The vehicle journeyed through the plains—a lone specter gliding over the alien seascape. The mound of a building loomed ever closer on the sonar feed.

Dea watched a fish propped up like a tripod, its three spindly fins shining silver in the headlights. This place is flipping insane. Even the fish are insane. She suddenly shivered when she realized only six inches of acrylic glass separated her from death.

"What's this cauldron thingy you speak of?" she asked, her voice a mere swish of a seagrass blade.

Muda didn't reply. She flicked a switch and amped up the lights. Dea's breath escaped her in a whoosh.

The strangest scene materialized ahead. A pool of light expanded from the vehicle and laid bare the hidden wonder in all its glory.

It was a lake.

"How?" Dea managed to croak, drinking in the impossible sight.

"This is a brine lake," Muda said. "You surface-dwellers should learn more about these waters."

As they drew nearer, the colossal oceanmark extended beyond visibility. Mussels crusted its shoreline like a bejeweled ring, glinting under sparks of bioluminescence from tiny critters. Mist curled over its glassy black surface and spilled out in tendrils of smoke. The Witch's Cauldron!

The vehicle crossed the shore. Mollusk shells popped up in full clarity under the blast of a thousand lumens. Dea's heart flipped when she spied dead creatures—corpses forming a macabre rim around the abyssal pool.

When they sailed over the dense, black liquid, she sensed something wicked about its haunting depths. Sure enough, they came upon the levitating apparition of an eel, half submerged from view. She watched it contort in painful spasms as if it was hexed. She shivered again.

"The brine is lethal," Muda explained, observing her reaction. "Unless you're a hagfish."

They ventured inexorably closer to the far bank, where their destination stood. Ugly, grey hagfish did indeed dip into the lake, unaffected by its toxicity. Waves spread out from the disturbance.

When they reached the building, nothing but a faint glow betrayed its existence. Muda expertly guided the submersible to an airlock. Dea slumped back against the seat, trying to rein in the anxiety that roiled within. As they depressurized, even the quietest of vibrations grated on her nerves.

The hangar that welcomed them was not much different from the very first one she encountered.

"Well, we're here," Muda stated, making her jump. "Don't bother echolocating. The think room is soundproofed to prevent spying. We've been renovating this place ever since we moved in."

Dea fidgeted, trying to compose her sheepish face. The burly merwoman opened the hatch and hopped out with a splash.

A draught of frigid air ushered Dea out. The gloomy space appeared deserted but for the entropy of cables, pipes and scaffolding. A beam extended parallel to the vehicle's hatch—so wide it was akin to a platform.

"If you're done gawking, we can get a move on," Muda grunted, her hand resting leisurely on the gun holster by her hip.

"I'm coming!" Dea hurriedly slid into the pool.

Thankfully, the water was clean, with a hint of chlorine. Within minutes, Muda led her down a corridor to an old-fashioned conveyor belt. When they ascended to the upper level, its gears creaked in protest. They finally approached a door which appeared less industrial. Maybe it was an office when this operated as a warehouse complex.

"I'll be waiting out here," the merwoman said, sliding the door open. "You can enter."

Dea forced a smile. "Oh, okay..."

She balled her fists in an effort to muster up her courage and splashed through.

Muted LEDs bathed the interior in a dim glow, bringing out the blue of the water. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, what struck her immediately was the circular window, through which bursts of bioluminescence revealed a vista of the lake.

"Like the view?" a low, masculine voice inquired.

Dea whirled to face the source.

The shadowed occupant of the room sat behind a curving island, stacked with an array of devices. An opaque water barrier circled around the workstation.

"You're...a guy?" Dea blurted out, trying to reconcile what she was seeing with the image lodged in her brain.

He surveyed her, fingers twirling a hand gripper with surprising dexterity. Sharp eyes glinted like obsidian, reflecting the computer screen in front of him. Everything from his hair to his fitted shirt was so dark, he might as well have crawled out of the brine lake.

"Is it surprising?" he asked in his brisk, flat tone—Dea couldn't decide whether it was bored or alert.

She held onto a beam that jutted out of the pool and stared a bit more, mouth slightly ajar.

Black hair fell over his brow in puffy curls, and stubble dusted his caramel brown skin. His torso, just visible above the table, was all sinewy muscle—relaxed into a posture at odds with the alertness in his eyes. He's young too. Early twenties?

She recovered enough to say, "I'm sorry—yeah, I expected the Sea Witch to be a woman."

"It's just a code name," he replied with a tinge of amusement and diverted his attention to the screen. "Anyways, I hear you're interested in our land gear."

"I—yeah, that's what I'm here for."

He waved a distracted hand as brusque as his speech. "Sit."

Dea observed the stained watercouch near the window. "Oh, no, thanks. I'm cool."

He flicked a glance her way. She just leaned against the beam and crossed her arms while her tail flukes swayed to keep her afloat. She couldn't help musing on his bizarre accent—in fact, it appeared more like a speech impediment.

"I don't usually have people in here," he said, low eyebrows pinching into a frown. "And I don't like being disturbed when I'm having some alone time. But...I had to make an exception."

"Yeah? Well, I'm happy you're eager to get on with this transaction."

"Actually, I wanted to see you for myself."

She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Swimming alone in the high seas, sneaking down into the deep in a rented sub—got some rock solid guts."

The unnatural quiet enfolded her like the darkness that pervaded the place.

"How—what do you mean by that?" She tried to steady her voice while her brain whirred. "Swimming alone in the—"

"Weren't you doing that on Monday? When the cyclone hit?"

Her heart skipped a beat. Total bewilderment rendered her speechless.

He shook his head, lips quirking up in a smirk. "The dolphins seem to have taken a liking to you."

"You—wait," Dea stammered, realization dawning, "that camera! You guys tagged the dolphin with it!"

"We like some eyes and ears on the surface."

Dea inhaled a lungful of air. "Anyways, now that you've seen me..."

"Not what I expected."

"I'm sorry?"

"A petite mermaid...Still in school?"

"I'm eighteen," she huffed. "I'm graduating this month!"

He surveyed her again, an idle hand flexing the gripper.

Is this a staring match? Bring it on. She leveled her gaze at him, lower lip jutting out in an air of insolence. Self-consciousness made her tug at her top, which encased her figure from neck to wrists in a mauve sheath spattered with polka dots. I probably stick out like a starfish in this den of his.

"Why do you want the gear?" he asked, the smirk more pronounced.

"I have my reasons."

"You can't share them?"

"No, I just have some business to attend to."

"Ah, of course. Can't miss the board meeting with your human colleagues."

Annoyance transformed her face into a scowl. "There's a human I want to meet. I rescued him that day."

He raised his eyebrows. "You're willing to risk everything to do that?"

"It's bigger than me," Dea said coolly. "Some of us feel it's time we connected with the humans. If the state won't do it, I'm using this opportunity to do it myself and lead the change."

In the ensuing silence, her earpiece picked up faint vibrations—that of the ventilation system and the sophisticated rig on his table. Well, you must be interested in that too. Why would you make land gear otherwise?

When he didn't respond, she dug a hand into her backpack and whipped out the print of the human's card, which she brought along just in case. He gestured with his finger.

She dived up to the water barrier and flicked the card in his direction—though it careened off the desired trajectory. He tilted sideways and caught it in one fluid motion. Then he took a long moment to scrutinize it, two long fingers holding it like pincers.

"You want to go meet this guy?" he asked, a note of incredulity entering his voice.

"Yeah, is there a problem?" she snapped.

She wanted to add that this wasn't any of his business, but held back at the last nanosecond. No point in antagonizing the dude when I need his help.

He sent the card spinning back to her—in a smoother arc. "No problem at all. Let's talk business then."

"About time," she muttered.

She wanted to whack him and wipe the smirk off his face, but just stowed away the card. When he made no response, she pivoted around, short hair flying in pink waves, and resumed her position by the beam.

"Mm, cherries," he murmured.

"What?"

"I'll have Muda show you our latest tech. You're looking to just borrow it for this excursion?"

"Um, yeah. Not like I can lug it back to the city afterwards."

"If you're satisfied with what we have, we can discuss the pricing and penalties," he said, his manner that of a refined merchant.

"Penalties?"

"Should you damage the gear or return it late."

Dea's eyes widened. "Oh, right. Well, I'd like to discuss those now."

"Very well." He leaned forward and placed the gripper on the tabletop, emitting a clack that faded into the soundproofing foam along the walls. "I'm thinking you'd like our newest model—as shiny as your DSV."

She tried to adopt a nonchalant facade. "Your price?"

"Thirty thousand ridis an hour."

It was as if a small iceberg settled in her throat. "What—that's a bit steep, don't you think?"

"That's my price."

She gulped while struggling to maintain her bored expression. Her mind jumped ahead to do the calculations. Getting the gear for just seven hours would deplete her entire stash of money—which was the equivalent of two years worth of living expenses. Taking into account journey time, it left her just over an hour to find the human. I should've learned the art of haggling from Gramma.

"And what about your older models?" she asked, pretending to examine her nails, painted black for the occasion.

"Twenty-seven thousand."

"That's hardly any less!"

He shrugged and steepled his hands, eyes never leaving her.

"I'm going for the newest," she said, head held high. "Seven hours."

"So you'll bring it back by evening?"

"Yep."

"Excellent." He smiled and reached for a panel next to a mic.

"Wait," Dea said, secretly marveling at the effect the smile had on his dark face. "What about the penalties?"

"Not confident about returning it on time?"

"Oh, I'm sure I can do that, but I'm just curious to know." She straightened up, arms still crossed. "I expect you'd want me to sign a contract, after all."

"Well, it's quite simple," he said, the easy smile still in place. "Every hour you delay, the overdue fine goes up by ten thousand ridis."

Her heart plummeted. That's absurd! You money-grubbing jerk!

"Any more questions?"

"What if...I happened to get really late, and it's a ridiculously high fine that I can't pay?"

A contemplative expression veiled his face. "Slavery, of course."

Her jaw fell open. "Huh?"

"Hm, that voice."

"What about my voice?"

"Great for our bots. Plus, more renovation work to do around this place," he said thoughtfully. "And I could do with a personal slave."

"You're serious?" she asked, shaking her head.

He shrugged again. "I'm afraid so."

A good minute stretched on as she stared at him in disbelief. Yep, this ugly monster crawled out of the brine pool alright.

"And don't think of taking off with it." He watched her as if he could read her mind. "That's not possible."

"Oh, yeah? How so?"

"You'll find out," he whispered.

She gulped the iceberg in her throat.

"You wouldn't want to be late for your mission." He tapped at an imaginary wristwatch. "Do we have a deal?"

"Fine." She glared at him. "Show me what you've got."

He reached a hand and touched the panel. "Muda?"

The winking light on his earpiece indicated he received an answer.

"Show our customer the latest prototype."

A clicking sound radiated out, concluding the brief exchange.

He turned back to her. "Dea, right?"

She started, her eyes tracking the bobble of his prominent larynx. It was strange to hear her name pronounced with that alien accent—in quiet bass notes that had a pleasing effect on her ears.

When she hesitated, he cocked his head to one side.

"Um, yeah, that's right," she murmured and added, "and what should I call you?"

"Anuk."

She blinked. He actually told me his name! Maybe it's a fake name. Sounds weird enough.

"Alright then, I'll take my leave," Dea said with a note of finality. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise."

She turned on her flukes and dived towards the exit.

Location: Brine pool

https://youtu.be/ZwuVpNYrKPY