The invitation was written in grease on the wall of the Core Chamber.

BOSS. DOCK. NOW. BRING A TOWEL.

Reed sighed, grabbed a towel, and headed for Floor 2.

The Slime Springs were steamy as usual. Luma was lounging on a rock in her solid form, singing a soft melody that kept the water rippling in rhythmic patterns. Seraphine was coiled on her heated island, dozing.

But the noise came from the far end of the pool.

CLANK. WHIRR. HISSSS.

Reed walked along the walkway to the "dry dock"—a ledge Grika had claimed for heavy industry.

And there it was.

It looked like a wine barrel had mated with a torpedo and then been beaten with a hammer until it stopped fighting back. It was made of rusted iron plates, reinforced wood, and what looked like glass jars for portholes. It had a propeller on the back that was comically large, and a painted shark face on the front that looked more deranged than scary.

Grika stood in front of it. She was wearing her Sapper's Straps, glistening with oil and pride.

"Behold," she declared, throwing her arms wide. "The G.S.S. Deep-Throat."

Reed choked on his own spit.

"The what?"

"The Goblin Submersible System," Grika explained innocent—or perhaps not so innocently. "Deep-Throat. Because it goes deep. Into the throat of the dungeon. Obviously."

She patted the hull. It rang hollowly.

"It's a stealth patrol vehicle, Boss. We can lurk at the bottom of the lake. Adventurers swim in, think it's safe, and BAM! We shoot them in the ankles with harpoons."

"It looks… heavy," Reed noted. "And rusty."

"It's ballast," Grika dismissed. "And it's airtight. Mostly. Maira helped me seal the seams with demon-wax. It's solid."

She popped the hatch on the top. It hissed.

"Get in," she ordered.

"Me?" Reed pointed at himself. "That thing is the size of a coffin."

"It's a two-seater," Grika said. "Pilot and Gunner. I need a Gunner. Unless you want me to ask Seraphine? She'd clog the intake valves."

Seraphine opened one eye from across the lake. "I heard that, gremlin."

"Come on, Boss," Grika teased, leaning against the hull in a way that highlighted the dangerous curve of her hip. "Don't you trust me? I'm an engineer. I know my fluids."

She climbed up the side, her rubber straps squeaking against the metal. She straddled the hatch, looking down at him.

"Are you coming deep with me or not?"

Reed looked at the death trap. He looked at the goblin.

"Fine," he sighed. "But if I drown, I'm haunting you."

The Cockpit

"Two-seater" was a generous description. "Tuna can" was more accurate.

Grika dropped into the pilot's seat—a bucket bolted to the floor. Reed squeezed in behind her. There was no seat for him.

"You're the Gunner," Grika said, pulling a lever. "Gunner sits on the Ammo Box."

Reed sat on the metal crate. His knees were pressed against Grika's back. The space was incredibly tight. It smelled of engine grease, ozone, and Grika's distinct, musky scent.

"Close the hatch!" Grika yelled over the sound of the engine firing up.

Reed reached up and pulled the heavy iron lid shut. CLANG.

Darkness swallowed them, save for the eerie green glow of the control panel (which was just mana crystals taped to the wall).

The engine roared. It wasn't a hum. It was a vibration that rattled Reed's teeth.

"Firing main thrusters!" Grika shouted.

The sub lurched. Then it tipped forward.

SPLASH.

They hit the water.

Reed braced himself for the leaks. He waited for the cold rush of water.

It didn't come.

Instead, the viewports turned bubbling blue, then dark green as they sank.

"We're… doing it," Reed whispered. "We're underwater."

"Told you!" Grika laughed, grabbing the control sticks. "She's a beauty! Look at her handle!"

She yanked the stick left. The sub banked hard.

Reed was thrown sideways. In the cramped space, "sideways" meant "directly onto Grika."

He slammed into her back. His arms instinctively went around her waist to steady himself.

"Whoa there, Gunner," Grika purred, not pulling away. "Handsy already? At least buy me a drink first."

"It's the G-force!" Reed protested, though he didn't let go. The vibration of the engine was transferring through the metal seat and through Grika's body, making the contact… intense.

"Sure it is," Grika smirked. She pushed the throttle forward. "Let's see what she can do at max speed."

The engine screamed. The sub shot forward.

They zipped past a school of cave fish. They did a barrel roll (which was a terrible idea in a barrel).

"This is amazing!" Grika yelled. "We own the deep!"

She slowed down, hovering near the bottom of the lake. The water here was dark, illuminated only by their headlamps.

"Stealth mode," Grika whispered. "Engine idle."

The roar died down to a low, rhythmic thrum. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

In the sudden quiet, the intimacy of the space hit Reed like a truck.

He was pressed against Grika's back. Her skin was hot and slick with sweat (or oil). The rubber straps of her bikini dug into his arms. He could feel her breathing.

She turned in her seat to look at him. In the green light, her eyes were predatory.

"So, Boss," she whispered. "Here we are. Alone. Deep. Dark."

She leaned back, pressing her head against his chest.

"Vibrating," she added, as the engine gave a particularly violent shudder.

"Grika," Reed warned, though his voice was a little breathless. "We are testing the perimeter."

"We're testing something," she grinned. She shifted her hips, rubbing against his legs. "You know, submarines get very hot. The engine… radiates."

She wasn't lying. The temperature in the tiny capsule was rising rapidly. The air was thick and heavy.

"You're sweating," Grika noted, reaching up to trace a line of sweat down his jaw with a greasy finger. "Nervous?"

"Claustrophobic," Reed lied.

"I like tight spaces," Grika murmured. "Snug fits. Maximum pressure."

She turned fully in her seat—which involved some impressive gymnastics—so she was straddling the console, facing him. Her knees bracketed his thighs.

"You trust my engineering, Reed?" she asked, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.

"Mostly."

"Good." She leaned forward, grabbing the lapels of his coat. "Because I built this thing to withstand a lot of pounding."

She kissed him.

It tasted like copper and trouble. It was aggressive, demanding, and hot.

Reed kissed back. He couldn't help it. The vibration, the heat, the goblin—it was a sensory overload.

CREAAAAK.

The sound was loud. It came from above their heads.

Grika pulled back. "What was that?"

HISSSSSS.

A fine mist of high-pressure water sprayed into the cabin from a seam in the hatch.

"Leak!" Reed yelled.

"Seal failure!" Grika cursed, spinning back to the controls. "Maira's wax melted! It couldn't take the heat!"

"The heat of the engine?" Reed asked.

"The heat of the moment!" Grika shouted, slamming levers. "Emergency surface!"

She hit the ballast blow.

Nothing happened.

"Jam!" Grika kicked the panel. "The release valve is jammed!"

The spray turned into a stream. Water began to fill the floor. Cold, muddy water swirling around their ankles.

"We're sinking!" Reed realized.

"Not on my watch!" Grika grabbed a wrench from her belt. "I'm gonna percussive-maintenance this piece of junk!"

She started banging on the dashboard. CLANG. CLANG.

The water rose to their knees.

"Boss," Grika said, her voice surprisingly calm. "If we drown… I want you to know…"

"Yeah?"

"You're the best ride I've ever had."

"Grika!"

Suddenly, the sub jerked.

It stopped sinking. It started rising. Fast.

"What the—" Grika looked out the porthole.

Through the glass, a massive, white-and-blue shape was visible.

Luma.

She was in [High Slime] form, magnified by the water. She had wrapped her entire body around the submarine.

"Gotcha!" her muffled voice vibrated through the hull.

She hauled them up like a toy.

The sub breached the surface with a massive splash. Luma tossed it onto the shore like a pebble.

CRUNCH.

It landed on the stone dock. The hatch popped open.

Reed scrambled out, gasping for air, soaking wet. Grika tumbled out after him, coughing.

They lay on the stone, panting.

Maira was standing over them. She was holding a towel and looking extremely disappointed.

"The Deep-Throat appears to have gagged," Maira noted dryly.

"It was a prototype!" Grika wheezed, sitting up and wringing out her hair. "Thermal stress failure!"

"You were making out, weren't you?" Maira asked.

Grika grinned, water dripping from her nose. "Maybe."

Seraphine slithered over, looking at the wrecked sub.

"It looks like a crushed tin can," the lamia sniffed. "Inferior engineering. A tail never leaks."

Luma bounced onto the dock, returning to her normal size. She was glowing with pride.

"I saved you!" she cheered. "I hugged the boat!"

Reed sat up, wiping grease and water from his face. He looked at Grika. She was a mess, covered in oil, wet, shivering, and smiling like a maniac.

"We almost died," Reed said.

"But we felt alive!" Grika punched his arm. "Admit it, Boss. The vibration? The danger? It was hot."

Reed looked at the smoking ruin of the submarine. He remembered the heat in the cockpit.

"Yeah," he admitted, smiling despite himself. "It was hot."

[QUEST FAILED: STEALTH PATROL] Reason: Vehicle Integrity Compromised by Horny Goblins.

Consolation Prize: +15 Bond with Grika.

New Title: [Sub-Commander].

"Next time," Grika promised, standing up and kicking the sub, "I'm building it bigger. With a bed. And better seals."

"Next time," Maira interrupted, handing Reed a towel, "you are building a raft. A simple, flat raft. No enclosed spaces."

"Boring," Grika muttered.

Reed dried his face. He looked at his chaotic family.

"Let's stick to the shallows for a bit," he suggested.

Grika winked.

"Whatever you say, Sub-Commander."

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