The second day brought clearer skies and Steve's complete adaptation to their supernatural method of travel. His stomach had finally settled, and he was able to appreciate the incredible sight of whales and dolphins working in perfect coordination to propel their vessel through the water.
"It's actually beautiful," he admitted to Diana as they watched the escort of sea creatures moving in formation around them. "Terrifying and impossible, but beautiful."
"Most divine things are," Diana replied. "Beauty and terror often walk hand in hand when dealing with forces beyond mortal understanding."
"Is that what this is?" Steve asked. "Divine intervention?"
"Perhaps," Diana said thoughtfully. "Or perhaps it's simply what happens when the right people find each other at the right time." She looked at him meaningfully. "Your mission led you to Themyscira. That led us to Orion. Now we're racing toward London with intelligence that could change the course of the war. If that's not the gods guiding events, it's a remarkable series of coincidences."
"I've never been much for religion," Steve admitted. "Always figured if there was a God, He had bigger things to worry about than one pilot from Brooklyn."
"Perhaps He does," Diana said with a small smile. "But perhaps He also knows that sometimes the fate of everything depends on one pilot from Brooklyn doing exactly what he was meant to do."
Before Steve could respond to this unsettling notion, Orion called from the stern. "We're approaching the Channel ahead of schedule. Captain Trevor, where exactly do you need to be delivered?"
Steve moved to join the prince, pulling out his waterproof map case. "London's about sixty miles inland. We'll need to get as close as possible, maybe up the Thames estuary."
"The Thames should be manageable," Orion said, studying the maps.
Steve cleared his throat, looking between his three companions. "Once we reach the Thames, we're going to need to change how we operate. The whales and dolphins will have to stay behind, and we'll need to sail normally. Hopefully, we'll be escorted to shore by the Royal Navy instead of being blown out of the water as enemy spies."
"Why would they attack us?" Diana asked.
"Because we're an unidentified vessel approaching the capital during wartime," Steve explained. "British waters are heavily patrolled, and they shoot first and ask questions later when it comes to potential threats."
Orion nodded understanding. "We will release our escort before entering your territorial waters. The creatures of the deep prefer to avoid human contact anyway."
"Good," Steve said, then took a deeper breath. "But there's something else we need to discuss. Once we reach London, we're going to need to get you all some different clothes."
Diana, Mala, and Orion all looked at him with identical expressions of confusion.
"Why?" Diana asked. "What's wrong with our attire?"
Steve gestured at their flowing robes, ancient armor, and distinctly non-twentieth-century appearance. "You're going to stand out like a sore thumb. Diana, that outfit looks like something from a museum exhibit. Mala, your armor screams 'ancient warrior woman.' And Orion..." He paused, taking in the prince's flowing, metallic garments. "You look like Neptune's personal envoy."
"I am Neptune's personal envoy," Orion pointed out.
"Exactly my point," Steve said. "We need you all to blend in. Modern clothes, contemporary styling. Think of it as... camouflage."
"Camouflage," Mala repeated skeptically. "You want us to disguise ourselves as ordinary mortals?"
"Yes," Steve said emphatically. "Because if you walk through London looking like you stepped out of ancient Greece and Atlantis respectively, we're going to have crowds following us, reporters asking questions, and government officials wanting to study you instead of listening to our intelligence."
Diana considered this. "I suppose that makes sense from a tactical standpoint."
"There's something else," Steve continued, looking specifically at Diana and Mala. "In London, you two need to stay close to me and Orion at all times. Don't wander off alone."
"Why?" Mala asked, her hand instinctively moving to her sword hilt. "Do you expect us to encounter enemies?"
"Not enemies exactly," Steve said carefully. "But... well, in many parts of the world, women traveling alone can attract unwanted attention from men with less than honorable intentions."
Diana's eyebrows rose. "You're saying men might attempt to accost us?"
"It's possible," Steve admitted. "London's not as dangerous as some places, but..."
"Any man who dared to touch me without permission would find himself missing his head," Mala said matter-of-factly.
"And I would gladly assist her," Diana added with equal calm.
Steve felt his blood pressure spike. "Please don't do that."
"Don't do what?" Diana asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Don't cut anyone's head off," Steve said urgently. "I know it seems like a reasonable response to you, but the law here states that you can't just go around killing people, even if they're being inappropriate."
"Even if they deserve it?" Mala asked.
"Even if they deserve it," Steve confirmed. "There are courts, judges, proper legal procedures. You can't just execute someone for being a lecher."
Diana and Mala exchanged glances that suggested they found this concept deeply flawed.
"Your laws are strange," Diana observed.
"Maybe, but they're the laws we have to work within," Steve said. "Promise me you won't kill anyone unless our lives are actually in danger."
"I suppose I can restrain myself," Diana said reluctantly.
"If I must," Mala agreed with obvious disappointment.
Steve turned to Orion, who had been watching this exchange with amusement. "And you're going to need to do something about that pitchfork."
Orion's expression shifted from amusement to outrage. "Pitchfork?" he repeated, his voice dangerous. "This is the Trident of the Ocean Master, passed down through forty generations of my bloodline. It has been blessed by Poseidon himself and carries the authority of all the ocean realms."
"Which is exactly why you can't carry it around London," Steve said patiently. "People will think you're either insane or planning to start a revolution with farm equipment."
"I will not be separated from the symbol of my office," Orion declared firmly. "The Trident goes where I go."
"It's three times taller than you are," Steve pointed out. "How exactly do you plan to be inconspicuous while carrying a glowing magical spear through the streets of London?"
Orion considered this challenge, his royal dignity warring with the practical necessities of their mission. "Perhaps... perhaps it could be disguised as something else?"
"Like what?" Steve asked.
"A walking stick?" Diana suggested helpfully.
"A very large walking stick," Mala added.
"For a very tall man," Orion said, warming to the idea. "Yes, that could work."
Steve looked at the magnificent trident, with its three prongs gleaming with supernatural power and its shaft inscribed with ancient runes. "Sure," he said weakly. "A walking stick. Because that's not suspicious at all."
"Actually," Orion said thoughtfully, "I can make it appear as a walking stick."
"Appear?" Steve asked.
Orion lifted the trident and closed his eyes. The weapon began to shimmer, its surface rippling like water. Before Steve's astonished gaze, the three-pronged head transformed into a simple curved handle, the glowing runes faded to ordinary wood grain, and the entire magnificent weapon suddenly looked like nothing more than an elegant gentleman's walking stick.
Steve blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Still a walking stick.
"How did you do that?" he demanded.
"Simple perception magic," Orion explained casually. "To everyone except those I choose to show the truth, it will appear as an ordinary walking stick. Quite useful for diplomatic missions."
Steve stared at the now-mundane-looking stick, then at Orion, then back at the stick. "You just... you made it look different. With magic. Real magic."
"Of course," Orion said, looking puzzled by Steve's reaction. "Did you think I was going to physically reshape a divine artifact?"
"I..." Steve started, then stopped. He looked around at Diana, who was watching with mild interest, at Mala, who seemed bored by the whole thing, and at Orion, who was acting like he'd just tied his shoes. "You know what? I give up."
"Give up what?" Diana asked.
"Trying to understand any of this," Steve said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "A week ago, the most magical thing in my life was my mother's ability to make meatloaf stretch to feed six people. Now I'm watching a prince from Atlantis use actual magic to disguise his god-blessed pitchfork as a walking stick, and I'm just... I'm done trying to make sense of it."
"It's not a pitchfork," Orion protested.
"I don't care!" Steve laughed, a slightly hysterical edge to it. "Call it whatever you want. At this point, you could tell me it's actually a sandwich and I'd just nod and ask if you want mustard on it."
Diana placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Steve Trevor, are you having some kind of breakdown?"
"Maybe," Steve admitted. "But you know what? I'm okay with it. This is my life now. I travel with immortal Amazons and underwater royalty who can do magic. The myths are real, the gods exist, and somewhere out there is a guy with a cosmic cube who wants to destroy reality." He shrugged. "Sure. Why not? At least it's interesting."
"That's a very healthy attitude," Mala observed approvingly.
"Is it?" Steve asked. "Because I feel like a sane person would be curled up in a corner somewhere, crying."
"Sanity is overrated," Orion said cheerfully, testing his disguised trident by tapping it against the deck. It made the sound of wood on wood instead of divine metal on Amazon-crafted ship. "Besides, once you accept that anything is possible, life becomes much more enjoyable."
"Easy for you to say," Steve muttered. "You grew up with this stuff. I grew up thinking electricity was pretty advanced technology."
"You're adapting remarkably well," Diana said encouragingly. "Most mortals would have fainted by now."
"Most mortals don't get pulled out of the Mediterranean by Amazon princesses," Steve pointed out. "I think my definition of normal got permanently broken somewhere around the time I met you."
"It's better than explaining that you're traveling with the heir to an underwater kingdom," Diana pointed out.
"Fair point," Steve conceded. He looked around at his three extraordinary companions, trying to imagine them in mundane 1940s clothing. "This is going to be interesting."
As the English coastline became visible in the distance, Steve felt the weight of returning to his original world and mission. The past few days had expanded his understanding of reality beyond anything he could have imagined, but now came the challenge of translating that knowledge into actionable intelligence while keeping his mythological allies from accidentally starting an international incident.
"Whatever happens in London," he said to Diana, "I want you to know that meeting you has changed everything for me. Not just my understanding of the war, but my understanding of what's possible in this world."
Diana's expression softened. "And meeting you has reminded me that courage and honor exist beyond the shores of Themyscira. Perhaps that's what this war truly needs, champions from both our worlds working together."
The Thames Estuary was shrouded in the gray morning mist that seemed perpetually to hang over England during wartime. As their Amazon vessel approached the mouth of the river, the familiar sound of engines reached them across the water. British patrol boats cut through the murky water with practiced efficiency, their sleek forms emerging from the fog like hunting wolves.
"There," Steve said, pointing toward the approaching vessels. "Right on schedule."
The lead patrol boat was flying the White Ensign, and through his binoculars, Steve could make out the crisp uniforms of Royal Navy personnel manning the deck guns. Despite their peaceful intentions, the sight of armed military vessels approaching made Steve's pulse quicken. A loudspeaker crackled to life across the water.
"Unknown vessel, this is His Majesty's Ship Resolute. State your identity and purpose in these waters immediately."
Steve cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted back, "Captain Steven Trevor, United States Army Air Forces, serial number 32557038. I'm carrying urgent intelligence for Allied Command."
Diana watched the exchange with fascination, her enhanced hearing picking up the anxiety in the British voices even at this distance. "They seem quite concerned about our arrival," she observed.
"They should be," Steve replied. "These waters have seen German U-boats, enemy commandos, and worse. They can't afford to take chances with unidentified vessels."
There was a long pause, during which Steve could imagine frantic radio communications taking place between the patrol boat and higher authorities in London. He found himself holding his breath, hoping that his credentials would be verified quickly enough to avoid more complicated explanations.
Finally, the response came, slightly more relaxed but still professionally cautious. "Captain Trevor, please prepare to be boarded for verification. Maintain your current heading and reduce speed to five knots."
"This is it," Steve said to his companions, his voice low but urgent. "Remember what we discussed. You're allies from neutral nations with combat experience. Nothing more until we absolutely have to reveal it. Diana, try not to look too... intimidating. Mala, please don't reach for any weapons unless we're actually under attack. And Orion..."
"I understand," the Atlantean prince replied. "I'll try to speak more like you people do."
The boarding process was conducted with the methodical efficiency that had made the Royal Navy legendary. A motor launch approached their vessel, and a young lieutenant climbed aboard with practiced ease, accompanied by two armed ratings whose eyes never stopped moving as they assessed potential threats. The lieutenant was perhaps twenty-five, with the sort of precisely trimmed mustache that seemed regulation for British officers, and eyes that had already seen too much war for someone his age.
"Captain Trevor?" the lieutenant asked, his accent carrying the crisp authority of Sandhurst training.
"That's me," Steve confirmed, producing his waterlogged but still readable identification papers.
The lieutenant examined the documents with the thoroughness that wartime security demanded, comparing the photograph to Steve's face and checking the serial numbers against a list he consulted from his jacket pocket. "These appear to be in order, Captain. Radio confirmation from London indicates you're cleared for escort to Westminster Pier." His gaze shifted to Steve's three companions, taking in their unusual appearance with poorly concealed curiosity. "Your companions?"
"Allied personnel with intelligence valuable to the war effort," Steve replied as smoothly as he could manage. "Their nations prefer to maintain diplomatic discretion for now."
The lieutenant's trained eye swept over Diana, Mala, and Orion, clearly noting details that didn't quite fit his expectations. Diana's bearing was too regal, too confident for any ordinary refugee or diplomat. Mala moved with the predatory grace of someone who had killed in combat, her eyes constantly scanning for threats in a way that spoke of battlefield experience. And Orion, despite his efforts to appear normal, carried himself with an otherworldly dignity that no amount of modern clothing could entirely conceal.
"I say," the lieutenant began hesitantly, "forgive the inquiry, but your friend there," he nodded toward Orion, "has something of an unusual accent. Might I ask which nation he represents?"
Orion stepped forward with careful courtesy, having clearly rehearsed this moment. "I come from a small island kingdom in the Mediterranean. My people have remained neutral in this conflict, but recent events have convinced us that isolation is no longer sustainable."
The explanation was technically true, Steve realized with relief, even if it left out a few significant details about Orion's kingdom being several thousand feet underwater.
"And the ladies?" the lieutenant pressed, his curiosity clearly piqued by Diana and Mala's striking appearance and obvious martial bearing.
Diana stepped forward, her chin lifted with unconscious nobility. "I am Diana, Princess of Themysc..."
"Prince," Steve interrupted smoothly, moving to her side with practiced ease. "Diana Prince. She's from an old aristocratic family in northern Greece. This is her cousin, Mala Prince." His mind raced as he built the story, grateful for their similar dark features and bearing. "They escaped when the Germans overran their estates near the Albanian border."
Diana blinked in surprise, but something in Steve's expression, a mixture of warning and desperate plea, made her hold her tongue. She nodded slowly, understanding the necessity even if she didn't like the deception.
"Dreadful business in the Balkans," the lieutenant said with genuine sympathy. "The reports we've received about HYDRA operations in that region... quite disturbing. I'm terribly sorry for your losses, Miss Prince."
"Thank you," Diana replied carefully, allowing real emotion to color her voice as she thought of her fallen sisters. "We witnessed... unspeakable things."
"The family had estates in the northern mountains," Steve continued, building on the foundation with details that would support his intelligence. "Ancient holdings that commanded strategic positions overlooking key valleys. When HYDRA forces moved through the region, Miss Prince and her cousin witnessed their operations before being forced to flee."
The lieutenant's attention sharpened considerably at the mention of HYDRA. "You witnessed HYDRA operations? What manner of activities?"
Diana's expression grew solemn, drawing on the very real pain of recent loss. "They attacked our... our family compound without warning. We had thought ourselves safe in the mountains, far from the main fighting." Her voice carried genuine grief as she continued. "They had weapons unlike anything we had ever seen. Blue energy that could make entire structures simply... vanish. As if they had never existed."
"My aunt," Diana said quietly, her voice breaking slightly with authentic emotion, "she tried to organize the defense of our people. She was a remarkable woman, trained in the old ways of combat. But these weapons..." She shook her head, the memory of Antiope's death lending painful truth to her words. "The energy struck her and she was simply gone. No body to mourn, no remains to bury. Just... nothing."
Mala nodded grimly, her own memories of the battle adding weight to the account. "We watched from hiding as they systematically destroyed everything. Buildings, vehicles, anyone who resisted. The blue light consumed whatever it touched. There was no defense against it, no way to fight back against such power."
"Good Lord," the lieutenant breathed, his pen pausing as he absorbed this account. "That's... that's quite horrible. I'm terribly sorry for your losses. This corroborates other disturbing reports we've received about HYDRA's capabilities."
"We barely escaped with our lives," Diana continued, her voice steadying as she built on Steve's cover story. "Captain Trevor found us during our flight from the mountains. Without his assistance, we would never have reached safety."
"And your Mediterranean friend?" the lieutenant asked, turning to Orion. "How does he factor into this?"
Steve glanced quickly at Diana and Mala, catching the slight tension in their postures as he prepared to explain Orion's role. "Captain Nikolas Aquinas. He commands a merchant vessel that's been operating in those waters for... well, for generations, haven't you, Captain?"
At the word "Captain," both Diana and Mala stiffened almost imperceptibly. Steve caught their reaction immediately, shooting them a sharp look that conveyed both warning and necessity. The Amazon women had just watched him assign command of what was technically their vessel to someone else entirely, and worse, to an Atlantean claiming authority over Amazon seas. Diana's jaw tightened slightly, while Mala's hand moved fractionally toward where her sword would normally rest.
Orion, to his credit, seemed to understand the delicate nature of the deception. "My family has sailed these waters for many years," he said carefully, his tone neutral. "We know the currents, the hidden channels, the places where... unusual things might be observed without detection."
"Captain Aquinas was able to get close enough to HYDRA coastal installations to observe their naval operations," Steve continued, maintaining eye contact with Diana and Mala to ensure their continued silence. "Submarine movements, supply convoys, that sort of thing. When I encountered Miss Prince and her cousin during their escape, the Captain provided our means of extraction."
"A coastal captain with detailed knowledge of HYDRA naval activities," the lieutenant summarized approvingly. "And aristocratic witnesses to their weapons testing program. This intelligence could prove invaluable for planning countermeasures."
Diana forced herself to nod agreement, though her eyes flashed with barely contained indignation at hearing Orion referred to as captain of their vessel. Beside her, Mala remained rigidly still, her expression carefully neutral despite the obvious effort it required.
"The weapons we observed," Diana said, redirecting the conversation back to safer ground, "they seemed to be powered by some kind of... cosmic energy source. A blue cube that pulsed with unnatural light."
The lieutenant's pen stopped moving entirely. "A blue cube? You actually saw this device?"
"Multiple times," Steve confirmed, grateful that Diana was providing details that aligned with his actual intelligence. "HYDRA appears to be using it as a power source for their most advanced weapons. The energy output is unlike anything in conventional military technology."
"This is extraordinary intelligence," the lieutenant said, his excitement barely contained. "London will want to debrief you immediately upon arrival. All of you."
As they were guided toward the vessel that would take them upriver to London, Diana found herself walking stiffly beside Steve, her royal composure barely concealing her irritation.
"Captain Aquinas?" she murmured through gritted teeth, her voice pitched low enough that only Steve could hear.
"It was the most believable explanation for why he'd know so much about maritime operations," Steve replied quietly, understanding her displeasure. "I needed to give him authority that would justify his knowledge."
"You made an Atlantean the captain of an Amazon vessel," Mala added softly from Diana's other side, her tone carefully controlled. "In our culture, that would be considered..."
"Insulting. I know." Steve's voice carried genuine regret. "But right now, maintaining our cover is more important than protocol. I promise, once we're safely in London and can speak privately, we'll sort out the real chain of command."
Diana took a deep breath, clearly struggling with the necessity of the deception. "Your world requires a great deal of... flexibility regarding the truth."
"Sometimes survival does," Steve agreed. "But I give you my word that when this is over, when we've delivered the intelligence and dealt with HYDRA, proper recognition will be given where it's due."
Orion, who had been walking slightly ahead of them, slowed his pace to fall in step with the group. "I meant no disrespect," he said quietly, his voice carrying sincere regret. "The deception serves our common purpose."
"We understand the necessity," Diana replied formally, though her tone remained cool. "But do not mistake expedience for acceptance, Captain Aquinas."
As they boarded the vessel that would take them upriver to London, Diana walked with stiff, controlled movements beside Steve, her royal composure barely concealing her irritation. Mala followed just behind, her own displeasure evident in the careful precision of her steps. The Amazon women had just endured watching an Atlantean being declared captain of their vessel, and the insult burned despite their understanding of its necessity.
Once they were settled on deck and the flotilla began its stately progress up the Thames, Steve positioned himself near the bow where he could speak quietly with his companions. The British escorts flanking their vessel made the journey feel both safer and more constrained, their presence a constant reminder of the deception they now had to maintain.
"The water here..." Orion began quietly, his voice filled with wonder as he gazed at the muddy Thames flowing beneath them. "It's so different from what I expected. So... alive with activity."
"Different how?" Diana asked, her earlier irritation beginning to fade as she watched the Atlantean prince experiencing the surface world for the first time.
"In the depths, water moves with the tides, with natural currents," Orion explained, his eyes tracking a barge loaded with supplies as it passed them going downstream. "But this... there are vessels everywhere, people using the water as a road. I never imagined the surface world could be so... organized."
Steve smiled at Orion's obvious amazement. "Rivers have been highways for thousands of years. The Thames especially. It's how London became what it is."
"You speak of London with familiarity," Mala observed, "yet your accent is different from the British officers. Where are you from?"
"America," Steve replied. "A nation across the Atlantic Ocean. We only gained our independence from Britain about a hundred and seventy years ago."
Orion's brow furrowed in concentration. "Across the Atlantic? That's... that's an enormous distance. How did you come to be here?"
"By ship, then by aircraft for my mission," Steve explained. "My country joined this war after we were attacked. Now we're fighting alongside the British and other allies against the Axis powers."
The English countryside was unfolding around them, and Diana found herself captivated by the sight. The Thames Valley stretched out on either side, a carefully tended patchwork of green fields divided by ancient hedgerows. Small villages dotted the landscape, their church spires reaching toward the gray sky.
"Everything is so... intentional," Diana breathed, leaning forward against the rail. "Every field, every road, every building. It's like someone planned it all."
"Not planned exactly," Steve said with a chuckle. "More like... grown over time. Thousands of years of people working the same land, each generation building on what came before."
"Thousands of years?" Orion asked, clearly struggling to comprehend the timescale. "But humans live such short lives. How can they create something lasting?"
"They pass it down," Steve explained patiently. "Father to son, mother to daughter. Each generation adds something, improves something, preserves what works and changes what doesn't."
"Like a coral reef," Orion said suddenly, understanding dawning in his voice. "Each polyp builds on the skeletons of those who came before, creating something vast and enduring from countless small contributions."
"That's... actually a perfect analogy," Steve said, impressed. "I never thought of it that way, but yes. Civilization is built layer by layer, generation by generation."
Mala had been quietly studying the riverbanks with a warrior's eye. "Your people prepare well for defense," she observed approvingly. "The high ground is fortified, the bridges positioned to control passage. Even in this peaceful-looking countryside, I can see gun positions hidden among the trees."
Steve followed her gaze, surprised by her tactical awareness. "You can spot military positions from here?"
"A warrior learns to read terrain," Mala replied simply. "Water is a natural barrier and highway both. Any sensible military force would defend it carefully."
"The British have had lots of practice," Steve agreed. "This island's been invaded more times than anyone can count. Romans, Vikings, Saxons, Normans... they've learned to stay ready."
As they progressed upriver, pastoral countryside gave way to industrial landscapes. Factories appeared along the banks, many showing bomb damage but still operational, smoke rising from their chimneys in defiant proof of Britain's determination to continue production.
"What are those structures?" Orion asked, pointing to a cluster of industrial buildings. "They seem to be... creating something? The smoke..."
"Factories," Steve explained. "They make things the war effort needs. Weapons, ammunition, aircraft parts, uniforms, medical supplies. Everything an army requires to keep fighting."
Diana studied the bombed and rebuilt facilities with growing understanding. "The enemy has attacked them?"
"The Germans have been trying to destroy British industry," Steve confirmed. "But the British just rebuild and keep working. It's quite something to see."
"They continue despite the danger?" Orion asked, clearly amazed. "Even when their homes and workplaces are under attack?"
"Especially then," Steve said with genuine admiration. "That's what makes them so hard to defeat. The more you try to break them, the more determined they become."