Callie and Marie burst through the front doors of the hospital, ignoring the signs saying not to run or jog on the premises. The small crowd in the waiting room gaped as they passed by, but the two paid them no heed as they hurried to the reception desk. Under the circumstances, perhaps Marie could be forgiven for being rather curt when she walked up to the desk of the starstruck receptionist and asked – demanded really, to know where Craig Cuttlefish was.
Had Callie been in a less agitated state herself, she would have felt sorry enough for the receptionist to ask Marie to calm down and address her more gently. Unfortunately for the beleaguered, middle-aged inkyora behind the desk, neither of them were in a particularly sympathetic mood.
Eventually, the receptionist gathered her wits enough to tell them to go to the emergency waiting room and point to the red trimmed double doors down the corridor. Marie uttered a quick "thanks" before they walked briskly on their way.
Green panels on the floor indicated the areas people were meant to walk, with the middle of the hallway reserved for hospital personnel and the paramedics. As they walked on, Callie's mind raced, wondering, fearing what she would learn and hear once they reached the end. Was Gramps conscious? Dead? Alive? If he was dead, then what would happen to the NSS? Would one of them take over? How would they manage that with their busy schedules?
There was also the question of what had happened to put Gramps in the hospital in the first place? Three's emergency text message was vague, which could only mean she didn't have an answer to those things either. Her anxiety reached its peak as she passed the threshold into the emergency ward waiting room, where they would find out one way or another.
The room was mercifully empty, and quiet, not another soul present save for a single nurse behind the desk, and a small, black and gloomy-blue form curled into a ball in the furthest corner of the room.
Aggravation and questions were immediately shoved to the side as burgeoning maternal instincts buoyed to the top and had the two girls leaping over rows of chairs and a potted plant to reach their distressed little sister.
"Three! Three, baby, are you okay?" Callie spoke urgently but she hoped she didn't sound panicked. Three, normally so quick to respond, only curled into a tighter ball.
Marie sat on the chair next to her and started gently stroking her head. Three's mantle was a holcaust of her natural green mixed with the gloomiest blues, with dark reds, greys, and even blacks tossed in for good measure. It resembled what Callie thought the skies during the apocalypse must have looked like.
Marie began humming a familiar song. Callie joined in the humming, harmonizing with Marie as the melody rose and Three, slowly began to lift her head, revealing a pair of eyes blue and swollen from excessive crying.
Callie put her hands on Three's knees while Marie retrieved a tissue from her purse, using it to clean up Three's stained face.
"It's my fault," she finally squeaked. "It's all my fault."
"Three," Callie said,very softly, patting her knee. "Just tell us what happened."
Three's lip quivered and Callie flashed back to that time two years ago, finding the same poor, frightened, and confused girl hiding in an old pipe in the wasteland. Three had come a very long way since those days, but she was still a teenager with a lot of difficult emotions, one who already knew the pain of losing a loved one and didn't care to relive it.
With Marie finished, she and Callie carefully lifted Three off her chair and sat down with her on one of the couches. After another minute of trying to hold back tears, Three told them what happened.
Three's report was pretty much exactly that. Except for the sniffling and the hoarse voice, she delivered in the same professional and direct manner she did when reporting on the results of a mission.
Four arrived in the middle of her report. Marie put her on her lap and held her tightly as Three told them what had happened when she realized the Captain hadn't moved since she'd left.
Callie's guts twisted horribly the entire length of the story until Three revealed that Gramps had been weak and unconscious, but alive. Callie did notice her omit something however, in the way her mantle rippled a furious red just before she mentioned taking him down the grate to Shromacci Misto then calling an ambulance.
"It's my fault, it's my fault."
"Shhhh," Callie wrapped her long tentacles around her, swaddling the younger girl. "It's not your fault. As tired as he's been lately, it's easy to imagine his routine breaking up with some extra naps. Besides, it was our job to look after his health, not yours, and you still recognized the problem in the end, didn't you?"
"But what if I was too late? What if something awful happens just because it took an extra hour?"
"Don't think about that," Marie said firmly. "Where is Gramps now?"
"I'm afraid he's in surgery."
All four girls turned as a pink inkyora in green hospital scrubs approached them. Her mantle was solid and completely under control, an image of professionalism mixed with a carefully measured degree of understanding and sympathy.
"How's Gramps?" Callie asked, her voice breaking just a little bit.
"I'm afraid your grandfather suffered serious cardiac arrest," the doctor reported. "One of his hearts stopped completely and he is about to go into the OR to get it removed.
Callie and Marie both took a sharp intake of air. They could also feel Three quiver between them at the news. The doctor went on.
"We'll be doing some replumbing to make sure he can survive on his remaining two hearts; although, they aren't in the best of shape either. He is clearly suffering from overstress and hypertension. To be honest, unless something changes very soon, I'm afraid he won't be on this Earth with you much longer."
Callie found herself holding Marie's hand tightly. The doctor listed problem after problem, each one like a nail in a coffin for their beloved grandfather.
When the doctor had finished, she gave the girls a few moments to process the information before speaking again.
"We've been noticing some similar problems with many of the other war veterans, where their bodies seem older than their chronological age might suggest. It's especially prevalent among the inkyar."
"But I thought many of the veterans seemed younger than normal," Marie said.
"It all depends on how well they adapted to life after the war. Those who adapted better generally have better health."
The doctor pulsed green, with a pattern and body language that indicated she hadn't wanted to upset them with that particular statistic. They communicated their gratitude for her consideration in return.
"I'm afraid I have to insist he be put into a professional care home. I know he probably won't like it and you won't like having to deal with it, but it is my professional opinion that it is necessary."
Marie managed a tiny smirk. "Even with only two hearts, I doubt any care home is going to keep him in. Anyway, that's up to our parents."
"Ah, are they on their way?"
"They should be, but they're both outside the city and won't be here until tomorrow at least."
"That's fine. I'm afraid you probably won't be able to see him until then either, assuming he regains consciousness. I recommend you all go home and take care of each other. If anything happens we'll keep you informed." She gestured to the desk at the back of the room. "Just give the nurse your information."
The four girls bowed their heads and displayed light-green in gratitude. The doctor then excused herself, heading back into the emergency ward.
Marie gave the nurse her mother's contact information then the four of them left together, heading to the parking lot.
Callie held one of Three's hands while Four held the other. None of them spoke until they all climbed into the car and Marie turned around.
"Three, where is the letter?"
Three opened her jacket and removed the badly crumpled tan sheet, handing it to her. Marie glanced it over quickly and then handed it to Callie.
"They think we're joking," Marie said, a dark edge to her voice.
"They've been listening to Octavio's sludge for a century. I would be more surprised if they did believe us right off the bat. At least this is an indication they're willing to communicate at all."
"We'll just have to make it abundantly clear what we're offering them." Marie started the car and started driving them out of the parking lot. "With Gramps definitely retiring this time, we're all there is, and we can't keep this up. They want proof, fine, we'll give them proof."
She glanced at Callie, her eyes holding a hidden message that only the two of them could interpret. They both knew what was at stake and what they would have to do if this didn't work.
"Tomorrow," Callie said. "Right now we aren't going to be able to think straight. Tonight is time to be with the family."
Marie, and the others in her chosen family all flashed green.
Avrika covered a yawn as she stepped into the command centre. The engineers had rigged a new ventilation system for their computers that allowed them to draw in air from outside, making the falling temperatures actually beneficial for them. It wasn't enough to stop the command centre from feeling stuffy, and the fans added some noise, but it was better than it had been before.
As per routine, she checked for any night reports, but there were none. Hardly surprising given the weather. She wondered if establishing this surface outpost was even worth it as things outside continued to deteriorate. Many of her troops had been caught trying to sleep in the much warmer command centre instead of the barracks. She even found a few in a sitting position on the floor of the main control room when she arrived, blocking the way. She couldn't bear to wake them, at least not this time.
She went to the small desk in the corner where various electronic reports awaited her on her terminal. Nothing major, not even any messages from the Revalda. Just inventory, food consumption levels, and a few requisition requests. Same old tedious busy work.
Latria arrived shortly after her, eyes still clinging to the vestiges of sleep, something that had been difficult for all of them to come by over the last while. Avrika doubted she was able to hide her own exhaustion anymore either. Even so, Latria was letting it show a bit too easily.
"Novem Altern Steelarm!" Avrika's sharp tone cut through the younger officer's drowsiness and woke her up.
"Ah! Yes, Ma'am."
She beckoned Latria closer and then spoke in a whisper. "It is bad for morale if the troops see the officers losing sleep from worry."
Latria gulped and her tentacles twisted. "My-my apologies, Septain. I-I admit it has been difficult to sleep."
"We're all tired, but we at least need to look like things are under control. We have to act confident and be reassuring to the troops or morale will fall." Even further than it already has, she didn't add. "What are you worried about, exactly? If the inklings wanted us dead, they would have done so already."
Latria bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder to make sure none of the others in the command centre were close enough to hear their whispers over the ventilation fans.
"I'm not as concerned about the inklings directly as much as I am about our future. It's not as if we're in a position to make any demands of them. They have all the advantages. Honestly, why would they bother with all this? Not knowing the answer makes me… worry, I suppose."
Avrika couldn't blame her for that. After all, the Ravala Imperium had the same sort of questions, hence the whole reason for their letter to the inklings in the first place. Part of her task was to learn something – anything, about the inklings and what might motivate them to pursue this route. Right now, however, her all too young second-in-command needed reassurance, and so Avrika casually shrugged her tentacles.
"Perhaps the inklings have things going on behind the scenes that we don't know about yet. On the other hand, perhaps they're just a little anxious about pushing to the core domes. Even with Agent 3, taking those domes through the narrow access corridors would be a nightmare once the main access routes were collapsed. Even she can't go anywhere she pleases."
Latria was halfway through a nod when the door opened. Avrika thought it was probably someone else coming in to get out of the cold. She wanted to be flexible and give the troops a modicum of comfort, but there had to be limits. She was about to rebuke the soldier as they came in, only for her voice to die in her throat, as the devil herself drifted through the doors and into the room like a cloud of smoke.
Latria let out a pitiful squeak and leaned fearfully away, bending herself half backwards over Avrika's desk. The two troops watching the monitors gaped, turned ghostly pale and then fell to their knees, mumbling off every prayer they knew.
Latria felt strangely calm seeing the bane of Octarian existence marching towards her in her own command centre. Something was different about her this time. The slight hint of fragility she had seen in her before was gone, replaced with firm purpose and an aura of simmering fury.
"Welcome to my command centre," Avrika heard herself say.
Agent 3 stopped in front of the desk, her weapon pointed roughly in Latria's direction as she reached into her reflective jacket and pulled out a folded slip of crisp white paper, tossing it casually onto Avrika's desk.
Avrika took in a sharp breath, excitement and anticipation filling her. This was it, the reply they had been hoping for! With great care, Avrika grasped the paper and unfolded it. As she started to skim it's contents she glanced up to Agent 3 – only to find her gone, as suddenly as she'd come.
Latria let out a soft whimper and slid down onto the floor. Her face was now a sickly pallor and she was starting to hyperventilate.
"Get a hold of yourself, soldier," Avrika snapped. "All of you!"
The others snapped up to attention, their prayers concluded for the time being. Those who had been sleeping in the room suddenly snapped awake, looking around and wondering what was happening.
"Anyone who's not supposed to be here, get out," Avrika barked. "If you still have off-duty time, use it to figure out a way to make the barracks warmer."
Once the formerly sleeping troops scrambled out of the room, Avrika walked around her desk and knelt next to Latria.
"Are you alright?"
Latria took a moment to calm her breathing and wet her lips before replying. "I have never been so terrified in all my life."
"I'm sure you're not alone in that." She glanced at the two troopers who were, thankfully, occupied with watching the monitors once more, no doubt trying to be ready with an answer when their commanding officer inevitably asked them how Agent 3 had gotten into their command centre, never mind their outpost, without being detected.
As Avrika stood, a white-faced trooper burst into the control room. "Se-septain, I beg to report."
Avrika tensed, deeply afraid of what she was about to hear. "What is it?"
"Th-the demon she- she was here and… she-she wiped out all of our octotroopers."
Avrika flinched, a sense of dread suddenly weighing down on her. "All of them? Just now?"
"W-well, I saw her walk out of the base so I assumed it was her."
Avrika clenched her jaw. That meant Agent 3 had killed all of the octotroopers before entering the command centre. If she had been in a foul mood upon entering the command centre, she would have hated to see her before she spent some of that anger on those octotroopers. She cared little about them but members of the Ravalda might take exception to a supposed peace offering being preceded by the slaughtering of dozens of octotroopers. Or maybe that was the point.
"Are you alright, Ma'am?" The trooper asked.
"I'm fine. Agent 3 was just paying us a friendly visit."
She tried to act nonchalant, hoping it would reassure her subordinates that the situation was well in hand and they had nothing to worry about, but the way the trooper blanched it looked like it had the opposite effect.
Sighing, Avrika grasped the paper again and slipped it into a safe place in her uniform.
"Novem Altern," she snapped. Her second-in-command jumped to her feet and came to attention by reflex.
"Ma'am!"
"Prepare to take over the base once again. I have to go and deliver this message, in person, to the Executrix. Let's hope peace still has a chance."
Eight shielded her eyes as she stepped off the bus. The wind kicked sand and debris in her face. The breeze off Inkopolis bay had been steadily increasing throughout the day and was strongly felt as buildings channelled the wind along streets.
Rex's Garage sat a short distance away. More octolings than ever were bustling about the property, busy with one task or another. Rex had been one of the first to hire octolings and help fulfill Work Detail's mandate to find permanent work for the Octarians in Inkopolis. Apparently his shop always got a large spike in business in the fall when people prepared their vehicles for winter. It seemed the season was as hard on machines as it was on people.
Eight calmly walked onto the property, feeling slightly self-conscious of her spotless, fashionable coat, much higher quality and newer than anything her fellow Octarians were wearing. It was a hand-me-down from Marina, so she didn't feel as much guilt over it as she would have otherwise. Certainly, no octoling was a stranger to hand-me-downs.
Along the wall that separated the property from the rest of the block was a line of small garages that could be rented out to people who didn't have one and thus allow them to work on their own cars. Tools could be rented out as well.
Eight made a beeline for one that had its door slightly open and briefly switched to octopus form to sip under the door. Inside, it was still cool but without the chilly breeze it felt much warmer. A single, small, old, red car occupied the space, most of its exterior panels removed and lined along the walls with tremendous care. Much of its interior had been stripped out and stored in protective containers elsewhere.
She heard the sound of metal on metal contact and soft grunts of someone working underneath the car. Smiling, Eight gently pushed the foot sticking out behind the front driver's side wheel with her own. There was another soft grunt and then a burgundy inkling slid out from underneath, brows deeply furrowed and red eyes hard as glass. They softened when their gazes met, and her burgundy mantle returned to its natural green.
"I thought I would find you here."
Three averted her gaze and started to slip back under the car. "I'm busy."
Eight knelt down and grabbed Three's foot, yanking her out again. "You are upset. I can tell."
"I'm fine," Three grumbled.
"No you are not." Eight sighed and held out a thermos. "I brought you some soup. I thought you would have skipped lunch."
Three's mantle flickered with pink as she eyed the thermos and looked somewhat indignantly at Eight. Eight's insistent expression eventually caused Three to cave and she slowly reached out and accepted the thermos. She had a guilty look on her face that Eight couldn't help but find endearing.
"I heard what happened to Captain Cuttlefish."
Three's mantle formed blobs of pink that started moving across its surface mixed with sour blues. "That is why I knew you would be upset. You were not answering my texts so I thought I would find you here."
Three's ears drooped and her mantle turned a dark-purple. "Sorry. I never heard my phone go off."
"So you have been here a long time then."
Eight removed one of her gloves and gently began stroking the top of Three's head, feeling the smooth surface of her girlfriend's mantle. "I suspected that seeing Captain Cuttlefish in that way must have reminded you of your mother."
Three held the thermos in both hands and stared down at it, her body tensing up. "I haven't worked as much on the car lately just because I've been so busy."
"And you felt guilty about that too, I suppose." Eight smiled sympathetically and gently turned Three's head so that their foreheads could touch.
"The car is not going anywhere. You have already done very well considering your lack of experience, even with the help of Rex."
"I guess," Three muttered. "I just… I just don't want to lose anyone again. Mama and Iya, I never met their parents because they ran away from home. I only know Daddy's parents. The captain was – is like a grandfather I was supposed to have but never did."
"I would not know," Eight shrugged. "I believe my grandparents would have died a long time ago. I doubt I ever would have met them even if they had not."
Three's mantle flickered with bright pink and gloomy blue. "Sorry."
"Nothing for you to apologize for; not to me and not for what happened to the captain. I do not know the specifics but, knowing you, I am sure you feel somehow responsible."
Three shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet Eight's eyes. "I knew him sleeping like that was unusual. I should have checked on him first thing."
"It was a perfectly reasonable thing to let him sleep. You knew he was working himself too hard. Four told me that she kept finding him utterly exhausted. You made a perfectly reasonable decision based on what you knew." She let Three's head go and then pressed their cheeks together.
"You know what I think is really bothering you is that you made a mistake."
Three flinched and turned her head away, her fingers tightening around the thermos. "You are not used to making mistakes; Agent 3 is not supposed to make mistakes. That is what you have been thinking, is it not?"
Eight took one of Three's tentacles bulbs in her lap and began stroking it like one might a small animal, but Three didn't react.
"Cortina," she said softly, "are I not someone with whom you can be yourself? You do not need to be perfect for me or try to impress me. Nobody expects that of you."
Three's mantle pulsed grey and then it morphed into a strange pattern of dark blues, light blues, and bright pinks.
"How do you know me so well?"
Eight giggled. "Because I love you."
"But I love you too, and I don't think I know you as well as you do me."
"I do not mind. I suppose we octolings are simply more complex creatures." She winked and Three's mantle flashed burgundy.
"So? What do you think I should be doing then, if you're so advanced?"
"Well, perhaps instead of moping under the car, you can go on a date with me. It has been some time since we have gone anywhere with only the two of us and I believe you could use the distraction, no?"
Three's mantle rippled as she considered it. They moved and changed colour so quickly that Eight couldn't identify all the colours before it settled back to native green.
"Alright," she said. "I'll take you to the 'Shromo."
"Cheapskate. I know you get a discount there."
"So do you," Three grinned back. "Besides, it's where you want to go, right?"
Eight's eyes glimmered. "Perhaps you know me better than you thought."
Three stood up and took a moment to wipe her hands clean with some nearby shop towels before grabbing her coat, saying: "You are just full of wisdom today, aren't you. Been watching talk shows again?"
Eight blushed and averted her gaze. "H-how did you know?"
Three grinned smugly and took Eight's hand. "Because I love you."
Four was not in the best of moods. She knew most people considered her to be the upbeat and positive type, and generally, that's what she was happy to be, but there were days when even she didn't have it in her to be happy. But, as Three herself once said, happiness wasn't necessary for the NSS to do what needed to be done, and so, there she was at yet another job site with Work Detail and Cricket squad.
This was their third job together and at this point, Four was almost having to jab them with a sharp stick to get them to do the slightest amount of work, as if they were determined to make their time there as miserable as possible, by dragging out every job. Especially after the text she got earlier, she really didn't have the spare patience for this.
"What's the problem now?" Four sighed.
"What do you mean, 'what's the problem?'" Gangrin demanded. "We moved all the stuff."
Cricket's first job of the day was to gather and organize various construction materials from an abandoned construction site. Four had decided to start with the bricks since they would be easy to deal with and Cricket could get started while she went through the work-start meeting with the other squad leaders, allowing her to get a head start. She didn't think it was possible to mess up an instruction like "stack all the bricks on that pallet." She was proven wrong.
"You didn't stack them, you just tossed them in a pile over the pallet. Most of them aren't even on the palet."
"Same thing," Marsh grumbled. "What difference does it make?"
"A big difference!" Four couldn't believe she had to explain this. A little kid could comprehend this.
"If you stack the bricks properly on the pallet, then you can move all the bricks at once, like onto a truck or some other part of the site, without having to pick up all the bricks separately, again, which takes more time."
Marsh huffed. "Who cares?"
"You will when we have to load them on the truck tomorrow to get taken away. Now you've just given yourself more work."
"I'm not doing the same job twice."
"You wouldn't have to if you did it properly the first time."
Four ground her beak. She couldn't believe she was having to explain this to someone her own age. How thick were these kids? They had to be doing it on purpose. Nobody could be this dumb.
Four took several deep breaths and forced herself to come back under control.
"Anyway, no point in arguing. Please just stack it properly now."
Marsh huffed. "Make me."
Four looked at him, certain she hadn't heard that. "What?"
"Marsh bent at the knees and held up his fists. "Try and make me."
Four's mantle turned maroon in irritation. Just how old are you? "I'm not going to fight you. What's wrong with you?"
"Everything," Gangrin said with a snort. "But yeah, I don't see any point in stacking the bricks now if we're just moving them again tomorrow."
"Sunds liik yur just tryn'a m'k us work," Miazma said in her bastardized approximation of Inklish.
Four held back a sigh once she'd spend several seconds trying to understand that sentence. "I just want the job done properly so we don't have to do it again, that's all. I don't see what the big conflict is all about."
Gangrin shook his head and his mantle clearly indicated that she was missing something pretty obvious.
"Pretty tough to get people to do something you don't wanna do, isn't it? Seriously, who wants to stack bricks all day?"
"Nobody," Four answered immediately, stating the obvious.
"Then what makes you think we wanna' do it?"
"I'm not expecting you to 'want' to do it, just do it. That's what a job is sometimes unless you're lucky and can do a job you really like for a living."
"Well that's what I'm going to do, so you can keep your cursed bricks."
"What?" Four was incredulous. She just couldn't follow this logic.
"Um, um," Tephy was raising her hand. "I stacked the bricks properly as long as I could."
Four glanced back at the pile of bricks. It could barely be seen but there were at least two layers of bricks that had been stacked underneath the careless piling. She doubted Tephy would have been able to stack that many herself before the pile overtook the stacking, which meant Vella must have stacked the rest.
"Yes, thank you, Tephy, but if you knew what was supposed to be done, why didn't you say anything and save all of us this entire conversation? The work could have been done by now and we could have moved on to the next thing. Vella, you too. Why didn't you say anything?"
Vella crossed her arms and turned her head away. "I don't don't see why I should stop them from proving how worthless they are. I thought it would be best to make it obvious their kind should be cut off and fed to the crows. They're a waste of space and resources otherwise."
Gangrin, turned around, a little bewildered at Vella's callous statement, but Miazama and Marsh whirled around angrily.
"You wanna fight me, loser?" Marsh snarled, walking towards Vella with readied fists.
"I'll tee yur tentacles behind yur fu'ul," Miazama shouted.
Vella grinned smugly while Tephy stepped away fearfully. "You cannot even stack bricks or follow simple instructions. All I would have to do is recite a math problem and your brains would cease to function."
Marsh let out an angry shout and then threw a fist at Vella who deflected his strike and started to follow up with a punch to his face when Four stepped in and stopped them, shoving herself between them.
"No fighting," she shouted.
"Make me," Marsh snarled at her as he struggled against her grip.
"I just did; now relax."
She shoved the two of them apart and kept herself between them. Things had gotten out of hand. She needed some kind of diversion, so she looked at Gangrin.
"What do you actually want to do then?"
He pulsed grey. "Turf war, obviously. It's the only thing worth doing."
"Turf war? You mean you wanna go pro."
"Duh. Doesn't everyone?"
"I guess a lot of inklings do. You play often?"
"Every chance I get. Even though the temple doesn't let me go that often I'm still S-ranked."
Given how long it could take to reach S-rank and if he were only allowed to play on weekends, reaching that level of skill was nothing to scoff at. But S-rank alone wasn't good enough to turn pro, and if you didn't get onto a team before you were eighteen, it was much harder to get a career as a pro. She could guess now why he was so upset about seemingly wasting time stacking bricks when he probably felt like his dream was slipping away from him.
"Okay, I get why you're upset," she said, trying to keep as calm as she can. "But you gotta' know it's not my fault you're here, and I'm not the one keeping you here. Maybe just think of the work as fitness training time or something."
He huffed. "I'm already in good shape from doing turf war regularly. I don't need this stuff. Besides, they're completely different. Nothing here is going to help with pro turf."
"Of course it will. Doing jobs like this is all about problem solving and details. That's super important in turf war."
"You suddenly an expert? I bet you've barely ever played."
Four groaned, her mantle turning burgundy. "I'm not getting into an argument about who's better at what."
"You'd obviously lose," Marsh said. "You're weak."
Four's fists tightened as she fought to keep her anger under control. "Then what would you do if you wanted to get a bunch of –, to get people to do something they don't want to do."
"Beat them up if they don't."
Four brought a hand to her face, exasperated. "That doesn't work. If you beat them up they won't be in any condition to do the work they need to do."
"Then beat up one badly enough that the others won't want to fight you and just do what you say instead."
"That's just bullying; it's not leadership."
"It's survival of the fittest."
"The Wisdoms told us that's a flawed philosophy. You live in a temple! How do you not know this?"
"He never pays attention in chapel," Gangrin smirked. "Not like I blame him. It's pretty boring."
Four had personally loved going to chaples, but then again, she was a member of the Helix advocacy, and Helix congregations tended to be closer to a party in many ways.
Feeling like she was at another dead end, Four brought her attention to Miazama. "And what's your excuse?"
She glared at her and told her through tuk'yan, that she could go suck a Salmonid's tail (at least in her personal interpretation). Four didn't bother giving her a reply. She didn't want to lower herself to that.
"Then what do you want?"
She didn't respond, and Four was fed up.
"Fine. You want to throw away the opportunity, go ahead. Finish work today and I'll talk to the priestess about you not coming anymore."
Gangrin huffed and then made the equivalent of a holding gesture in tuk'yan. "We're the one with the bargaining power here, not you. We don't need you and we don't need this job; you need us. You want us to work, you'd better pay us."
Four finally snapped. She could take no more.
"Stop opening your mouth! You just keep making yourself sound dumber!" All of them reeled from her sudden, loud outburst, apparently much more powerful than they had expected.
"Pay you? You already said you're forced to be here so why would we need to pay you? And so as long as you have no choice but to be here, why not make the most out of it and learn things instead of dragging your feet around moaning and crying about it like a bunch of weepy blobfish? You're just wasting your time that way."
She glared directly at Gangrin. "You wanna be a turf war pro? Don't make me laugh. You're crying about stacking bricks and you can't even do that right! You're forced to do something you don't wanna do and you throw a fit. You think someone with that kind of attitude will make it as a pro? You'll crack at the first sign of trouble. I don't care how skilled you are; I've seen plenty of players higher ranked than you get rejected and ones lower ranked than you get accepted, all because of a good attitude and hard work. Nobody wants a diva as a teammate."
Then she turned Marsh. "I don't know what crawled up your funnel to make you so crabby but nobody really cares how much of a fighter you are in most social situations, they care what kind of a person you are. You think you're acting tough but anyone our age with a halfway decent social life can tell that it's obviously a front for hiding some kind of weakness. Nobody's impressed."
She whirled to face Miazama. "You... I don't know what your issue is. I can't understand you very well but I grew up in the country. Sorry, not everyone is from the big city, alright? And nobody is going to want to understand you if all you do is give them attitude. I get if you're not very open, I can accept that, but if you lash out at someone, I don't think it's unreasonable for them to want to know why."
Then she glared at Vella who's eyes widened. She had not been expecting Four to turn to her.
"And you, get off your mountain. The war is over, it ended a hundred years ago, get over it and move on. The others have, why can't you? Pretty hard to believe you're any kind of superior when you seem like you try so damn hard to convince other people of it. As far as I've been able to tell, you're all talk. Why don't you actually do something to make us impressed?"
Four was panting at this point, breathless from letting all that pent up aggression out felt unbelievably good. She knew in the back of her head that she shouldn't have done it and that she would regret it later, but for the moment, she didn't care.
"Anyone who doesn't want to be here, go away. Be useless somewhere else. Think you can do that without messing up?"
With a mix of shocked and scowling faces, Cricket Squad, skulked away, together at least, leaving Four with the pile of bricks.
Four knelt down and began angrily taking the bricks off the stacked layers, which had been done fairly well, to Vella and Tephy's credit, but they could have cared a little bit more. Tephy had been the only one she hadn't blown up at, probably because she hadn't really done anything to warrant anger, other than obviously trying to distance herself from her squadmates and suck up a little, but that was understandable given the people she had been lumped with.
"I wonder if Three would do any better with this." It was something she couldn't help but think. She knew she shouldn't compare herself to Three, especially not when Three was at the lowest point she had ever seen her.
Her elvi'anu – her true sister, had been nothing but good to her and was, in so many ways, the kind of person she aspired to be. She couldn't help but imagine Three walking up and a simple glare from her being sufficient to put Cricket Squad in line. But Four wasn't Three, and Callie had obviously put her here to learn something, probably something about people or leadership. She didn't want to let them down, but she felt like she already had. She felt like she'd failed and was at a loss of what to do.
And so, Four stacked bricks, alone, crying softly to herself, lost and discouraged.
Maybe I am just a failure, like Dana always says.