a/n: Based (loosely) on a couple of advanced gameplay strategies; some of them I'm more proficient at than others.
Yesterday, he'd curated a swarm of twenty five reds into seventy and one yellow into fifteen. A single well-thrown pikmin could crush a dwarf bulborb. Ignoring the smaller grub-dogs in favor of their larger counterparts presented a new risk; the dwarf might call for help. The pikmin, newly sprouted or budding or bearing torn petals, did not pass judgement, did not rebel, despite his patterns of failure and vigilant correction. He'd brought down the stone barrier directly south of camp.
Today, the captain spent gathering ship parts. A volley of bomb-rocks took care of the remaining barriers in reach. Yet, the radar showed three parts left; one past a light barrier to the north surrounded by water, one on a plateau accessible past the stone wall near the original site of the yellow Onion, and one across the lake.
With two yellows armed, he took to the clearing where he'd found the Nova Rocket. Given the distance from the tip of the shore to the top of the gate, it should be possible to break down the gate with only two bombs. The first dropped its bomb and scampered across the lip of the chasm and the barrier crumbled halfway. The second yellow bounced off the side of the wall and dropped its bomb-rock, extinguished. It thrashed about in the water, towards the sound of the whistle. It clambered to shore and raised itself on spindly arms before collapsing again. Its leaf weighed down, beady eyes glazed and fixed on him, skin damp to the touch. It did not rise.
He got another bomb-rock and threw the first yellow over again. It shuffled over towards the gate from the side and dropped its bomb too far to make a difference.
The captain whistled sharply. Another bomb-rock. Then another.
By the time the gate crumbled he'd run out of bomb-rocks and the posies were blooming. He threw the yellow at one of the aptly-colored targets. He dismissed it and followed course back to the ship. He took out a posse of reds and yellows and tossed them over the precipice to cross himself, at the other end. Confronted with another gate, stronger than the last but at the very least, not made of stone. Bringing it down would've been easier with bomb-rocks, but he threw his squadron against the barrier and double checked the radar. There should be a part on the other side of this gate.
Then, just a matter of luring the beast inside with a small squadron and directing the larger share toward the Radiation Canopy. He'd escorted it through the gate. He rushed the small squadron towards it. The beetle lost interest. Thankfully, the radar detected no further ship oarts.
Next morning, he took the southern path. Two bulborbs and a dwarf. After dispatching them with a swarm of reds, ten yellows thrown over the edifice, one by one, cleared a path forward. The ground burst open. A bird-like monster with a serpentine body. It moved too quickly for the yellows to reach in time and quickly dove below the ground with half-a-dozen reds in its beak. Reds were more efficient, heavier than the yellows and hit harder.
Mid-afternoon, he had a dozen pellets to make up for his losses, the Geiger Counter, a few droplets of nectar. The radar detected one last part. Across the lake. At the shore there was only a bundle of sticks and sheargrubs beneath the dirt.
The pikmin, swarming, overtook the sheargrubs with ease. The rest began to beat on the wood with fists and heads and stems. The captain explored the length of the pond and found nothing but wogpoles. The bridge was finished and the posse stood idle. Nothing but a couple posies and a dead end. On the cliff adjacent, another bundle of sticks, too far to be reached by conventional means. Just a small patch of shore on the island, but no means of climbing further.
The ache in his muscles had been there since morning. The captain sagged slightly where he stood. The Dolphin's capabilities should allow him to explore new territory. If only there was a suitable way to deal with large bodies of water...
He was walking back across the bridge, looking for a different angle. A gleam caught the sun's dying rays.
The captain doubled back and took a red and threw it across the watery expanse, wading in, whistling it to follow. It thrashed along, wailing, until it couldn't stay above the surface any longer.
The captain waded back to shore, back across the bridge to the Onions. He bumped a single yellow from the throng and ran towards the bridge and to the water's edge, throwing it with all his strength. A few more reds rushed to follow and submerged before they were even halfway across.
Careless and exhausted. Making stupid mistakes. Should call it a night.
No. Every day was critical. He had to be sure this plan was even feasible, accounting for the difference between red and yellow's airtime. He picked another yellow and threw it as far as possible. Waded across the river, to the small embankment, whistling the pikmin to shore. It shook itself dry and looked around, pale, at ease. He whistled and tossed it to higher ground, where it naturally pathed towards the unrolled bridge. He repeated this process with painstaking care until he had ten pikmin safely across.
The captain took a yellow and threw it at the partially-constructed bridge. The yellow bounced off the side of the bundle and crashed into the water below, thrashing above the surface. He whistled it quickly to safety. He ought to have been more conservative with culling bulborbs and fauna alike. He had nothing left over to replace the pikmin he'd lost.
As the sun kissed the horizon, the captain crossed the newly-made bridge and came back with the Sagittarius. His son, safe back home, would be eager to hear of his adventures.