In Finding Nemo and Finding Dory, the fish in the movies also appear to have few siblings, which made me think maybe there is much more death of young fish offscreen than directly shown at in the series. If so, then a predator wiping out a whole family would be fairly common. This is my take on giving some explanation to this and also giving the Nemo films a more natural feel when it comes to survival. This story is inspired by both how the natural world works and unfortunately, the COVID-19 pandemic.
I already have quite a few chapters written. Expect a new chapter to be posted roughly every other Friday. Enjoy! :)
General Warnings (these do not apply to every chapter): Non-explicit mentions of sex, child death, ableism, general darkness, and speciesism.
Important Note: The views of my OC Barbara are absolutely not my own including toward people (or fish) with any kind of disability. I absolutely love Dory and Marlin as characters! Barbara is meant to be a very closed-minded character and show the contrast between two some crab species and fish view/see the world. She might not be that likeable, but she is complicated and fun to write that said, Marlin, Nemo, and Dory would definitely not be in this story if I didn't adore the characters and Finding Nemo and Finding Dory movies. :) As it stands, I am writing conflict to drive the plot. Don't think I will go easy on Barbara in future chapters either! ;)
P.S: Feel free to check out SoaringGryphonProductions's Finding Nemo story Jaws and Claws. It seems really good so far! It also features a crab as a main character. Please note that my story also has a crab as a main character, I was unaware that SoaringGryphonProductions's story existed until I had already written a few chapters of this story. This was written and continues to be written entirely independently of Jaws and Claws.
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"What's the one thing we have to remember about the ocean?"
"It's not safe."
Son, if you live long enough to truly understand this, you are lucky.
- Marlin to Nemo
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In the sunlit depths of the Great Barrier Reef, fish swam to-and-fro. Colorful damselfish and flounders gathered food and tended to their families. Schools of nervous blennies sought shelter in the white sand in the crystal clear water, ever watchful of larger fish. Among them, Barbara nestled in the Stylophora coral with her husband Copper.
"Pretty day. Lots of people out." the old crab said.
Barbara glanced at her dull red and white dotted partner. "Yes, but you know it is more difficult to forage this way.", she said, eying the bright reef. "Everyone can see so well that all the food gets eaten." She frowned, spotting a young fish gobble up a piece of debris that she hoped would float over to them.
Her eye stalks shifted to the neighbors-a parrotfish family next door. And above her coral hideaway, two clownfish that for some reason chose to associate with a disabled tang. "Not a boring life though."
"Mhm-hmm". The conversation died and minutes passed with dull silence as the crabs looked onward.
Coral crabs weren't known for being great conversationalists, especially elderly ones. Fish said that crabs weren't that smart. But thinkers and observers they were, or at least Barbara was.
She saw the blue tang do a strange shimmy dance. "De de de. Oooooooouum! Iiiiiieeee buuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrm!" The larger clownfish left his anemone to scold her. Typical. After this is over, I'll need a nap.
But as the two fish interacted, Barbara pondered as she did every time she saw them if staying here was a good idea. Disabled fish attracted predators. Still at age 21-a very old age for a coral crab- she was in no shape to travel. "A weak fish is a dead fish. It is the way of nature." a crab teacher had once informed her. Barbara tried to flex her pinchers, too stiff with age to open much. She expected to be dead within the next year- a bad molt could kill her if she ever became too weak to complete it. So why worry?
Besides, the large clownfish was well-known for battling sharks and jellyfish to rescue his son. If the story was true, Barbara thought him an idealistic idiot for risking his life when he still appeared young enough to find a mate and start over. And even more crazy for putting his remaining offspring at risk for keeping the tang with a three second memory around.
"Hey, how about this one? Hmmmmmmmhhh oooooooooo!"
"Please stop." the exasperated clownfish said. Silence descended on the reef once more. Barbara found herself drifting to sleep.
A short time later, noise resumed.
"Where's Nemo?"
"He's at school Dory".
"Oooh right!" the tang smiled.
"Here it comes." Barbara muttered, blinking herself awake.
The blue tang swam directly to the anemone. "Oh, oh , oh, oh!"
"Dory, remember. Don't touch the-"
"Brains!" Dory exclaimed.
"No."
"Sand."
"No."
"Hat. Blue algae. Pointy thing."
"No, no, and no." A pause. "Well the last one probably yes. -But Dory"
Barbara scanned the ocean ahead for food particles. She didn't particularly care if she was woken. She had all day. She was a crab, an old crab without much reason or ability to move much anymore. As long as she got some sleep and got enough debris and mucus from the Stylophora coral to eat, she was fine. No mating rituals. No eggs to care for anymore. Nothing to do but live with her partner for as long as possible until a predator or time claimed her.
"Dory! C'mon. You can remember this. The anemone stings. Don't swim near it."
"Got it." The blue tang was doing unusually well. How many days had it been since she last stung herself? Since last week maybe?
One of the neighbor parrotfish couple's children began crying. The father handed it a pebble. The little fry laughed, delighted. Barbara recalled what looked like many hundreds of tiny babies swimming around their parents last year. But then a current had come and despite the parents' frantic efforts, now only dozens remained.
Barbara wondered what had become of her own children that she had released into the current as soon as they hatched.
Darkness settled over the reef with with it, predators lurking in the shadows. Like every night, every creature on the reef knew that the night could be their last. Copper's eye stalks shifted to-and-fro.
"Danger?" Barbara asked, her voice gravelly.
"I heard the triggerfish are in this part of the reef tonight."
"From who? You know the source is important."
"I don't remember." Copper admitted. "But I heard it today from someone. Maybe some fish swimming overhead on the reef? I don't know."
Barbara sighed softly. No use upsetting her husband. He was a good husband for old female like herself. Protective, observant, willing to defend their coral home from intruders when she couldn't. He was younger than her, but still too old to chase females anymore. His memory was a little shorter than she would have liked, but she doubted she would find anyone else interested in being a partner from her species. The honeycomb coral crab was not exactly known for being the marrying type of crab, especially when young.
The pair crawled deep into the crevices of the Stylophora coral. Out of the specks of moonlight dancing on the crevices of the coral, Copper's inquisitive eyes focused on her. "Do you ever wish we were younger?"
The question caught Barbara off guard. They often did when they were not related to survival or their environment. "No. Why?"
"We could have been mates. Had a family, you know?"
"Yes. You are better than some of the other males that fathered children with me. But that's not how it turned out."
There was a quiet sigh from the polyp next to her hiding spot. "Always the realist." Copper chuckled.
"Put it this way. If we mated, what would have happened?" Barbara asked matter-of-factly. "You would proved yourself best of all the males, mated, and wondered off until, if we ever, crossed paths again. I would protect the eggs and release them when they hatched. Where's the family in that?"
"But what if I had stayed in the area and returned every breeding season?"
"And defeated all the other males each time? "Barbara wondered why this needed to be mentioned. Coral crabs weren't loyal.
"No. If we had an agreement to meet in the same place at the same time in a place we knew there would be no other crabs for the mating. And if we agreed that I would return every breeding season and we would mate if you were... you know ready for it."
Barbara pondered it for a moment. She sensed a tenseness from her partner for some reason. "Well, it doesn't matter now, but you suggested that and we were young, I suppose I would agree. We wouldn't exactly be following the conventions of our species, but it wouldn't be too far off course."
"Could you please keep it down with the sex talk?" an exasperated voice interjected from the anemone above. "There are children sleeping."
"We-" Barbara put a claw on Copper's to silence him.
"Thank you." Marlin replied. "Neighbors." he muttered.
The night deepened as the clouds drifted over the white halo of the moon. Barbara woke with the sparse fuzz on her carapace standing straight. Like a hundred nights before, it was happening.
There was a shuffling sound for a few moments. Then a creak that Barbara felt more than heard in the coral. The light scampering of Copper.
The scared scream of a clownfish. The breaking of coral. Stony shards falling. The rooting of a large mouth through a growing pile of debris.
Barbara stood stock still, gills pumping. If she made no sound, she had a chance.
Another scamper from Copper. A muffled cry from the blue tang and an electric buzz of nematocysts firing.
Barbara felt the mouth get closer. A stifled scream and crab blood filled her senses. But she knew she could do nothing. Even if her pincers functioned normally, they'd be no match for a large fish- likely the triggerfish Copper had heard about-to save her partner. If he died, she would continue on as she had many times before in the face of death. But no matter how many times a predator hunted her, instincts overwhelmed her practical mind and left her in some degree of terror.
Another cry from Copper. The mouth was closer now. Adrenaline urged her frail body to act, but she could no nothing. Maybe her luck would end. It would have been a full life.
Barbara felt the swish of current from quickly turning fins and with it the taste of her husband's blood recede. Minutes passed and she didn't dare move. The silence was thick. Hyperventilating and the sounds of moving fins came from the anemone.
Slowly, the old crab edged closer to her mate. She could smell his injuries with her antennae. "Copper?" she asked hopefully.
The shuffle of legs. "I am alive." a breathless voice answered.
"Good." Barbara said flatly. "Where is the injury?"
"Saving my breath..."
Barbara nodded in the darkness to herself. Slowly, gently, she used her legs and antennae to feel around her husband's body for injury. She wanted to focus on the task at hand but as she inspected each leg, claw, and ridge-she saw a couple hundred young coral crabs at school. Her school.
"So what is the difference between a hermit crab and most crab species?" the teacher, an adult hermit crab asked.
"Hermits aren't social." a child answered.
"So there is room in the sand for the other crabs."
"Some crabs burrow. A shell is a hermit crab's home."
"The third answer is correct." the teacher smiled.
"But-" a boy coral crab that looked a lot like Barbara said.
"No interrupting now!" the teacher chided. "Yes. Coral crabs don't do burrow or have shells. Coral is their protection. You honestly thought I would leave that out for crab students?" Strange pink liquid oozed from behind a coral.
The teacher's eye stalks focused on Barbara and the other student. Her pincers opened slightly. "Now. I will have no more interruptions. Since we are on the topic. There are other places that crab species prefer-"
Some of the class began to cough. Barbara looked up. Past the liquid, a huge white curved creature floated in the water some distance away. No one had seen the water carry it toward them. It was a creature made by humans. Normally they growled loudly and slashed anything that got too close with their rotating fans when they were awake. But this one was silent and no one had thought to look.
"Crawl away!" the teacher yelled. The students who were coughing began to drop. The students scattered. Panicked fish swam in various directions. Barbara took off, but the ink was spreading and saturating everything around it in a chemical soup.
A Moorish Idol couple stubbornly looked solemnly out of a cave as other species retreated. Even as a young child, she knew what this was. Pollution. Oil. Gasoline. The human thing her teachers said killed whole reefs. Barbara crawled and crawled faster. But the stuff kept creeping up, mixing with the water behind her. When her little body seemed about to meet the pink pollutant, she felt a strong current ahead. Forcing all the speed that she could into her legs, she leapt into the current.
It was strong enough that it lifted her body and carried her toward the open ocean. Weeks later, she had rejoined what was left of her class to find that the teacher and most of the students had perished.
Barbara remembered this as the first time that she felt terror in her life. Shortly after that, she learned that nearly every crab from a clutch of eggs dies before they begin school. With that, any innocuous in the young crab had vanished. Only the lucky and strong survive in nature.