Chapter 2: Mind Brand

June 4729, PF

Aileen stood in line for lunch, looking around the room. Hundreds of octarians were there, many eating and chatting with coworkers and supervisors. She sighed, wishing the dining facility wasn't so overcrowded. She longed for the day to be over so she could return to her quiet room and relax.

"Corporal Marso!" she heard a female voice shout. She turned in the direction it came from and saw a tall octoling waving at her, coming in at 182 centimeters. The octoling wore the standard issue octoling uniform, complete with the goggles and octoshot, plus an arm band with a red cross.

"Oh, hey, Smith," Aileen replied. "Haven't seen you in a bit, how's medical been?"

Sergeant Christie Smith walked over and joined Aileen in line. "Not too bad," she answered. "I mean, nothing too much aside from the normal dumbass private getting themselves hurt. We haven't had any major injuries lately since we're relatively docile out in the city. Congrats on the promotion, by the way. Looks like you're catching up to me again!"

Aileen smirked. "I'll be higher ranking than you soon enough, just you wait. I got word from Colonel Northwell that he plans on giving me a small platoon to train, which means that depending on how I do, I'll be up next for another promotion."

"Wow, that sounds like a good learning experience. Think you'll be hard on them?"

"If I wasn't, then there's no way they'd make it out there when it comes time for real battle. I won't be cruel, though, just strict."

"Definitely a fine line between the two. Don't be afraid to be too hard on them though, they need to realize that war is a rough place to be."

"Oh, for sure," Aileen agreed. "I just don't want them to be discouraged more than necessary."

"Smart choice. Keep that kind of work up, and you'll be next in line for a sergeant position."

"Absolutely. And soon, it'll put me ahead of you."

Smith laughed. "In your dreams! I-" Her goggles began to light up and buzz slightly. "Oh, hang on, gotta take this call." She tapped on the side of her goggles, accepting the call. She nodded a couple times with a "yeah" or "no", and ended it pretty quickly. "Well, I gotta get going, another private got himself hurt."

"What happened this time?"

"He thought it'd be fun to do a flip off a troop hauler. Landed flat on his face and nearly popped like a balloon. I'll catch you some other time, alright?"

"Alright, see you later." Aileen waved as Smith ran off.

Aileen flopped down on her bed, exhausted. The day had ended with mandatory physical training, and she was whipped. The leader was an old, crusty octoling who kept running his mouth about how "the army has gotten soft over the years," and "things just ain't like they used to be." He had ran them pretty hard during their session.

She stared up at the dark ceiling, breathing slowly. She enjoyed her work, and was quite happy in life, but she felt like something was missing. She couldn't quite put a finger on it, but something was off.

The main thing that really troubled her was her inability to remember anything that occurred more than three years prior. She knew she was in her mid 20's, and that she had a life before joining the octarian army, but no memories were there to prove it. She had gone to mental health a few times, but they blew her off each time, so she gave up on that.

With a sigh, she walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on, ready to clean up after a long day of work. Aside from PT, she had also been practicing drills she'd been given to train her recruits on, and had wanted to perfect them so she could properly demonstrate them without any mistakes. The drills were mainly evasive, so they required a good amount of aerobic activity.

She stripped her PT uniform off and climbed in the shower, letting the hot water run down her back. The water relaxed her, and she let out a small sigh. She enjoyed taking her time in the shower, letting the stress melt away and soothe her after a long, wearisome day.

After 20 minutes or so, she shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself in a towel. She dried off and got dressed, then laid back down in her bed, staring back at the ceiling. Soon, she dozed off, simply too bored and comfortable to remain awake.

"All right, listen up!" Aileen shouted. She was pacing back and forth in front of a platoon consisting of ten octolings. They all wore the army's lowest rank, and stood there at the position of attention, silent. "Just because you made it through boot camp doesn't mean anything. All you know is how the army works; no more, no less. Now, it is my job to train you on how to do your actual job: shoot to kill. You will not be trained on sparing the enemy's life. Any inkling you encounter with the intent, capability, or opportunity to kill you shall not be left alive. You will attack without mercy, and you will come home safely. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the platoon fired back in unison.

Aileen nodded, pausing a second to let their voices echo. "Good. Now pick up the octoshot next to your right foot." The platoon did as ordered. "Nope, go back! I didn't hear a single one of you say 'proceeding, ma'am' before doing so! Put it down!"

"Proceeding, ma'am!" The octoshots were now on the ground again.

"Pick it up!"

"Proceeding, ma'am!"

"Put it down!"

"Proceeding, ma'am!"

"Pick it up!"

"Proceeding, ma'am!"

"Like I said before: just because you're done with boot camp doesn't mean anything. You may think you left the structure of boot camp behind, right? You wouldn't be further from the truth. You will give me the respect I deserve, and you will listen to directions. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Moving on then. I now want all of you to work on a basic exercise. I understand you all received basic marksmanship training in boot camp; however, we're going to practice the basics before moving on so I can see that you understand what you have been taught.

"What I need you to do is lift the octoshot up, as if you're getting ready to fire. Keep your elbows slightly bent, and bring the weapon up in line with your eye to aim. Do not bring your eye down to the weapon to aim, as that is improper form. Make sure your elbows are straight but not stiff. And I'd better not see a single finger on your trigger! Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Then go!"

"Proceeding, ma'am!" The platoon did as instructed, bringing the weapon up. Aileen walked up and down the formation, inspecting each octoling. She made slight adjustments here and there, but was pleased until she came to the last one. She took a quick look at the octoling's nametape, then stood directly in front of her, just inches from her face.

"Private Anderson!" she barked.

The private gulped and shook slightly. "Y-yes ma'am?"

"What did I say about the trigger?"

"T-to keep my f-finger off it, m-ma'am!"

"So then why the piss is your finger on the trigger?!" She took a step back and began to walk back up to the front of the formation. "Listen up, everybody! Because your battle buddy over here couldn't keep her finger off the trigger, you're all pushing for her! Everybody except Anderson, put your weapon down!"

"Proceeding, ma'am!"

"Now, PT formation go!"

"Proceeding, ma'am!" The platoon spread itself out one arm-length in each direction, then waited for further instruction.

"Turn 45 degrees to your right!"

"Proceeding, ma'am!"

"Get on your face!" Aileen waited for the platoon to do so, then began the pushup session. "Down!"

"One!" the platoon announced.

"Down!"

"Two!"

Aileen laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling again, deep in thought. Her first day instructing the trainees had gone relatively well, having a few minor hiccups. Aside from the trigger discipline incident (Aileen cringed as she recalled it), everything had gone smoothly. The trainees were definitely promising, and she had no doubt that they'd be great soldiers.

She closed her eyes with a sigh, now focusing on her past. She had managed to piece together small memories, but couldn't get much. She wasn't able to recognize any faces in the memories she had been able to recover. Something that shocked her, though, was the number of inklings she saw in the memories. Her number one enemies, closely interacting with her? And seeming to be friendly with each other? She struggled to make heads or tails of it.

She dove deeper into the blank slate, searching for small moments she could latch onto. Farther and farther down into a dark void she swam. Some small things popped into view: purchasing an ice cream cone on a hot summer day; riding a bike down a crowded street; reading a book in a room full of young inklings and octolings; taking a walk down an empty country road, snow piled up on the ground and falling from the sky. Nothing distinct came from these memories, but they gave her hope. She replayed these over and over in her head, feeling slightly at peace.

Slowly, Aileen lifted a hand up to her face, grabbing the side of her goggles. She began to pull them off of her head, but was hit with a sharp blast of pain. Her hand shot back down and she laid there on the bed motionless, breathing heavily. The presence of the goggles worried her as it was, but the fact that she wasn't even able to take them off made her feel far more anxious. What were they there for, and why wasn't she able to take them off? What purpose did they serve? What would really happen if they were taken off?

These questions haunted her as she slowly drifted off to sleep, and another dreamless night followed.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Aileen asked, standing at attention. She stood in front of a desk in a small office, decorated with army medals, achievements, coins, and other paraphernalia.

"At ease, Corporal; have a seat," said a male octoling. He sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, was dark skinned with graying tentacles, and had a build akin to that commonly found in films enjoyed by humans in the 1980's. In front of him was a nameplate that said in big, bold letters 'Colonel Northwell, 12th Expeditionary Brigade Commander.' "I heard some concerning news about you, Corporal."

Aileen sat down in front of the desk, now confused. "Sorry, sir?"

"You understand we're monitoring your every move, correct?"

"Yes, sir, I am aware of that."

"So tell me, Corporal, why did you try to remove your goggles last night?"

Aileen froze. "I don't know what you're talking abo-"

"You don't know what I'm talking about? So the video footage and the system errors we received are all a farce?"

"Sir, I-"

"I don't want to hear it. Those goggles are there for a reason, and they are not to be removed. Is that clear, corporal?"

"Sir, why are they there?"

"I cannot answer that question, and you know it. It was ordered by General Octavio himself. I myself do not know why they are there, but despite that, we have orders to follow."

"I don't understand, sir. They don't serve a purpose as far as I can see. They don't read out any information you may need to know about the area you're in, or give you information about how full your ink tank is. If anything, they're a glorified comms system. That's all I can see. When in the field, they only got in the way. Sir."

Northwell slapped his desk. "I don't care what you think, Corporal, all I care about is you following orders. Is that understood?"

"I-"

"Is that fucking understood, Corporal?"

Aileen nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get out of my sight before I take away your damn platoon. I expected better from you, Corporal. Do not fucking disappoint me again."

"Yes, sir." Aileen stood up, saluted him, did an about face, and marched out of the room.

Aileen paced back and forth in front of her platoon. "Today is your final exam," she announced. Five months had passed since the training began, and she was ready to get them on to the next stage: actual operational level activities. "I'll be taking you out on an expedition that will last for 72 hours. I will be dropping you in an undisclosed location, and over the course of those 72 hours, your navigational and marksman skills will be tested, as well as your tactical medical care. You will have to find your own food, clean your water, and push on through any obstacle. You will be hungry, cold, tired, and pushed beyond your limits. You will work as a team, and either all of you will pass, or none of you will. There is no in-between. If a single member croaks, you all fail. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good! Now pick up your equipment and load it on the troop hauler!"

"Yes, ma'am!" The platoon picked up their bags as ordered and marched towards a large box truck painted olive drab. They loaded themselves and the cargo up into the back of the truck. Aileen walked over and climbed into the driver's seat, firing the truck up and waiting for the platoon to be completely situated.

Once they had all sat down, she shifted the truck into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. She looked around as she drove down the road, taking a closer look at the buildings around her. She was driving down the main road on the octarian army's main post, and on each side of the road stood tall brick buildings holding many offices for commanders. They were in rough shape, and some had began to fall apart in places.

As she exited the base, the conditions of the buildings worsened. Most homes had broken windows or large vines growing up the walls, while others had collapsed entirely. Octarian children ran up and down the block, playing with whatever they could find.

Aileen grit her teeth at the sight of the poverty they all lived in. The homes in the other domes looked no better. "Those damn inklings," she muttered.

After driving for an hour, they entered the final dome. On the far side of the dome was a large rock wall that had a road cut into it, ascending to the surface. Aileen drove up the wall and out into the open air. Outside, it had turned from late evening to night, and the sky was pitch black, save from a sliver moon. All her trainees looked out the windows to see the surface, which was a sight none of them had seen prior. They cruised down a narrow dirt road weaving through a forest, making its way slowly uphill. Eventually, they encountered a highway, and Aileen took a right. They were some 30 kilometers south of Inkopolis, and continued further south towards the coast.

After another hour, Aileen turned off the highway onto another dirt road, much like the one they exited the dome on. They continued for another few kilometers before stopping in a small clearing. Aileen shut the vehicle off and jumped out. "Everybody off!" she commanded. The soldiers formed up with their gear, and she walked over and stood in front of them.

"As stated prior," she began, "this is your final test. I want to be perfectly clear: you will all pass together, or none of you will. Your goal is to find your way back to the dome in 72 hours or less. You will need to head north. That is the only hint you will receive. We've set up obstacles along the way to truly test your abilities. Your packs have been marked with tracking devices, so you will be found if you are lost. Don't get lost, though, because you don't want me to be forced to come get you. We will be monitoring you closely to ensure that you return home. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good. Your time starts now. Good luck."

"Proceeding, ma'am!"

The ten soldiers marched off into the dark forest, disappearing from sight shortly thereafter. Aileen sighed, exhausted. She wandered over to the truck and climbed into the driver's seat, resting there for a moment. She was proud of her platoon, but now she couldn't help but worry about them. A nagging feeling gripped her, whispering that they wouldn't make it back, and that they all would perish in the forest. She shook the feeling off and moved to turn the truck back on.

She saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her right eye and turned to see a heroshot five centimeters from her face. "No move!" an inkling hissed in broken octarian. He sat in the passenger seat, and had managed to sneak aboard while Aileen was briefing her platoon. "Do what I say, you live."

Aileen stared at the weapon and groaned. "Oh, come on, man. Just let me go home, I'm tired."

"Shut your mouth!"

"Who the hell are you supposed to be, anyways?"

"Do not matter," he replied. "I here for intel, no more. Give it and you live. Understand?"

"Why would I help you out?" she spat. "All of you inklings are scum, and you know it. Give up now, and you'll live."

The inkling raised an eyebrow. "I have gun at your head, no? You not in position to talk."

"I'd rather die than assist an inkling."

The inkling shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Before he could pull the trigger, Aileen swiftly smacked the weapon out of his hand. The heroshot clattered to the floor, and the inkling's eyes went wide. Aileen pulled a small knife out of her boot and held it to the inkling's throat. "Oh no, what will you do now?" she mocked.

The inkling trembled. "Please...let me go. No violence, let me go."

"Aww, but that kinda takes the fun out of it, no?" She moved the knife down his cheek, letting a small stream of blood leak out. She licked the blade before putting it back at his neck. "I wanna toy with you before I just let you go."

"No, please, let me go."

Aileen pouted, but put the knife away. "Alright, you can go."

"R-really?"

"You're too pathetic for me. Get out of my sight, you piece of shit."

The inkling scrambled out of the vehicle and made a break for the treeline. Aileen quickly hopped out behind him, grabbed her knife, and threw it at him. The knife sank into his back, and he cried out and fell to the ground. Aileen laughed hysterically, then turned around to grab the heroshot that was still inside. She whirled back around and ran after the inkling, holding the weapon to the back of his head.

"Why?" he cried out, trying to crawl away.

"Why not? I decided I wasn't done with you just yet."

The inkling let out a small wail, desperate to get away. "Please...I have family."

"Well I guess that just sucks for them, doesn't it?" She pulled the trigger, his body going limp. She twirled the gun around her finger, humming to herself. A burst of ink shot by her, grazing her shoulder. She stumbled back, surprised, and looked in the direction it came from. Over in the treeline, she saw a small glint of something metal, and another shot was fired at her. She dodged at just the last moment, and laughed again. "Who's that over there? Come out here, coward, and at least let me see your face!"

A single inkling emerged from the forest, holding a charger. They lifted it back up and aimed at Aileen again. Aileen grit her teeth and bent down, pulling the knife out of the other inkling's back. She took it in her hand, aimed, and threw it at the other inkling. The hilt hit the side of the inkling's head, knocking them backwards. Aileen took that opportunity to run over, lifting the heroshot and firing when in range. The inkling quickly fired a shot before she arrived, which glanced off the side of her head, sending her goggles flying. Aileen emptied her ink tank on the inkling, who exploded into a puddle of ink. She then collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily and in immense pain. Shortly, she knew no more.

Aileen's eyes flew open. She felt damp, and turned her head to the side. She was lying in a puddle of ink, but didn't know where she was, or even who she was.

She sat up, looking around. She was in a small clearing, and the sun shone down on her brightly. Slowly, she stood up, and walked over to where she had parked the truck. "Where am I?" she thought aloud.

As she reached for the truck's door handle, all her memories came flooding back. From birth to present, she saw it all, and remembered it all. Horrified, she took off in the direction of the first inkling she had killed, and looked down at the corpse. She dropped to her knees, feeling her stomach churning, and threw up.

Sputtering and trembling, she wiped her mouth and rose to her feet again. She staggered over to the truck and climbed in, sobbing quietly. After a short while, she wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned the truck on. "I have to find Josiah," she said, driving away.

Character Bio

Code name: N/A

Real Name: Sergeant Christie Smith

Age: 27

Primary color: Yellow

Hobbies: anything medical, going on runs

Dislikes: unknown

Description: Christie Smith, a Sergeant in the octarian army, is a 27 year old octoling who works in the medical field. She specializes specifically in combat care, but has been known to do odd jobs here and there, like helping out with some bizarre injuries. In her free time, she enjoys running and other physical activities. She met Aileen in boot camp, and they have been close friends ever since.