Family

Do you know, when I met your gramps,
He was just a blobby little kid?
It wasn't until the war that he grew up,
And even then, he was prone to mischief.
I turned him down ten times when we were squidlings,
But not when he offered to let me fire his bamboozler.

Several dozen boxes of nutrition bars. Enough vitamins for several months. Three changes of clothes for Gramps; two spare hero suits and that ridiculous cape Three loves. Walky-talkies, cell phones, spare weapons and a repair kit each.

It doesn't seem like enough. Marie chews on the end of one tentacle, her eyes on her gramps as he zips up the pack and hefts it. "It's heavy, but I can walk all day with it if need be." He turns and spots Marie, and his face snaps into a scowl. "Do I need to dip those in vinegar again?"

Marie releases her tentacle at once, though the end of it is already starting to look a bit ragged. She sighs and locks her hands behind her. Leaving them loose today was a mistake.

"Wait," Gramps says, and hobbles into the hut. Marie does, looking over at the empty space. Callie's got her roller out, shades on against today's sun, and is putting Three through their paces. Three's hero suit has access to all the new specials Sheldon's devised, and her cape is a main and four subs of special charge up; they're working on Three's baller skills now.

Gramps emerges with a pale green ribbon in his hands. "Let me," he says, moving behind her. He strokes her tentacles, and Marie is seven again, sitting without conscious thought and closing her eyes. Gramps moves his hands through her tentacles, squeezing each, a gentle massage as he checks on their—her—health. With a gentle tug, he starts to braid.

Marie keeps her eyes closed. "No hero suit for you?"

"If I have to fight," Gramps says, "we've already lost. Three and I will stick together, don't you worry. They're a good squid."

They're also sixteen. Far too young to go investigating a mysterious Octarian compound on their own, without guidance. Three is wonderful, and can beat Callie in two of every three matches, and Marie... well, Three can beat Marie when they actually get close enough to hit her, which isn't often. Their fighting skills are second to none. But they're also impulsive, and don't think through any plans, and will jump into danger with both feet and an attitude that their splattage doesn't matter as long as they succeed.

It's the last part that means Marie knows Gramps will be safe. But she still doesn't like this. "What'll I do without you?"

"Oh, Marie." Gramps runs his fingers along her tentacles again, giving them a light squeeze as he reaches the end. "You haven't needed me for years. You and Callie have been caring for yourselves and each other since before you moved here, and you were completely independent since before you got the news job." He wraps the ribbon around her tentacles and ties it. "You'll be fine."

"But..." Marie whispers.

Gramps puts a hand on her shoulder. It's too hard not to cry, not with her eyes closed, so Marie opens them wide, filling her eyes with Three playing with the inkjet and Callie trying to smack him while he does. "But nothing. Feed Octavio morning and evening, and establish a base in Octo Canyon for further patrols. Three and I will do the dangerous work, and it may take a year or two, but we'll be back. I swear it."

Marie takes a deep breath in, and releases it in a sigh. She knows there's no point in protesting, but she—she doesn't like this. She doesn't feel ready. She's good as a news host, as a singer, on the radio; she can keep their apartment... okay, Callie can keep their apartment clean, Marie keeps track of the bills. She can be an adult.

But...

"What if something happens?" She pulls her braid in front of her and toys with the bow Gramps tied.

Gramps puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. "Octavio's locked up; the odds of the Octarians doing anything without his influence, or coming up with a plan in less than 5 years without it, is almost none. But if something does happen, there's no one I would trust more than you to run things in my absence."

Marie draws in a sharp breath. She spins to look at him. "Not even Callie?"

"Agent One is qualified in many things, and a more capable close-range fighter than you'll ever manage." Gramps doesn't pull punches, and Marie winces. "But I believe it'll take her a few more failures and some hard life before she'd be capable of properly choosing, and training, a new agent. If anything happens, I have no doubt you'll figure out what to do, and who to do it with. Just remember what I've told you."

Marie takes another deep breath in, then releases it, trying to control herself. "Look for someone's potential, not just their rank," she says. "Someone who won't blab to the world. And someone too stubborn to quit."

"That's you all over." Gramps removes his hand. "Worst case scenario, well... I had Sheldon make ten cepha cages. They're not as sturdy as what Octavio is in. But if you need to question someone, you can."

Cepha cages. Designed with all the openings too tight for anyone to squid through, small enough you can't take kid form inside. There are other ways to hold someone for interrogation—ropes tied tightly enough will dig into the skin and prevent changing form, not unless they can take the chair or whatever they're tied to with them—but cepha cages will get them there.

"You won't need them," Gramps says. "But I made sure you're ready for anything."

Marie closes her eyes for a long moment. Then, she leans over to kiss Gramps on the forehead.

If a tear leaks out, neither of them comment on it.