turned his head to look for the intruder and felt his jaw drop. “Gemma? What are you doing in our cabin?”

Standing near the door, Gemma fiddled with the buttons on her coat, her eyes shifting about the room as though she expected to be noticed at any second. “I came to get you. Fishel’s holding some big-time meeting in one of the cargo houses and wants all the watchers on duty yesterday morning to be there.”

Her anxiety had suddenly become contagious; Diggory began rubbing the tips of his fingers across his palms. What was Fishel’s game? Was this sanctioned by his uncle? “We’re supposed to be confined to quarters.”

At that, Gemma rolled her eyes. “Are you going to say no to him? We refuse this and he might try to convince the Captain that we really do deserve to be in the Depths.”

“And I’m coming with you,” Cleio declared, her tone brooking no argument.

Diggory glanced at her, then to Gemma. She shrugged and said, “Fishel said it would be okay if she asked.”

Because he had the hots for her, no doubt. The idea of that giant being in the same room as his little sister left a queasy feeling in Diggory’s stomach. Then again, she was nineteen and could make her own decisions. Now didn’t seem like the time for an argument, not with their parents sleeping in the next room and one of Fortune’s most privileged sons waiting for them.

“Fine. Let me grab my coat.”

---

Clothes storage. In the daytime, this place would be filled to the brim with workers sorting, cleaning, drying and packing clothes for Frontbow’s tens of thousands of citizens. Tonight it held only around a hundred people, coming from all walks of life. Mechanics, anglers, factory workers, security officers, watchers hullworkers, even a few shopkeepers and artisans from Topside. They all stood in a tight group, speaking together in anxious, hushed voices.

“This is a lot more than I expected,” Cleio whispered, standing between Diggory and Gemma.

Diggory eyed the crowd, feeling as though something were very wrong. Many of them appeared nervous, but far more had the hard eyes and furrowed brows of the upset. especially the security officers, who kept reaching for their missing sidearms as if expecting a fight. He leaned towards Gemma and hissed, “And you really don’t know what’s going on?”

“For the last time, no.” Gemma shook her head, fingers rubbing the paint off her coat buttons. “All I know is what Fishel said when he came to my rooms earlier tonight.”

At that moment, the man in question climbed onto a large laundry container. “Alright, everyone, let’s get this started.” All eyes turned to him, but the sudden attention did nothing to faze him. He wore a scowl and surveyed the crowd, his eyes pausing on Diggory for about a second.

When the whispers finally died down, Fishel spoke. “As all of you know, yesterday morning we encountered something that we’d only known through myth and legend: land.” He paused for the buzz of the crowd to die down once again. “We all know the stories. The Lost Hullman who found shore and was eaten by a creature beyond imagining. The Flighty Damsel who was entranced by land’s beauty and died of hunger. My uncle would have us all believe that land is nothing but death, destruction and misery.”

He raised his hands to silence the crowd before they could fall into another wave of quiet discussions. “But those are not the only stories! They also say land is a place where food grows from beneath your feet. Water comes from high places and doesn’t need to be desalinated. Creatures roam, ready to be tamed or eaten as needed. And wood that grows naturally – naturally – without the need for extensive, space-consuming sundecks!”

He began pacing, hands clasped behind his back and eyes roaming the crowd. “I have tried to convince my uncle that this place, this ‘land’ should be explored. If it is half of what the legends say, we could thrive there. Imagine it, enough space that none of us would have to live within thirty feet of our closest neighbor. Honest to Captain privacy. Why should we ignore such an opportunity?”

He paused, hands clenching into fists as his face grew red. “You know what he told me? ‘Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.’”

Diggory leaned forward, all his attention locked on Fishel. If this was going where he thought it was going…

Could the darkness be fading?

Fishel gave himself a moment, and the heat in his cheeks gradually faded. He spread his hands wide to the crowd before him. “All of you are here because you’ve seen the land, and expressed an interest in seeing more. If we are going to make use of this once in a lifetime chance, we need to do something. I’ve asked you all here to start a discussion about exactly what that something is.” He gestured invitingly to the crowd. “As of right now, I’m opening the floor to anyone who has an idea, who thinks they might have a solution we can use. We’ve got to convince the Fortunate Captain to take us to land!”

Fishel kept speaking, but Diggory stopped paying attention. Fresh, alluring ideas swam about his skull. Land. A way to go to land. Someplace new, where his life could be more than cramped corridors and endlessly staring at an empty sea. And all they needed was a plan.

Gemma hunched her shoulders. “This is big.”

“It’s dangerous, is what it is,” Cleio hissed. “I don’t care if he is the Captain’s nephew, if we get caught we’re all going to the Depths.”

“Agreed. I’ve half a mind to just go home right now and forget any of this ever… Diggory?”

He barely heard them. He walked through the crowd towards the container, watching as someone climbed up to Fishel and spoke his piece. There was a small line, a half dozen men and women. Diggory listened intently to each one, weighing pros and cons. He barely acknowledged the nearby presence of Gemma and Cleio.

By the time he reached the container, all sorts of absurd ideas had been brought up, right up to and including a coup – that idea didn’t get much attention at all. The audience was still talking among themselves about the last idea when Diggory climbed up and approached Fishel. The big man had his arms crossed, his muscles bulging and his face red once more. He likely didn’t have a positive opinion about any of the ideas that had come up so far.

His eyebrows rose at the sight of Diggory beside him and his anger faded instantly. “Caito? I’m glad you came, but I didn’t think I’d see you up here.”

Diggory nodded stiffly, his fingers rubbing his palms frantically. Now that the man mentioned it, he couldn’t believe he was up here either. Sucking down a deep breath, he kept his focus on the larger man as he spoke. “The Fortunate Captain will never, under any circumstances, agree to turn the Fortune around.”

Silence filled the room. Fishel’s eyes narrowed and his scowl came back in full force.

Diggory went on while he still had this chance. “If we’re going to go to land, there’s only one way: by ourselves.”

Fishel’s anger disappeared. “By ourselves?”

“By ourselves.” Diggory turned his attention to the crowd, who were gaping at him as if he’d just suggested blowing up the Fortune’s engines. He flinched at the attention of so many, but couldn't let himself stop now. “We take a Fortune’s Child. Those things have enough room for everyone here and supplies for a few months. Get it on the water, cut it loose from the Winds of Fortune and go back to the land.”

“That’s ridiculous,” someone in the crowd called. “They'll send others to stop us!”

“Why?” Diggory looked out in the direction the voice had come from. “They can’t catch a Child with another Child. They’d have to follow us all the way to the land. The Fortunate Captain’s goal is to keep us away and make land a scary myth. The fewer people who know about the land at all, the better. I’ll tell you what the Captain will do once he knows we’re missing.” He pointed at the audience. “He’ll abandon us.”

The crowd broke out in dozens of hushed conversations. Another voice rose above the noise. “But what about our families?”

Diggory’s response started off firm. “If we do this—” He hesitated, then turned to look Fishel in the eye. “If we do this, we’ll have to leave our families behind. Probably for good.”

As the crowd muttered on, Fishel met Diggory’s gaze. His brow furrowed, but there was no anger in his expression, only consideration. After a few tense seconds, he quietly asked, “And would you, Diggory? Would you leave and let your parents think you dead?”

The question gave him pause. Diggory turned his eye to the floor, where he saw Cleio standing next to Gemma. His sister held her hands clasped before her chest and her eyes spoke of fear. She gave no sign as to whether that fear was aimed at him leaving or not. Gemma had an arm around her shoulder, but the anxiety had left her face. No, she bore a small smile, and her eyes were alight with determination. There could be no questioning what she wanted to do.

Diggory closed his eyes and thought about how he’d felt when he’d first seen the land. The wonder, the astonishment, the curiosity. A feeling of something new and unknown and ambitious. He compared this to the feeling he had while staring at the empty horizon, or into the black corner of his cabin’s cold storage, or even just the dull ceiling above his bed.

And what did his parents ever want for him?

More empty horizons.

More cramped metal corridors.

He straightened his shoulder and looked up at Fishel, his voice firm as he gave his answer. “I would.”

Fishel stared back for a few seconds, gaze studious. Then, he cracked a smile and slapped Diggory’s shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “You’re a stronger fellow than I thought, Mr. Caito.” The smile faded. He glanced at the crowd and whispered, “I like it. Best idea by far. But you think we can convince them?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’m more worried about them running straight to the Captain’s Council.”

A predatory smile came upon Fishel’s face. “You let me worry about that.”

---

Three days later, a cold wind blew through the massive hatch. Some six dozen people were busy loading the last of the supplies into a Fortune’s Child. Diggory stood off to the side, giving his sister a tight hug.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Diggy?” She asked through her tears.

He sniffed and nodded into her brown hair. “Cleio, I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She sighed and stepped back, rubbing her eyes as she did. “Momma and Poppa are going to take it poorly. What am I gonna tell them?”

“Don’t tell them anything.” He tried to keep his voice firm, but it still shook. “You know nothing about this. The Captain’s gonna be looking for heads to roll. Don’t let yours be one of them.”

“But… I…” She clasped her hands rightly together. “This is too big. How am I supposed to say nothing?”

“Then wait,” he replied, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Give it a few months, maybe a couple years. Tell them later, when things have calmed down. You can wait that long, right?”

She pursed her lips as she considered this, then gave a tentative nod. “I guess.”

He glanced back to the boat. The last of the supplies had been stored. Gemma was waving to him from the deck. “I’ve gotta go. You’ll be a good girl for Mom and Dad, won’t you?”

Cleio nodded once more. “I get why you’ve gotta go, I really do. J-just don’t die out there, okay?”

He kissed her forehead. “I promise. Now you go home and look after Mom and Dad. And when you do finally tell them about us… let them know I love them. That this isn’t their fault. Can you do that for me?”

She clutched his hand in hers. “I… yeah. I can do that.”

Fishel’s voice rose over the howling wind. “Hey, Caito! Enough with the sappy goodbyes! We’ve got to go!”

Diggory pulled his hand free and gave her one last, swift hug. “Love you, sis. More than you know.” He turned and ran for the access ramp, waving behind him.

“Love you too, you stupid dork!”

Fighting to keep the tears out of his eyes, he stepped onto the deck. Fishel shot a disappointed frown over Diggory’s shoulder. “Couldn’t get her to come? Pity.”

Gemma leaned forward, her fingers brushing Diggory’s shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”

“Y-yeah. Let’s do this.” With one last wipe of his eyes, he nodded and followed the two of them into the captain’s cabin. As he sat in the steel navigator's chair and buckled himself in, he looked out the forward windows. The empty horizon of ocean and sky filled his vision.

Fishel pressed a button on the radio. “This is Captain Medina. All crew, report back. Ready for launch?”

Tension built in Diggory as he continued staring at the nothingness beyond. Somewhere out there, he’d find more. Somewhere out there, he’d have a future.

“All crews confirmed ready for launch,” Fishel declared once the last report came in. He waited a moment, as if to contemplate just what they were doing. Then he looked to Gemma. “Launch.”

With a trembling hand, she reached to an innocuous black switch. Her fingers trembled over it for five seconds. Ten.

Her words came as but a whisper. “Though we leave her sheltering embrace, may Fortune smile on us still.” She flipped the switch, and the ship began to lower towards the fathomless sea.

It was then Diggory realized he was grinning.