A/N: This is a one-shot based on the information gained in the episode 'Demon of the Deep.' The story is in two sections, and the storytellers are different. That will hopefully help to avoid confusion for the readers. Hope you like it! It's not as poetic as I'd like it to be, I'm afraid.

Disclaimer: I don't have time to own SRMTHFG! I have laundry to do!

A Few Drops

There was a splash to his right, and a few drops of water leapt up to meet his cheek.

The boy ducked, orange shots from blasters soaring over his back. A few more people fell screaming into the water. The boy lifted his head to take in the battle with wide, fearful, blue and red eyes. The screaming, oh, the screaming... It was so loud, so shrill. Everyone was afraid for their life here.

The young child knew in his heart that the people screaming didn't deserve their fate.

He turned his head from side to side, searching for someone who looked familiar to him. The attack had swept him to the front of it. He needed to get back, simply away from the screaming...

The boy froze where he stood when he saw the shot being fired. The blazing mass struck a man in his shoulder. He batted the heat away with his hands with a grimace visible on his features, stumbling backwards along the beach and towards the blue-green waves. Another shot and the man fell on his back, the tide rushing in to submerge him. The waves receded for a moment, and the little boy stared in horror at the empty patch of wet sand.

The sea was just as cruel as the Shuggazoomian settlers.

The boy looked away and gazed hard at the ground. Then he ran. He ran, dodging the bodies, the blaster canons and did his best to block out the crying of the doomed. In future years the sounds would still be there, somewhere deep in his soul. The shouts would fade a little each day, but never wholly disappear. Desperate people shriek and yell for help with their entire being, and only when they at last realize that no one would aid them –or even give a pitying look or apologise quietly- do they falter and silence.

The child collided head-first into a wide chest. He put his hands up to push the man away, but his small, pale wrists were grabbed.

"What are you doing here, lad?" The man looking down at him held a blaster in his hand, and the boy shrank instinctively away. "This is a battlefield, no place for a youngster! What were you doing at the beach; the attack was planned for days!" he cried. The soldier used his palm to push the boy's damp fringe away from his oval face. A blue and red eye looked back up at him, now emotionless and cold.

"You're one of the Alkan clan." the man said with recognition. "Run, now!" He released the boy with a small shove to his back.

Then the boy ran.

How could they do this? he wondered to himself. The Council should never have approved! He stopped and looked around. He stood in the hospital area of the battle; he was safe from the fighting but surrounded by wounded and dead warriors. The healers of the settlement were working their magic and medicines. His mother should be among them somewhere, tending to some arrogant man boasting of how many he had driven into the water with only so many shots...

Tears stung his eyes. What is all this for in the end? A bit of land? And so we destroy the lives of an entire race. He brought up a hand to wipe away the tears. The terrified people of Shuggazoom being cast into the ocean were out of sight, but the screams of innocent humans drowning and transforming continued to ring through his ears.

With a tightened fist, the boy looked up with his red and blue eyes to the white sun and vowed, Someday I will right this injustice, and there will be peace on this planet.


There was a splash to his right, and a few drops of water leapt up to meet his cheek.

The boy wiped them hastily away with a grimy hand. Suddenly afraid, he prodded his face. Was he becoming like them yet? How much water would it take for him to join his people in their misfortune? No, he could feel no scales or gills just yet.

The young child knew in his heart that all this was wrong.

An hour ago, he had been innocent and ambitious and carefree and...happy. And then the settlers attacked. Every one of the Shuggazoomian natives was being driven into the planet's ocean. They were drowning for a few horrible moments before being changed beneath the surface of the choppy waves. They could see their former existence being ripped from their hands.

The boy kneaded a knuckle into his eyes. He would not cry, not yet.

Somewhere in the sea that he used to love floated the bodies of his parents. Not dead, but transformed beyond all limits. Somewhere- Somewhere in the water that was once beautiful his younger sister flailed her short arms, filled with cold, harsh fear. Was there no leg she could grab onto? Was there no one who could save her?

He had to hide. The settlers had once kept to themselves, but at noon they had come to the beach with weapons and men... His people had never stood a chance. There was not one of those men who would show mercy or pity or even simple remorse to him.

It was a cruel war.

The boy looked hard at the ground and ran. His feet sank into the sand as he dashed along the beach, but no one seemed to notice him. He remembered the old, rotting dinghy that was half-buried –upside down- on the east side of the beach. It would provide a dark hiding place. With bitterness rising up his throat, he recalled how he and his sister used to play pretend games there.

"I will be the captain," he had once proclaimed, "and you will be the sea monster who guards the sunken treasure!"

His sister had looked up at him with clear blue eyes. "But the boat has not sunk!" Then she had put her hands on her hips, giving him her best frown. "And I'm too pretty to be a sea monster!"

The boy wished, as he neared the old dinghy, that an ugly sea monster would come jumping out of the small boat and destroy the settlers who were taking over his home. Years ago, back when he was young enough to play pretend games, he would only have wished a monster to scare them. Now he knew war and betrayal. Now he knew the importance of avenging his people.

The boy pushed himself under the side of the dinghy, thrusting sand in all directions. Underneath it, he could lie flat on his stomach and look out at the beach through the splits in the hull.

Nero Proteus watched the remainder of his people fall and swore, with the weak sunlight shining through the cracks, Someday I will right this injustice, and we will have our revenge.

I would like some constructive criticism on this... I'm not very sure about the repitition I used. Maybe I should have posted it as two stories. I'll see what you readers think, okay?

I wanted to say a whole lot more on the subject of fruitless war, but I sort of forgot the words I was going to use. I also asked my mother for stories. She had witnessed various scenes of civil war in her childhood and I wanted to include some of it in here but to be honest, one of the stories was absolutely disgusting. Review or PM if you really want to hear it.

Don't ask me about Captain Proteus' name. I was stuck on a name for him and I went, 'Heck, just name him after a Roman emperor!' And now it sounds like 'Nemo.' I will leave the identity of the boy in the first section of this story up to the reader. The Alchemist, an ancestor of the Alchemist, whatever you like.

Anyway, if you care to leave a review, please do!