"There's a lot more than I expected," Three said shakily. The din of anxious and excited conversation from the huge crowd she was about to address sounded like the roar of a massive wave coming to wash her away. She was about to venture far out of her comfort zone, into the spotlight, when she'd always remained in darkness backstage.
They were in Building 9, the largest building on the former Coast Guard base, where Scylla had been holding the information sessions. The entire base sat on the edge of Xapheerell, on the border with the neighbouring ward. Building 9 was basically a giant boat house for storing the coast guard's patrol ships and had to be abandoned due to budget cutbacks. It was part of a large complex of buildings which included barracks, enough (on paper) for their entire group, which now had a name.
"Probably over a thousand," Four agreed as she peeked through the curtain. "I really thought the gatekeeping we did would have thinned their numbers more."
"We'll see 'ow many are still there after Three's address," Scylla smirked. "Give it a week and I'm sure another 'undred or more will run back 'ome."
"We have enough space either way," Kifi said, confidently. "It was wise to have most of the octolings stay in the apartments and rotate."
"A nice demonstration of Three's budding leadership qualities," Pearl teased.
Three's mantle indicated, in no uncertain terms, that they should all shut up immediately, but that only earned a laugh. Not the most auspicious beginning for someone new to her position.
Floa went up to Three, put a hand on her head and closed her eyes. "Lords between Heaven and Earth, please hear our prayer. Grant this child the confidence, charisma, and diction to speak to this multitude so that we may fulfil your purpose for us and bring about an era of peace and prosperity. And please give the multitude assembled here the ability to understand her words and be sure of what it is they are doing. Amen."
"Amen," everyone chorused.
"Feel better?" Floa asked. Three pulsed dark-blue. "I guess."
"You know what you have to say," Pearl reassured her. "Don't worry, you got this."
Eight came behind her and began massaging her shoulders. "Don't worry, you don't get stage fright."
"How do you know?" Three demanded.
"Because you've yelled and talked in front of crowds before. Think of this as addressing your troops, not a random crowd. After all, that is what they will be."
Three's mantle turned a moody blue. "I guess that makes me feel a little better."
"Then go out and do what you need to do. You have this. You can do it." She gave Three a little peck on the cheek and a light shove towards the waiting stage platform.
Three glanced back. Four and Pearl gave her thumbs up and Scylla a nod. Steeling herself, she straightened, turned her mantle to its natural dark-green, and marched to the stage.
—-
"I can't believe you actually did it."
Foame could barely hear Wren over the buzz of the large crowd. There had to be hundreds there. Either more kids than she thought possible got their parents' blessing or they were simply pushed so far that they thought it better than being left to their own devices.
They had been crowded to the far end of the building in front of a stage platform. They were probably going to give some more speeches and presentations before things got underway.
"I managed to convince my parents," she replied slowly.
"I'm not surprised. You've been all for this from the start."
Foame frowned. "It's not that; I was just worried about everyone going off and doing something stupid, that's all."
Wren smirked. "Sure you did."
The overhead lights went out and then the stage lit up. Conversation petered off as all attention was drawn onto the solitary inkling marching her way on stage.
Scarletteri stood in the centre of the stage and cleared her throat. She carried in front of her a few papers and began to read from them.
"Thank you for coming. A lot more of you showed up than we expected, but there should be no issues accommodating you. I just have a few things to cover before we start processing you all."
Her mantle remained placid and Foame was impressed at her level of control. She'd be terrified if she had to do any public speaking. Just talking with Pearl and the others had been nerve wracking enough.
"First off, we have something to call ourselves now. For those of you who haven't heard, several wards in Inkopolis have formed a kind of coalition. This is not a seperatist group, we're still part of Calachora and fall under its authority. It's more like a committee put together to deal with the crisis and provide mutual support. I suppose you could look at it as a vindication of what you're doing. They're calling it the "Greater Bastion of Inkopolis", in honour of Xapheerell and the late Matron Sunreader.
A few excited noises came from the crowd but Foame felt a pang of worry. It might not be a seperatist movement now but if things continued to deteriorate it could easily change and become its own beast. If the nation split, Calachora would be finished and her grandmother would go down in history as the Monarch of Ruin.
"As for us," Scarletteri went on, raising her voice over the murmuring of the crowd, "we will become the Bastion Guard. Our mandate is to work towards peace with the Octarians and defend Inkopolis from any malicious force seeking to harm it that requires military force as a response. We are not security but our intention is to aid Inkopolis Security where possible to lighten their load and allow them to do their actual job."
That made Foame feel a little better. It meant that the people in charge were at least interested in cooperating with the government, even if circumstances made that difficult.
Scarletteri's expression hardened and her mantle turned byzantine purple. "We are not going to be dealing out our own brand of justice. We did not get rid of the crab gangs only to replace them with another group. You will be expected to maintain a degree of self-awareness and self-conduct. Be aware that your actions also reflect on the greater group, so infractions on your part will result in severe disciplinary action. There will be no prejudice against any species or even other inklings tolerated. You will not disrespect your superiors, you will obey orders when they are given to you, and you will not bully your fellow cadets."
The steel in her voice and gaze brought the whole crowd to total silence and Foame heard a few nervous gulps.
"This is not a club; we are running this as a military because that's what you said you wanted, because you want to be the best. I've got news for you, a lot of you won't like it because it's not going to be fun. You'll moan and complain and a lot of you will either quit, wash out, or be kicked out for one reason or another, because we don't intend to go easy on you, we intend to go hard on you and beat you into something resembling soldiers. Whether or not you become one is entirely up to you."
Her mantle darkened and blotches of red polluted the purple. "Think we're being too harsh? Take a look at the person next to you, in front of you, behind you."
Foame did as she said. Other than Wren, the people around her were total strangers, people she couldn't recall ever having seen before, even if she really might have at some point.
"I bet most of you don't even know the people standing around you. Guess what, on the battlefield, your lives are going to depend on those people. Don't you want to be sure that you will be able to count on them?"
Foame felt a chill and she shared an anxious look with Wren. They could count on each other but Scarletteri had a point. On a battlefield their lives depended on each other, and the Liberation was a recent example of how important these lessons were.
"So you're all starting from the bottom!" Scarletteri went on, raising her voice. "I don't care what turf war rank you were, how old you are, or who your parents are, you're all on the bottom and you'll have to earn your way up. If any of you have heard about what the militia's been going through you know that turf war experience does not directly translate to military experience. Just know that our methods work because they've been tested in battle. I don't need to tell you what that means, do I? Still, we will be working on new techniques and we'll primarily be focusing on combat against crab species, but there will be more traditional combat too, just in case we have to fight the Ocatvio Loyalists among the Octarians."
She let her hand holding the papers fall and she looked out over the assembled crowd. Foame unconsciously braced herself.
"I know a lot of you are having second thoughts. It hasn't been easy for any of us. I don't blame you if you want to leave and go back home, it's a natural instinct. I won't judge you if you do. People are probably telling you that you're just being irrational and stupid because you're just kids. I've had that said to me a bunch of times."
She folded her hands behind her back and her eyes hardened. "But the people who are saying that misunderstand why you're here. You're here not just because you're scared or angry; you're here because you want to do something! Your future is in jeopardy and you refuse to stand by and watch it happen without at least trying to do something about it. Even though it's frightening, even though you may end up putting your own life on the line, you still want to do your part because you found someone and something to believe in. Is that something a kid would do? No, kids go around playing games, kids don't take up the burdens of their parents and try to help forge a better future for themselves and their country."
Scarletteri's mantle turned scarlet and she stuck her chest out.
"You aren't here to play war, you're here to make a difference, to fight back and show that Calachora won't just roll over and die. We are not a species that goes out with a whimper, we fight and we survive and we win! I already said this wasn't going to be fun, that it would be hard, and that you might not make it. But if you do, if you stick it out to the end, you will be forged into a spear that nobody will be able to break!
"The Consortium might not fear our government but they will fear us! Inkling and Octarian have been enemies for ages, so imagine how frightening a force we can make when we work together. Without pulling any triggers, without spilling blood, our existence alone will make a difference in this world, and if anyone tries to test our resolve, you'll be trained well enough to take that test and shove it up their funnels. Trouble is coming to Calachora but we won't be caught unprepared. We'll be the wall that defends our country against the coming flood and nobody who sees that will be able to call us just a bunch of kids again!"
The crowd erupted into enthusiastic shouts, fists pumped the air, and the audience was a sea of scarlet. Even Foame found herself taken up by Scarletteri's words. Those had not been scripted, but words spawned by raw emotion based on her own experiences. Somehow she could just sense that.
When the crowd had quietened down, Scarletteri took up the papers again. "Alright, enough boring speeches. Officially, Marie Sansea is recognized as Supreme Commander of the Bastion Guard; however, she is a co-consul with Callie Cuttlefish, whose authority we will fall under whenever we are in Octarian territory. We will try to cooperate with the Bastion Committee but we do not answer to them. We are our own entity and we won't be bogged down by internal politics. We'll do what is right. We are nobody's tool.
"As for me, I am your commanding officer. You will address me as Executrix Scarletteri, Executrix, or Ma'am."
She gestured to an octoling that walked on stage, clearly older than her. "This is Kentarch Kifi Sungazer. She is my second in command and will be overseeing your training overall. If you aren't able to figure out how to address her by now you'd better walk out."
She waited, eyes searching the crowd to see if anyone would actually leave. When nobody did, she went on.
"It's time for all of you to be processed. For those of you wanting to focus on non-combat roles, don't worry, those will be taken care of later. For now, you will each go to one of the tables on the right, each one with a letter. Based on the first letter of your last name, you will go to one of these tables. They'll have you fill out some paperwork, assign you your serial number, and assign you quarters. I don't care if you want to share a room with your friends, you will go where you are assigned and there will be no trading rooms. Your army life starts now."
Floa ended up standing for almost an hour before she reached the table to fill out her paperwork. A lot of surnames in Calachora started with K so there were several lines in front of it.
The Octarian manning her section of the table handed her several papers, mostly regarding accepting the risks and that they gave up their right to sue them in case of injury and the like. Admittedly, she didn't read the whole thing but she got the gist of it.
After signing her papers and adding her name to a spreadsheet, she was given a slip of with a number. This was going to be her serial number and at some point she would be given a proper ID tag. For now, this was it.
She was directed to a group forming near the building's entrance. There they would wait until the group reached a certain number and then be guided to their quarters. Foame was delighted to see Wren in the group.
"I guess we're lucky," Wren said, smiling. Despite her usual tired look, there was an odd spark in her eyes.
"I guess we are. Do you know where we'll be staying?"
"No." Wren's head tilted slightly. "Isn't it interesting though, how organised this all is? They haven't had all that long to set this up."
"I know." Foame looked back the way she'd come, seeing the organised lines and tables, remembering the paperwork, the serial number she'd been given. They had figured out all these things in a week?
"Look alive!" One of the Octarians barked. "We're taking you to quarters. Stay together and follow our directions. Again, there will be no complaining about your assigned quarters or if you don't end up sharing a room with your friends."
They were led outside into the cold to one of the nearby buildings. It resembled a four-story apartment block but had a more brutalist aesthetic with small windows, thick stone walls, and absolutely no colour. The only thing to identify it from amongst its contemporaries was the faded "Building 7" painted on the outside of the building.
The first floor contained some recreational facilities and small offices. Above that, each floor was a copy of the one below it. They kept going until they reached the third floor, but even there they could hear the activity of those who arrived before them on the floors above.
"There are showers and bathrooms at both ends," their Octarian handler explained. "One is for males, the other is for females. Violating this rule will result in severe punishment, including possible expulsion. Six per room. You will be assigned in order of your serial numbers."
Floa ended up in a room in the middle of the floor while Wren ended up being one of the first assigned to a room. Foame shared hers with one other girl and four boys. It reminded her of summer camp, in a way, so at least there was some familiarity, but there was a difference between sharing a room with boys as a child and as a teenager. She wasn't about to be the first one to complain though.
The room had three sets of bunk beds arranged in a checker pattern and each set of beds was nestled into an alcove between their lockers. The arrangement allowed for the maximum use of the room's relatively small space. Foame was able to secure the bottom bunk next to the window.
They were given time to sort out their belongings. Each of them had a locker with a combination lock, much larger than the lockers one would see in high school. Foame stuffed her bag there and began sorting out her clothes on the shelves inside. She hadn't packed all that much, but she had the necessary bathroom supplies.
Soon, their Octarian handlers called them out of their rooms and they had to go back to Building 9. Other groups were already assembled there, and each seemed to be getting split into smaller groups. The handlers of Foame's own group brought them before a handful of Octarians already waiting for them, and one of them stood out from the others, dressed in a smart, green uniform with collar and epaulettes. It was like a sleeker version of military uniforms she had seen veterans wear.
Their handlers saluted this person and then swiftly departed. Whoever this was, she was clearly in charge.
"You will now be separated into your individual splatoons according to your room number," she said. Her voice was a bit more high-pitched than Foame would have expected but its commanding tone was unmistakable.
The adjutants corralled them into smaller groups, or splatoons as they called them. She spotted Wren in the first splatoon while she ended up with the rest of her roomates at the start of the second. Each splatoon had about fifty or sixty people and represented half the population of any given floor of their barracks building. Splatoons 3 and 4 were made from the people on the second floor.
"Remember which splatoon you are in," they were told. "This will be your splatoon for the duration of your training and possibly beyond. The people within your splatoon are those you will spend the most time with, the people your life will depend on at some point."
Foame swallowed hard. They were pulling no punches about what they were getting themselves into. They were clearly still trying hard to weed out the non-committed.
"I am Septain Kirmarch, you will address me as Septain, Septain Kirmarch, or Ma'am. I am the commander of Zeta Company, that is your company. You will learn more about the table of organisation at a later time but for now, you need only remember your company and splatoon. You will understand why later. All you need to know is that I am in charge of you and each of your splatoons will have its own splatoon officer and sergeant. They are in charge of your splatoons and you will obey them as you would obey me. Is anyone unclear on anything?"
Nobody spoke a word. Perhaps nobody dared. Kirmarch seemed satisfied enough though. "Very well, from here we shall take you on orientation and go over your basic schedule. We have a great deal to go over so leave any questions until the end."
Orientation involved a basic overview of how their training would proceed, a tour of the whole facility being used as their training base, and some of the basic things expected of them. The only real bumps in the process were when people groaned upon hearing how early they would have to wake up and the thought of room inspections. Kirmarch was quick to remind them that they were the ones who wanted to be made into soldiers and they had no room to complain, also that Scarletteri herself said it wouldn't be fun.
After orientation, they were brought into the mess hall, which turned out to be a cafeteria. Epsilon Company was already there eating and now it was their turn to eat. The food was being served by a mix of Octarians and parent volunteers. Foame noted how the volunteers were oddly energetic. They talked lively among themselves and to the people they were serving, bright smiles on their faces. Perhaps they felt as filled with renewed purpose as the rest of them were.
The food was hardly stellar and although she'd desperately wanted to talk to Wren, it was clear they were being encouraged to stick to their splatoons. At least the conversations were cordial enough. Some of the boys commented how impressed they were by how tough Kirmarch seemed. One of the girls wondered aloud if they would also get to wear uniforms.
After dinner, they were brought back to Building 9 to mingle as they desired. Foame was happy to be able to catch up with Wren. Wren was apparently the only girl in her room but didn't feel threatened in spite of that. She then commented on how everyone felt as though they were in some kind of dream. Everything was happening so fast and yet so smoothly that it seemed unreal.
As if to make things even more unreal, after all the training companies had arrived in Building 9, the lights dimmed and Off the Hook appeared on stage to give a little concert to encourage all the trainees. After a full day of anxiety and confusion, it was just what they needed. No doubt it was a small mercy to grant them one last bit of fun before things really turned up tomorrow. Foame wasn't looking forward to that but she felt better about her decision to join the group now, even if it had mostly been to keep an eye on things for her grandmother's sake.
After the concert, they were all given one hour of free time before lights out. A lot of the older kids weren't used to having a bedtime and they somewhat resented it. Foame decided to have a shower and brush her teeth during that last hour. The communal arrangement was a bit unusual but everyone seemed too tired and bewildered to care. After being freshened up she got dressed into her pyjamas and slipped into bed, where she lay until lights out was called by the splatoon sergeants.
Even after the lights were out, she found herself staring up at the bunk above, blankly, wondering what tomorrow would bring and if she would be able to handle it. Today had been a picnic, she knew that, but she wouldn't truly understand it until tomorrow. Just knowing that was enough to keep her awake for several hours until, mercifully, she fell into peaceful sleep. Morning would be far less peaceful.
—-
Avrika could feel the prickly tension in the room crackling against her skin, despite nobody having said a word. She sat in one of the spare chairs for guests, on call in case her opinion or knowledge were somehow needed. Perhaps Lady Octavia and Lord Hobber hoped she would be able to smooth over any bumps.
The faces of the councillors on both sides of the Ravalda were grim and serious. There was no elation on the Reformist faction's side and no disdain on the Loyalist side. It was as if everyone was waiting before making up their minds on whether Callie was to be welcomed or not. Only Lady Octavia seemed perfectly at ease in her seat above and behind the Lord Speaker.
The Lord Speaker ended the silence with a deliberate cough and lightly banged his gavel. "Well, if we are all assembled, I hereby call this meeting of the Ravalda Imperium to order. Our first item is to welcome our new kravah." He said the words with a degree of apprehension she had never heard from him before. Small wonder. No Inkling had ever set foot in the building before, and now one was being welcomed as a noble.
The guards on the inside of the chamber opened the doors leading into it. There was only shadow on the other side, until a huge, black shape emerged through the doorway into the light of the council chamber.
The corridor wasn't big even for an octoling, so it was a miracle Callie was even able to crawl through it. Despite how undignified it should have looked for Callie to come crawling out like that, she seemed to defy expectations.
Her massive tentacles emerged first, their great length a preview of the rest of her as they hit the floor with a powerful bang that shook the dust off every surface in the room. Flexing with thick sinew ropes, they pulled her into the chamber until her arms emerged, wide-spread hands planting themselves on the floor, allowing the rest of her body to pivot at her shoulders and swing her lower half out of the corridor in a swirl of black and magenta fabric. In a single motion, she stood to her full, towering height, looking down on even those sitting in the highest seats.
The council members looked on with a mix of awe and terror as they had to tilt their heads back to see the face of the dome's newest resident. Callie's natural magnitude of presence were multiplied by her new size and the style of her clothing, which was somehow only slightly dirty from her trip through the tight hallway.
Callie took a single, room shaking step towards the speaker, bowed then iterated a greeting in perfect Octese. "I greet you, Ravalda Imperium of the Octarian Empire. I pray for warm summers and bountiful harvests for all and that the gods will whisper wisdom and guidance into your ears. May we have a productive meeting and leave with the satisfaction that we have done our duty."
The words rang with ceremony and tradition. Avrika wondered if, perhaps, it had once been a customary greeting amongst the Octarian nobility. Did Inkopolis have resources that allowed her to discover that? Callie, it seemed, knew more about Octarian history than many of them did.
"The Ravalda greets you in turn," the Lord Speaker said. "Let this first meeting plant seeds that grow into tall, fruitful trees that bring glory to the Empire and to the Sovereign God, who rules us all."
The Lord Speaker paused for a moment, then nodded subtly to Lady Octavia, who stood and addressed Callie next.
"Lady Callabria Cuttlefish, you have been recognized by the Empire as a kravah and have been appointed to the position of Legate. These titles and duties were given to you under prior leadership but it has been decided that these will be upheld, thus you are granted all the rights and responsibilities you are due. You have been brought before this Ravalda to explain how you will contribute to the betterment of the Empire and the lives of the Octarian people."
Callie bowed her head. "I thank you, Dictatrix. I actually have many ideas and proposals to get the ball rolling on getting the nation on the path to recovery. With the Lord Speaker's permission, I'd like to bring in a couple of assistants to assist with my presentation."
Octavia glanced down at the speaker then assumed her seat. The Lord speaker then nodded.
"You may."
He nodded to the door guards who passed the message along.
Without waiting for her assistants to appear, Callie opened her arms towards the councillors and resumed speaking. "One of my ideas is to help establish more of an economy and start creating Octarian businesses. I have a project in mind that would involve selling Octarian produced clothing in Calachora."
Lady Protor raised her hand. "But we don't have any kind of trade agreement with Calachora. How would we do this?"
"The Octarian Empire does not need a trade agreement in this case because it has me now. I am also a Calachoran citizen, after all, and I own several Calachoran businesses already, including one that produces clothing. If I could establish a branch here, we could sell Octarian designed and produced clothing for sale back in Calachora."
"But is there a demand for such a thing?" Lord Hobber asked. "As I understand, peace is still a contentious issue in Calachora right now."
"Only with a very small minority. As for demand," Callie grinned. "I've already taken five-thousand orders."
He gaped. "Five-thousand orders? Without even having established anything?"
"Not without. The garments have already been designed by one of the Octarians in Inkopolis who has been learning fashion under an already established and successful designer. She's updated a few traditional designs. My plan is to sell them in time for the beginning of summer, so late spring."
Two of Callie's attendants appeared carrying a pair of large duffel bags. Putting them down, they opened the bags up, revealing stacks of paper bundles, which they began handing out to the councillors as Callie continued.
"As you can see, the design evokes some older, more traditional Octarian clothing. It's a fancier form of the uniform used by the waitresses at the Octarian restaurant we've already established in Inkopolis."
"But where would you get the materials to fulfil such an order?" Lord Bodov asked. "We barely have enough for our own needs."
"That's something you don't have to worry about, Lord Bodov; that would be the responsibility of my company. We'd simply purchase the materials from Calichoran businesses, transport them to our branch facility, and manufacture the garments there. Another upshot of this is that it would give an opportunity for the Octarian workers to learn how to use some modern equipment."
"But you advertised that these garments would be hand made by Octarian artisans," Hobber pointed out.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean those will be the only garments being produced, and we would be able to manufacture clothing for the Empire's own needs as well, which means they'll be made more efficiently and with less labour than right now."
Lord Bodov's eyes lit up with possibilities. Managing labour was one of his biggest headaches so of course he would be excited about some of it being freed up for other purposes.
"In addition, we would be paying taxes to the Octarian government. Since we lack our own currency it would be in Calachoran bills, but most of our trading and purchasing would be with Calachora anyway so having that foreign currency would be useful."
"I think you're skipping something important," Lord Bodov pointed out. "Where are you going to make this factory the clothes will be built in?"
Callie's smile took on a different nature, like a hunter whose prey had just come into her proverbial net. "I'm glad you asked. You see, I intended to build an entirely new building… on the surface."
Startled, everyone stared at her, mouths falling open. Callie quickly explained. "Yes, technically most of the surface land is owned by Calachora, except directly over the domes, which it is not advisable to build on. But, there's no reason I can't purchase the land since I am a Calichoran citizen."
"That land is rightfully ours!" Lord Glittermine snapped, slamming his fist down. "It isn't theirs to decide whether to sell or not. I don't care what the treaty says."
Callie's bright smile didn't fade. "I agree."
The whole Ravalda was suddenly stilled. Nobody had expected that response. Even Stonefeller was stunned into silence.
"In fact, I doubt true peace could realistically be obtained with Calachora as long as we are forced to remain in the domes, but as my team was researching which plot of land might be purchased, we found something interesting." She looked directly at Lady Protor. "Remember what I said about paying taxes to our government? Probably wouldn't make sense if the land was owned by Calachora but, in actuality, that's something rather debatable in terms of international law."
Protor frowned and leaned towards her with interest. "What do you mean?"
One of Callie's assistants handed her a few papers from her bag.
"Well, according to the terms of the treaty, the Octarian Empire surrendered all lands except for those around the domes, as war reparations, but because Calichora wasn't exactly in a good state either after the war and the population has actually gone down a little bit, they never expanded into our former lands. We discovered that, according to international law, if Calichora has failed to occupy and develop the land by now, then that land is now disputed territory, which means we can argue that they have forfeited that part of the treaty, and the land can be made ours once again."
Everyone stared at her, stunned. Even Avrika was slack jawed. Reclaiming their lost land was one of the big dreams of their people, to live on the surface again and rebuild their lost civilization. Octavio had spent a century planning for how they would get it back and failed twice to conquer Inkopolis in the attempt. Now, Callie might have just handed it to them on a silver platter.
All eyes turned to Lady Protor as she quickly scanned the documents Callie had given her.
"That does seem to be what the law says," she said slowly. "But I don't know how much might have been lost in translation and I need time to examine it thoroughly."
"I can give you the original copy in Inklish whenever you wish," Callie said. "I hope the Ravalda will forgive me if I get your hopes too high, but I think I would be derelicting my duty if I didn't bring it up."
Lord Stonefeller huffed. "What do you know about duty?"
Callie slowly turned her head to face him and Avrika felt the whole room spike with tension as the two locked gazes.
"Excuse me?"
If Stonefeller was at all intimidated by Callie's size, he didn't show it, glaring unwaveringly right back at her. Avrika wondered if his hatred for inklings was just that much stronger than his sense of self-preservation. Or maybe he's just that arrogant.
"You come into this Ravalda, speaking of lofty ideas and goals, speaking of duty, but do you actually know what that means? It means devotion to one's vocation, to the Empire and personal sacrifice, if necessary. You have done nothing to show you are even of that; all you've done so far is fill everyone's heads with sky high dreams and false hopes to try and win favour with us, you who have been one of the greatest enemies of the Empire!"
The Lord Speaker banged his gavel hard, about to give the Lord of Public Security a stern rebuke but Callie raised her hand in a holding motion, her eyes never veering away from Stonefeller.
"You haven't given me a chance yet. I have proven I can make things happen as a legate already. Are you saying I can't be trusted to do my duty without hypnosis?"
Stonefeller rose to his feet, face flushed with anger. "I refuse to trust any inkling to do anything! Don't think we've forgotten how hedonistic your people have always been. We've sacrificed so many lives for the sake of saving our nation; not something I think you're capable of understanding. What would you or any inkling know of sacrifice?"
Callie's expression darkened and wisps of red like tongues of flame appeared in her mantle. Avrika felt a horrible chill as Callie's eyes narrowed.
"What do I know of sacrifice? Tell me, Councillor, do you know what it's like to have worked all day in a warehouse, then going to perform on a stage in a mall across the city, to be so exhausted mentally and physically that you're going to collapse if you don't get some sleep, only to find out that you have to go out and fight because some octolings are trying to make off with someone else's radio tower?"
She took a single step towards him, making the room physically tremble. "Do you have any idea how many great opportunities, how many vacations, dates, hangouts, friendships, and family time I've had to sacrifice, how much of my precious little freetime I had to give up because your STUPID, POINTLESS WAR?"
Callie's yell caused the walls and ceiling to shiver, causing dust to fall. Everyone in the room sat frozen like small fish in a shark tank, afraid to utter a single peep lest they interfere with the confrontation. The councillors sitting around or near Lord Stonefeller scooted away as Callie loomed closer to him.
"I know the Octarian people have suffered hardship while I've lived in luxury, Councillor, but don't think for a minute that my life was any kind of picnic either. And you can't lecture me about sacrifice either. You can't sacrifice anything if you have nothing to sacrifice in the first place!
"I know all members of the army are prepared and willing to give up their lives for their people." she leaned in closer, her golden eyes glaring down on him like angry suns. "Octarian mothers have been forced to give up their children, the joy of mothering and nurturing them to maturity. Callie was now leaning directly over him, her mantle dark red, her pupils little more than paper-thin slits. She brought her voice down low, just loud enough for everyone to hear her say, "what have you ever sacrificed?"
Stonefeller seemed to shrivel as if suddenly drained of moisture. His eyes were wide, his complexion a deathly pale, even his tentacles had lost almost all trace colour. The otoliths of everyone in the room were being hammered with the drumbeats of their own pounding hearts as they watched and waited anxiously.
"I'm going to do everything I can to save the Octarian nation, Lord Stonefeller, even if I have to drag it up the whole way, and I'm not going to let you or anyone else stand in my way. If you don't trust me or doubt me, that's fine; I'll do with you what I've done with every other naysayer in my career: bury you with my accomplishments until you suffocate and expire!"
Callie emitted one last, rumbling growl before she straightened and made her way back to the centre of the room, ordering her assistants to start handing out more papers as if nothing happened.
"Getting back on track, the Dicatrix's vertical farm project shows a lot of promise. As it happens, I personally know an expert on indoor farming who I would like to bring in to provide consultation."
Callie went on about various ideas, future projects and things that could be done to improve life in the domes and the lifestyles of Octarians, but Avrika was only dimly aware. Her eyes kept drifting back to Stonefeller who, very slowly, began to recover to what he probably thought had been a close brush with death. After his many insults and criticisms of the Army, Avrika couldn't help the immense feeling of satisfaction bubbling in her chest, but more than that, she felt a kind of elation.
Avrika and some of the Reformists had been worried Callie would be eaten alive in the Ravalda's environment, particularly wary of how the Loyalists might tear into her. Seeing her be the one doing the tearing had been shocking but also inspiring.
Avrika hadn't met many leaders who could instil hope and have such an inspiring sense of determination and energy. As she listed off idea after idea for how to improve life in the domes, how to pull their people up from the brink, how she called them her people, it was like Callie's radiant energy was being absorbed by almost everyone else in the room, even some of the Loyalists.
She felt as if she were in a dream. She and every Octarian had dreamed of their nation becoming ascendant once again, free from the domes, free to live happy, fulfilling lives, but this was the first time Avrika felt that they had a genuine opportunity dangling in front of them, and Callie had been the one to bring it within their reach. Now, she felt more sure than ever that this path had been the right one.
Her hand went up and rubbed the pendant hiding under her clothes. Wait just a little bit longer, children. Mommy's helping to make a better world for you. And she now felt she truly was.
—-
Kirtchen Spiraltail tapped his claw on his desk impatiently as he stared across it at Patriarch Germy Keeper.
Clicking his mandibles, he said, "I admit I'm surprised it was you Brentuk said might be able to assist me."
Keeper kept his face expressionless, his mantle perfectly even. "I'm not going to pretend I'm any friend of the Consortium, Ambassador, only that we have a greater enemy, and at the very least, that we might be able to come to an agreement that leaves you out of Calichora and wasting more of your resources."
Spiraltail hid his contempt, not that most inklings could understand the subtleties of crab facial expressions any more than he could understand their irritating colour language. Still, it wouldn't hurt to avoid getting rusty.
"Well then, you agree that preventing any notion of peace between the Octarians and Calachora is in the best interest of both our nations."
"There can be no genuine peace with Octarians. At least with you, there's a chance for peace."
"Certainly possible, but the way the public has reacted that doesn't seem likely."
"Most of the public is naive and complacent. If anything, Orvenii's done almost too good a job keeping the country out of trouble over her tenure. They don't know any better. All we need is a way to change their minds and I was told you have some information that might do that."
Spiraltail clicked his mandibles. Keeper was a capable leader, in his own right, but he was also clearly out of touch. Callie and Marie had an unfortunately tight grasp on the masses and most considered them either heroes or at least up and coming leaders. Of course, even many of those people had some suspicious notions about them and all it should take to turn that seed of suspicion into a strangling vine, was a little judicious watering and a little manure.
"It might, depending on how stubborn and zealous some of your young people are to their idols. At the very least, it should shake things up."
He pushed a large folder across the desk towards him and Keeper eyed it with interest.
"If you want to give people a more recent reason not to trust the Octarians, something that will expose something Callie and Marie have been trying to hide, and thus cast doubt on everything they've said and done, this should do the trick."
Keeper stared at him again. The barest hint of suspicion that Spiraltail could make out from his many years among inklings indicated caution. After he opened the file and began to read however, the expressions on his face were far more amusing.
Author's Notes:
For being the kind of person who doesn't like giving speeches, Three got a little carried away there, and maybe she got just a little bit nervous.
So, Three is now in command of the Bastion Guard. She uses the Octarian rank of Executrix, which is roughly equivalent to an Army Colonel or a Navy Captain. In the current Octarian Army, there is only one executrix, who is effectively in command of the entire fighting army of active troops. Due to the Octarian's limited resources, they can't usually afford to have more than a battalion or so active at any one time.
In earlier drafts, the Bastion Guard was just the name given to the fighting force Callie and Marie managed to put together to fight off the Consortium and didn't want the name of Work Detail to be synonymous with it as Work Detail was a non-profit group that had nothing to do with combat, and they had to call the group something, especially as it didn't just include the octolings from Work Detail.
Much of what I wrote about the process Foame and the others go through here on their first day is based on my own experiences as a Cadet. First day tends to involve a lot of administration and confusion as people learn the rules and where everything is. Takes about a week for the full routine to firmly ingrane itself.
Earlier drafts also had the Bastion Guard forming much later, but I had to move it up a fair bit as there wouldn't be enough time to realistically get them to the point I needed for things I had planned for later in the story.
Callie's introduction to the Ravalda is a scene that went through a lot of different iterations. In the first iteration, before Three was put in command of the Bastion Guard, Callie would, at some point, have Three come down from the rafters above and scare the crap out of the Loyalists in the room (partially by kissing Stonefeller's cheek with the bottom of her shoe). While it was fun, it seemed more like something Marie would do and didn't fit Callie's personality. On top of that it came off as way too hostile and neither Callie nor Marie would want to compromise Octavia's authority. Callie wants to instill hope in the Octarian people, not fear.
