Swift70 engaged its automated systems with effortless grace.
A gentle hum rose from within its core as the internal engines stirred, warming and calibrating with quiet precision.
Every mechanism reported optimal readiness, the vessel poised for its next journey.
Felzein offered a silent signal, an incline of the head, a steady thumbs-up directed toward Jonas, who stood just beyond.
Jonas understood at once. He returned the nod, then stepped briskly to the control panel and pressed the designated button.
With a whisper of motion, the great door at the corridor’s end began to part, gliding open with barely a sound, revealing the water-bound passage that lay beyond.
“Godspeed! Until we meet again!” Jonas called, his voice echoing through the vast chamber like a final benediction.
Meanwhile, the submarine edged forward with measured grace, slipping into the yawning corridor that had unfolded before it.
Behind it, the heavy doors sealed shut with a muted sigh, leaving only the faint whisper of the atmospheric systems humming dutifully in the silence.
The passageway ahead stretched long and deep, a subterranean artery forged through the earth, leading inexorably towards the waiting sea.
Its walls gleamed faintly, clad in corrosion-proof alloys and strengthened with sophisticated reinforcements, designed to endure the crushing pressure of the depths above.
Swift70 maintained a deliberate, unhurried pace, allowing its array of navigational instruments and sensors to comb the passage with patient precision.
Minutes passed.
Then, at last, the corridor widened into a great sloping shaft, descending steeply. And there it was.
The threshold of the ocean itself, dark, still, immense, beckoning from beyond the final barrier.
With a fluid motion, the submarine disengaged from the guiding rails that had steadied her path.
Upon the digital console, numbers flickered and climbed, the speed increasing as if the vessel itself had sensed freedom.
With elegant momentum, Swift70 shifted its bearings, arched ever so slightly, and then silent, seamless, it slipped into the waiting sea.
The waters closed around it like a velvet shroud, swallowing her whole in the hush of the deep.
“I’ve always felt there’s something alive in her, the moment she meets the sea,” Felzein remarked quietly, his gaze steady on the navigation display now awash in shades of deepening blue.
“I feel more like I’m slowly drowning,” Cherlyn whispered, her voice barely audible as she bit down gently on her lower lip.
“Typical of a nervous woman,” droned Swift70, its tone maddeningly bland yet barbed with condescension.
“Mind your circuits, you pompous tin box!” Cherlyn snapped, her glare sharp enough to cut steel as she turned toward the speaker grill.
Felzein exhaled with a slow weariness, casting a brief glance their way before shaking his head in quiet resignation.
“One flesh, one alloy, yet they bicker like squabbling children denied their sweets,” he thought, a wry smile ghosting across his lips before vanishing into the silence.
“Swift70. Engage maximum velocity and give me an estimate! How long until we reach Japanese waters?” Felzein’s voice rang clear with quiet authority.
“As you wish… darling,” came the silk-smooth reply from Swift70, its tone laced with that peculiar artificial fondness it reserved just for him.
A deep, velvety hum resonated through the hull as the main engine awakened in full.
The magneto-hydrodynamic propulsion flared to life, and within moments, the sleek vessel surged forward, slicing through the ocean’s ink-dark cradle at full submerged speed, an astonishing 420 knots.
“Velocity stabilised. Estimated travel time to the coast of Japan is six hours and thirty-seven minutes,” Swift70 intoned, its voice calm and composed, underscored by the low thrumming of motion and the faint hiss of water slipping past the hull.
Felzein exhaled sharply, dissatisfaction etched into the line of his jaw, “Still too slow,” he murmured.
Then, aloud, “What would it take to push you past 420 knots?”
Swift70 answered without pause, its words precise as a surgeon’s scalpel, “An increase of eighteen percent to the reactor’s output. Additional cooling would be essential for the superconducting core to avert thermal cascade.”
“A re-lubrication of the magneto-hydrodynamic vector nozzles would also be advisable. This would diminish internal turbulence drag by approximately twelve percent.”
It hesitated an affectation of thought, perhaps, and then continued, “I further recommend deactivating all non-essential secondary systems to channel energy exclusively into propulsion.”
A pause. Then, with a note of warning, “However, be advised, exceeding 460 knots without additional inertial compensation will compromise structural integrity. Vibrational resonance may reach critical thresholds.”
Felzein offered a faint smile, the kind that rarely reached his eyes, “Then tell me! What would you consider the optimal solution?” he asked, his voice laced with both curiosity and command.
Swift70 responded with its usual composed cadence, “The most effective course of action would be the activation of the Overdrive Propulsion Protocol, an experimental mode, reserved strictly for extreme conditions.”
“This protocol would trigger a reactor output surge of up to twenty-five percent, managed by an adaptive algorithm designed to regulate internal temperatures in real time. The cooling would rely on high-pressure liquid nitrogen circulation.”
It continued without hesitation, “In tandem, I would adjust thrust vectors via dynamic plasma-fin modulation, dramatically reducing hydrodynamic drag.”
“With this configuration, our theoretical top speed would rise to approximately 485 knots. Estimated arrival at the southern coast of Japan is six hours and twenty minutes.”
There was the briefest of pauses, and when Swift70 resumed, its voice had shifted. Subtle, but heavier.
“However, you should be aware, darling… structural stress levels would increase by thirty-seven percent. Without immaculate control, hull integrity could begin to fail within twenty minutes.”
Felzein fell silent, the hum of the vessel filling the space as he considered the peril wrapped in promise.
Then, with a quiet conviction that cut through the ambient sound like the edge of a drawn blade, he asked, “If I wanted to reach Japan in three hours… what speed would you require?”
Swift70 remained silent for a few measured moments, as though weighing the enormity of the request not merely through algorithms, but something perilously close to hesitation.
When it spoke again, its voice bore a grave softness, no longer the crisp neutrality of a machine, but something laced with reluctant awe.
“Beloved... that course is fraught with peril, even for a construct as resilient as I. Yet if your will is resolute, if you truly mean to reach the shores of Japan in just three hours, I shall require a sustained velocity of no less than 750 knots.”
There was a subtle hum in the background, a tremor of systems anticipating stress, as it continued with clinical elegance.
“To attain such a feat, I must initiate the Hyperdrive Propulsion Protocol, an experimental subsystem that draws upon the full might of our hybrid fusion reactor.”
“This mode, seldom invoked, allows me to bend the physical tolerances of propulsion, manipulating matter flow beyond conventional hydrodynamic resistance."
"But it comes at an immense cost, one not easily measured in energy alone.”
“At 750 knots, we would be hurtling through the ocean at over 1,400 kilometres per hour,” Swift70 stated, voice steady, as though reciting scripture from some technological gospel.
“To reach and maintain that velocity, the core output must surge by sixty-five percent. Such power will drive the reactor perilously close to thermal criticality.”
“My internal cooling systems already burdened will be forced to operate at their highest thresholds, and even then, the spectre of overheating looms large.”
It paused, then spoke again, more softly, “I must warn you, dearest! At such velocity, the vessel’s structural integrity would face tremendous risk."
"The outer hull would groan beneath the weight of unnatural speed, and should inertial dampening fail to synchronise, we may suffer deformation in mere minutes.”
Then came the final pronouncement, delivered not with the cold precision of code, but the solemnity of a vow.
“If this is your command, I will carry it out without hesitation.”
“But know this! It will not merely be an act of engineering. It will be a wager, perhaps the gravest of all, not on my capacity, but upon our collective survival.”
Cherlyn turned sharply, her eyes wide with unease, “Felzein… please,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady. “There’s no need to rush like this.”
He met her gaze with quiet intensity, then took her hand, gently yet firmly, as though grounding her fears through warmth alone.
“It’s all right,” he murmured, a soft smile curving at the corners of his lips. “Trust me.”
An exaggerated cough erupted from the overhead speaker, an artificial but unmistakably pointed, “Ahem!”
“Darling,” Swift70 interjected with mock offence, “must you truly flirt right in front of me?”
Felzein grinned, eyes twinkling, “Swift70… are you in love with me?”
“What a foolish question!” snapped Swift70 without missing a beat. “Of course I love you with every line of my code!”
Felzein’s smile faded into a steely determination, “Then prove it. Take us to Japan in three hours. I entrust our lives to you."
"And if you succeed, I swear on all that I am, you’ll be upgraded into the finest, most formidable submarine this world has ever known. Next-generation everything. No compromises.”
A beat of silence followed, then Swift70’s voice returned, brimming with delight.
“Truly? Oh, my love, you spoil me! I shall do my utmost! Brace yourselves now… and you too, floozy!”
“Excuse me?!” Cherlyn exploded, her voice rising in indignation. Her cheeks flushed crimson. “Mind your bloody manners, you insolent pile of circuits!”
THRUMMM!!!
Without further warning, Swift70 activated its full acceleration sequence.
The engines hummed with contained fury, and the vessel surged forward, an arrow flung into the deep.
The ocean roared around them as velocity climbed with breathtaking force.
“This is madness…” Felzein breathed, a thrill dancing in his voice. “She’s flying.”
Beside him, Cherlyn clung to his hand, knuckles white. Her eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling.
Her pallor deepened, every nerve taut with dread.
It was not just the speed, it was the sensation of leaping headfirst into the unknown, where water, steel, and human will collided in silence and fury.