The hull of the Sea Rider came together in a matter of weeks. The main hold up was the amount of metal that needed to be traded for and brought to the shipyard. Spacing had been laid out for crew resting areas, a galley, the engine room at the back of the ship, and a separate deck for the pilot.

Venting had been installed. The air scrubbers seemed to work fine, but the machinists had put together tanks of air in case there were problems. No one wanted to suffocate while at the bottom of the ocean.

Control wires had been laid from the engine room, and its engines to every other piece of equipment on the boat. Arnold and Zachariah had made sure that they were in piping that could be taken apart and fixed in a moment’s notice. Extra pieces of metal skin went over where the junction boxes were mounted for better protection from hazards in the sea.

The piloting controls took a little more work, but they didn’t have to build a rudder, or flaps. Instead, the boat would power a change of course with the jets that would push on the water. A throttle and steering stick had to be installed and tested so they shouldn’t give out while the boat was under the water.

They didn’t mean they wouldn’t.

Zachariah and his small team of specialists went over everything in the pilot’s

compartment, checking with Octo about what he thought should be included, and what he was comfortable using. Rotating numbers to show depth from the surface, distance from the yard, speed of travel, and a map of surface features were included.

“It’s going to take some getting used to before a pilot will be ready to operate this,” said Octo. “Also we should have thought about a secondary gunner seat so someone else can shoot while the pilot tries to get the boat out of danger.”

“We can ask for another bubble,” said Zachariah. “We can put it behind the pilot space.”

“It needs to go forward, Zachariah,” said Octo. He pointed at the nose. “He’ll need to be able to see anything he’s shooting at from his compartment. Maybe give him heavier glass and shutters to prevent problems.”

“Fixed, or turreted?,” asked Zachariah.

“A turret would allow more movement control,” said Octo. “I don’t know if anyone here would be able to handle it in combat.”

“I’ll think of something,” said Zachariah. He went away, waving at his crews to

gather around him.

The group exchanged questions, made notes. Octo hoped he hadn’t caused for the design to be scraped. He just wanted another set of eyes on things while under the water.

And someone shooting while they were turning away might be useful.

Lobster Bay did have planes that had gunners. They were reserves in case the flight ran into something accompanying the main target. The pilot would direct the plane’s nose guns against whatever the plane was pointed at while the gunner would use a turret to fire at anything coming from behind and the sides.

Part of the plane would still be uncovered, but that was better than leaving most of it open for attacks that would wreck the aircraft because the pilot couldn’t run through his ammunition fast enough while dogfighting.

“All right,” said Zachariah, returning to the top of the boat. He rubbed his hands slightly. “I talked to the others. We think we have a solution to the problem.”

“So what are you guys going to do?,” said Octo. “I can still fly and fight this thing from the cockpit in case we run into trouble.”

“We are going to place a bubble in the nose,” said Zachariah. “Then we’re going to fit a set of cutters and Mark Twos and hook them together. When one shoots at something, they all will unless they are jammed by something. Shutters will be fitted so the gunner will only have to worry if the bubble is damaged somehow.”

“Two turrets?,” asked Octo.

“Something for the future,” said Zachariah. “We just need something to keep the boat from being completely defenseless. We’re going to have to make sure the gunner has access to the Mark Two reloading area, and refit the nose to hold the drums in reserve.”

“All right,” said Octo. He looked around at the sub being together around him. “I would like another gunner, but the boat won’t be big enough for that.”

“I’ll include the recommendation in with the design notes,” said Zachariah. “Benz already has everything we’ve done recorded for Lobster Bay. I think he already has his own ideas that he wants to use for them.”

“He might want to make a ship able to control the waters around Lobster Bay,” said Octo. “He might even think about trying to control areas south of there. That would entail breaking ties with every other city state, and causing a bitter fight.”

“I’m sure he will have better things to do with his time trying to put the flying

machines we are going to show him how to build in the air,” said Zachariah. “I doubt the local machinists will allow such a thing without a fight.”

“We’ve been lucky nothing like a Baldwin has been produced by the maniacs,” said Octo. “That would change everything.”

“Do you think so?,” asked Zachariah.

“Yes,” said Octo. “Baldwin Green Lights change reality. Imagine someone with the morals of a Shae being able to do that at will, and I am not talking about the rabbit either.”

“I’m sure they are a reasonable people, but I doubt they have a use for what I make,” said Zachariah.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” said Octo. “If anyone could sell the Shae a tool they might not need, it would be you.”

“I doubt that,” said Zachariah. “I’m going to need you to make sure the gauges are accurate while the others are linking the wiring from here to the gunner pod. We’ll have to give him a mark to aim with while underwater.”

“If the bubble can turn, that might be helpful,” said Octo. “That’ll give the gunner a better angle of fire.”

“I’ll talk to Nick,” said Zachariah. “Keep an eye on things. If anything looks like it’s reaching a boiling point at the other end of the numbers, bail out. You’re our only experienced pilot.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” said Octo. “I know when to eject.”

“All right,” said the machinist. “Let’s see how fast we can make this alteration.”

Zachariah and his crews went over the new design. Another bubble proved easy to put in with the practice they already had with the pilot’s. Nick’s gang fitted the cutters in place as twins mounted next to each other. They installed a Mark Two between the light emitters. Then a crew placed a stick to turn the weapons and fire. A spinning compass would give the gunner the degree from the nose where his target should be. An ammunition counter went on the pipe that would feed the Mark Two its shells.

If the bubble was damaged, the gunner just had to pull a lever to dump him in a foyer built into the nose for his chair. Shutters would close to shut off any leaks to the ocean.

That assumed the gunner wasn’t killed outright by whatever could hurt the glass and steel of the bubble in the first place.

Zachariah knew there were things in the ocean that could crack his creation and kill everyone onboard. He didn’t want to worry about that, but it filled a small desk drawer in the back of his mind. He wanted whomever used the design to be as safe as if they were at home behind fortified walls.

Those places were also smashed flat by chance and bad timing.

He went over every inch of things as the crews fitted the top half together. Test runs on the pilot’s bubble went well. The gunnery bubble worked good enough to try to use in the water. Air masks were added to equipment chests in specific places. If there was a breach, then the crew could pull the masks on and be able to work underwater for five hours.

He hoped the crew wouldn’t have to use the untested devices, but felt it was better to have some kind of hope of escape from a vessel sinking to the bottom. Five hours could be as good as five days to some of the daemons he had observed in action.

“Everything looks okay, Zach,” said Carson. “We’ll be able to test run it in the harbor tomorrow.”

“I’m going to have to go down with it,” said Zachariah. “I want five volunteers other than you to go with me.”

“I don’t get to go on the maiden voyage?,” said Carson. “I don’t like that at all.

You’re the one that needs to sit this out.”

“Can’t,” said Zachariah. “And I don’t want to risk Bolan, or you, on this. You two are the only ones that know everything about the design. If something happens, you are the only ones who can complete the contract. And Gold Bug has to look at things in case we need to make other things in front of sudden problems.”

“I think you’re trying to keep me from going because I’m better looking than you,” said Carson.

“If something happens, it’s better that it happens to me,” said Zachariah. “I wouldn’t know how to explain to your wife and children about how I let you die. You won’t have to worry about that on my side of things.”

“I wouldn’t know how to talk to Sola about this,” said Carson.

“And you don’t have to,” said Zachariah. “She already knows the risk, and

understands I am counting on her to stay here while I make sure the boat is safe for everyone to use.”

“So we drop the thing in the water,” said Carson. “Then what?”

“We make sure that it will float, and that it will sink on command,” said Zachariah. “And we hope that nothing goes wrong.”

“You’re not asking for much,” said Carson.

“We’ll try the test run in the clear part of the harbor in case something goes wrong and we need to be dredged up,” said Zachariah. “We should let people with sea daemons know we’ll need them to lift the weight. If everything goes to plan, we’ll try to find the egg and destroy it on the next run.”

“How do we get it to Lobster Bay?,” asked Carson.

“We’ll sail it around the continent,” said Zachariah. “That should be a good test for her.”

“We’ll need a ton of provisions for something like that,” said Carson.

“And more crew,” said Zachariah. “That’s why I designed crew quarters for more than five people, and a galley. Don’t worry. We can do it.”

“No one has ever done that,” said Carson. “We could be even more famous than what we are now.”

“You will,” said Zachariah. “I plan to build the flying fortress as agreed, then start working on my star boat.”

“You can’t do that,” said Carson.

“Festus says I can,” said Zachariah. “Once I have what I need, the shipyard will belong to you.”

“I can’t do what you do,” said Carson. He gestured at the boat in its cradle.

“You’re better than me,” said the machinist. He smiled. “None of this would be

possible without you. And that’s why I know you’re the best man for this. All I do is dream. You deal in reality, making things, and making things better.”

“You are still full of it,” said Carson.