Deadlight
1932. A steel bell on half a mile of cable, one lamp, one porthole - and the porthole is the reels. Every dead spin pays out another fathom and the window closes in; every win hauls you up. At eight fathoms the lamp fails and the sonar reads the reels. Three helmets open the Drowned Deck, free spins counted in breaths; three eyes wake the Leviathan, which takes the reels and does not let go. Mags is on the line from the surface. Something answers in her voice from below.