Chapter 9 - A Reluctant Alliance
Tried as she might, Maurice couldn't break free from her surprisingly tough restraint. The ropes made of twisted bandages refused to budge no matter how long she chewed on them, and no matter how hard she tried to undo its knots. Her alien captors clearly knew what they were doing, not even leaving a gap for Maurice to even shapeshift and slip out of. That last part frustrated the girl to no end.
"Hey, relax. Double fisherman knots don't break easily. Struggling will only make this worse." The Stranger's booming voice rang out the robot on her left, the ancient one-armed construct seemingly translating everything he said into perfect Octonese, which weirded her and her entire team out.
By the Great Oct, it even imitated the Underdome accent and all!
But in response, the girl simply threw a scathing death glare at him and defiantly resumed her efforts. Maurice had already deemed the lanky brute before her a mortal enemy the moment his thrall touched Mira. Like shell he was gonna tell her what to do!
"...Well, your choice. I'm just saying... But trust me, you won't like it when the ropes tighten, much less when they cut into your skin." The Stranger shrugged nonchalantly, then turned his attention to her peers. His words were not unfounded either, seeing how Maurice felt harder and harder to breathe the more she wriggled. Still, the girl's pettiness only allowed her to stop once the Stranger's gaze had left completely. She tried to relax herself to the best of her abilities, focusing on the ongoing "interrogation" instead of all the discomforts she was experiencing. One of them being the nauseatingly putrid taste of the Stranger's red fluid lingering on her tongue, that refused to go no matter how hard she swallowed. The closest thing Maurice could compare it to was finely-powdered iron mixed with a bit of algae sugar and a bit of salt. It made her want to puke. The other one being the tingling itch on her calf's jagged scar, that was slowly driving her insane. Maurice was still wrapping her head around how the shell her wound healed that fast, when it was still gushing blood a mere dozen minutes ago. More ancient magic, she supposed? The Octarian society deems all unexplainable Ascendant artifacts or phenomenons as magic, and this might just be another one of them.
But how did the brute manage to get hold of and learn to use one?
"So… " The Stranger (or rather, his giant robot) spoke again, his mouth's movements deviating from his words like a hand puppet. "I suppose we're already well-acquainted with each other, after all that shooting and stuff. The only things that we still don't know are the names, yeah?"
"Now Mira right here…" He jerked his chin at the girl in question, earning himself another glare from Maurice, "...has already told me hers, and I'd love to call you people by something else other than just 'Humanoid fuckfaces' in general. So… Who first?" None of Maurice's teammates spoke up, and she too was clueless on how to respond to something both familiar and alien at the same time. His pale gaunt face and tall stature, now that her brain finally thought of scrutinizing it, hit her straight in the uncanny valley and made her sweat beads. One thing Maurice was certain, though, is that his nickname for them was a slur.
"...Anyone, huh?… None?… Alright, then I'll go first." The Stranger hummed with a grin, his phone shaking slightly causing the light to flicker with it.
"I'm Brad Raymond, but you can call me Brad. Junior A.M.C.U-service mechanic of Sector 27, from the now-defunct Reunited States and is an inhabitant of this facility. Sucks to meet y'all." For something that looked like it belonged to a wild fever dream, his last name sounds surprisingly Octarian. The guy's first name, though, came out as pure static that hurt her ears. Though she could still make out something akin to 'Be-rode' or 'Ber-red' through the interference.
Huh, weird name.
"Inhabitant…" Mira finally found her bearing to speak, her hostile gaze disappearing in a poof. "...So…That means you are an Ascendant?"
The entire group's faces went pale at the question.
"Ascendant?" He chuckled dryly, "The fuck's an Ascendant? That's what we're called nowadays?"
"...The Ascendants, Progenitors or Elders. The magical race that used to dominate the world? The ones who uplifted us before ascending to the Skyland, whose grand structures we live in and technology we inherited?" It was Anthia's turn to speak up, sounding more to herself than her captor. The girl blurted out an entire excerpt from her 6th-grade history schoolbook like a machine, fear still evident on her face.
"Wait." The Stranger raised a hand, turning to the gunner with a frown. "Let's ignore the 'Dome whatever' part first. So, you're telling me that we're now seen as some sort of omnipotent godlike being? The Great All-Creator kinda bullshit? Eh?"
She answered hesitantly, finally meeting his eyes, "Uh...Yes?"
"Hold on…" The man's expression turned serious, and he leaned forward with his hands clasped together. His sudden shift in demeanor uneased the Octolings, and they anxiously glanced at each other then at the metal giant, sensing that things were about to turn for the worst. But out of all the developments that the group was expecting, The Stranger breaking the silence with a wheezing laughter was certainly not one of them.
"PFFFT!-BWAHahahahahahah!…" His laughter turned into breathless giggles, and the man smacked his helmet with a resounding 'plap!'. "-Gawddamn… Ah, I'm sorry. This is just so funny!"
"...What's so funny?" Oceanica at the other end of the line demanded, her snarky tone returning although still mixed with a fair amount of shakiness. Despite them all being in a perilous situation, Mira couldn't help but chuckle in amusement at her rival's foolhardiness.It's apparent that she still had doubts about him being an Ascendant.
"Well it's ironic that we get praised and worshiped, when it was us who destroyed the world in the first place. Bloody hell, we didn't even bless your kind with no shit, or even know that you exist at all!" The Stranger explained while wiping tears from his eyes, still grinning from ear to ear revealing his creepy segmented beak. "This- this whole thing is like witnessing Jesus's resurrection, but Jesus doesn't know who the fuck his flocks are! That's crazy, man."
Maurice cocked her head in confusion, pushing her ears to the limit to decode the hysterical man's rambling. Among his many (thankfully censored) curse words, she could make out the word 'Gieer-Sut' that, given the context, is apparently some sort of ancient deity that the Ascendants worshiped. To think that a civilization as great and advanced as theirs also has a religion, and a greater God standing above them… But on the other hand, the belief which her entire nation was built upon has just taken a critical hit, the supposed living fossil before her tearing down what she'd always been taught about them, all the while mocking her for it. The girl didn't know what to make of such borderline radical revelation, and frankly, she didn't want to. Maurice just wanted to close her eyes and let everything around her blur away, putting her head that was throbbing from migraine to rest. She would have to dwell into this later, if she ever had a chance to.
"So, yeah. I guess I am an Ascendant. Our actual name is 'Humanity', but you can't pronounce it anyway." The man shrugged, ripping open a blue bag of gold-colored kelp chips and shoving a handful into his mouth.
It has to be dried kelp, right? What else could they use to make chips out of? But the strange color, smell and unnatural crispiness though… - Maurice asked herself, and was surprised that somehow, in her situation, she still wondered about such trivial things. She was also surprised at how casual she really was when talking to a living breathing Ascendant, something that would make most Octarian historians and researchers have a heart attack.
Huh? Maybe I'm just THAT jaded?
The Ascendant whistled, "So, now that I've introduced myself, I guess it's only fair for y'all to do the same, yeah? Give and take?"
"...Yes." Oceanica hesitantly nodded, darting her eyes to her subordinates in nervousness.
"Okay. You're the squad leader, aren't you? Black… uh, tentacles and all?" He jerked his chin at the girl, who tensed up at the gesture.
"Yes, that is correct."
"Nice! Already got that hunch since we first met. You got no idea how close you were to getting capped at the door, I tell ya." The man swirled his finger at the group. But before the Elite could open her mouth, an oh-so-familiar voice chimed it from her left that made her blood boil.
"Ex-squad leader, sir. She was deemed unfit for her role an hour ago." Mira said with reverence, glancing at Oceanica only to see her staring daggers right back.
"Mira!" The black-haired octoling growled in her throat, then turned back to the Ascendant with an anxious and obsequious face. "Oh Great Ascendant, she speaks not of the truth! I've been with my team ever since we… uh, trespassed your palace, and I've never once heard of such a thing!" Her stomach dropped upon seeing the man's unamused expression. "Uuhhh… Please excuse me, Great One. I need to consult with my subordinates for a moment."
"Shuck you guys doing!? Back me up, coddammit!" The Elite called out in the old language of Octo-Canyoneer, that she hoped the machine won't be able to translate. But to her utter horror, instead of following her command, Maurice, Anthia and Jason turned to discuss with each other while casting doubtful glances at her.
"I dunno about this, man. This is life-or-death matter right here." Jason whispered.
"Yeah, she's our boss and all, but do we even want her to speak for all of us?" Anthia added with a nod.
"Yeah…" Maurice smiled, but a look at her hesitant face tells Oceanica which side the girl was on. It seems that her reputation among the team has finally declined completely, and with it her authority over them. Oceanica's blood ran cold at the implication of it.
"This- this is an act of mutiny! You shucking dogfishes! You all will regret this when we get out!" The Elite hissed through gritted teeth, the bulging veins on her forehead looking like they're about to pop.
"As if we ever will! Awfully empty promises you made there, 'Nica!" Mira jeered, rolling her eyes mockingly. This finally pushed Oceanica's rage to the max, and she whipped around to throw curses at the girl, who returned fire with equal ferocity.
"Can it, people." The Ascendant said in a bored tone. His robotic bodyguard bent down and stared at the octolings with its intimidating blue "eyes", its intimidating presence silencing their chatter in seconds. "I'd prefer that we carry out this conversation with basic civility and respect. And you two, drop the big words. That won't do you any good." He pointed at Oceanica and Mira, who gulped hard at the mention of, "We still fucking hate each other's guts, and there's no need to sugarcoat that, yeah?"
"...Yes, uh…" Both women nodded after glaring at each other one more time.
"-Just call me whatever-the-fuck, I don't care. As long as it's not curse words, we're good."
"Yes… Ascendant."
"Good. I'm not telling you to represent them, alright? I won't kill any of you if I don't like your answers either, so chill out. Tartar over there won't either. That guy's harmless as a rock, I tell ya." The Ascendant's non-reassuring smile returned, gesturing at the towering machine, "And by the way, he can translate your other languages just fine, so don't try to fuck with me."
Great. - Mira rolled her eyes internally - We're now laid bare before the fossil like a book, and there's nothing we can do about it.
"Now, where were we?... Oh right, your names. Please." He jerked his chin at the group.
"I'm Oceanica, Elite rank Team-leader. Just call me Oceanica." Said the black-haired octoling with an awkward smile, followed by the rest of the team with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
"That guy is Kaye, by the way. A fifth-ranked rifleman." Oceanica gestured at the wounded octoling by the door.
"Alright. And here I thought you're like a staff sergeant or something, 'Nica. Seeing that you guys are a squad and all. Now… what are you guys, exactly? I mean, what's your race called."
"We're called Octolings. Uh… We're from the Octaria Empire…" Oceanica paused to collect her thoughts, casting her eyes downward as if embarrassed by her speechlessness.
"No pressure, just take your time." He shrugged. "Funny how sometimes the trivial questions are the ones we struggle with."
"-And we evolved from an aquatic cephalopod species called "octopus". Surely you are familiar with it?" Anthia chimed in again, and Oceanica felt another vein pop on her forehead.
…Oh you too, filthy dogfish!?-
"Yeah, I know what an octopus is, alright? It's not an uncommon animal." Grinned the Ascendant, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, "Quite popular, in fact. They're delicious when fried with Teriyaki sauce, onions and garlic. Goes great with Heineken also!" The entire squad's faces went pale at his words.
"...W-what?" Mira asked, her face white with fear.
"Not up to your taste? Well maybe spicy net-grilled octopus, perhaps? That's my dad's favorite. Or boiled octopus veggie salad?" The Ascendant stifled a laugh, "Hell, the Japanese even eat them raw. Sannakji, I believe it's called, and frankly I can't stomach those. They eat pretty much any kind of seafood raw there. Shrimps, scallops, fishes, crabs, whatever. If it moves, it's food." He shrugged, his nonchalant attitude freaking the Octolings out even more. Anthia's mind wandered back to a particular page in the Book Of Madai…
"...Thou shalt not devour the sacred flesh of thy brethren, nor besmirch thy tongue with the taste of fresh lifeblood. For it is an act befitting the accursed Salmonid spawns." - Chapter 6, Verse 43.
The Octarian society vowed to follow his teaching down to the letters, and the consumption of both unevolved marine species and raw meat is heavily frowned upon. So much so that violation, even accidental, can result in permanent exile or death. There's been many changes in their Faith ever since Lord D.J Octavio inherited the throne, such as allowing non-Octoling minorities to partake in the act, and allowing exiles under the age of 14 to redeem themselves through trials. Still, the stigmas around them persisted, but that was not what Anthia was concerned about.
He's an ancient being who'd existed long before the first Salmonid was even born, what the Madai Scripture's gonna do about it? - The gunner shrugged.
What she was really concerned of, however, was whether the Ascendant saw the team as simply captives…
…Or a full-course meal.
"Oh yes... Right. We also eat octopus meat, though mostly boiled in hot sauce… It is tasty." Anthia lied, and was momentarily surprised at how she could keep a (relatively) straight face when saying something so morbid. Hopefully, if she could find a common ground with this Ascendant, he would be less likely to consider the 2nd option.
The man simply chuckled, rubbing his forehead in amusement, "Anthia, girl. Drop the act. You ain't fooling no one with that face." The air inside the room froze in place, along with the Octolings' blood.
"...But, you're not going to… eat us, right? …We aren't tasty at all, I swear!" Oceanica asked shakily, as her subordinates darted their eyes around for an escape, only to find none.
"..." A long pause ensued, as the captives were scrutinized from head to toe like pieces of meat. The Octolings could feel the tension rise within their chests, the deathly silence between them making it even more choking and unbearable.
"... Bwahahahahah!" Once again, the man burst out laughing, almost giving half the team a stroke, "Of-fucking-course not! I'm just screwing around with ya! Y'all should've seen how your faces look, man. It's priceless!" His laughter died down upon noticing everyone's unresponsiveness. "Oh, cm'on! That was a good one!"
The Ascendant's face turned serious again, "I'mma be straight. I would never, ever, ever think of eating you, alright? Consuming a sapient being, capable of speech and intelligence is just as a taboo in my world as it is in yours. I am no savage." He paused, "Plus, I gotta agree with Oceanica there. You guys smell like literal shit up close, and that alone killed my appetite." For the first time in her life, the prideful, bossy and self-entitled Elite felt relieved to hear a straight insult.
"Oh, alright. Good to know! You almost gave us a hearts attack there." Anthia chuckled nervously, trying her best to dissuade the awkwardness between them.
"Mmm-Hmm. Got a defibrillator right here, just in case." the man hummed, patting his ink-stained backpack nearby, "Anyway, back to the topic. So Oceanica said that your kind is called ''Octolings', and your empire's name is "Octaria", yeah? Then what are those scooter-riding tentacles with faces called?"
"They are also called Octarians." Mira replied, and the man seemed shocked at her lack of grief for them.
"... So they also evolved from octopuses like you, then? But those things are… poles apart from how you guys look? How does that work?" The Ascendant's eyes narrowed.
"Well, they are not exactly 'of' our species, but… more like a former part of us. Octarians are essentially sections of cut Octoling tentacles, enlarged and given intelligence in growth vats. They serve the bulk of our work and fighting force."
"So… slaves, then? Or are they given some sort of second-class citizenship? I mean, you guys name your Empire after them…?"
"Yes. Octarians are, for all intent and purposes, cloned slaves. It is required for the average Octaria citizen to donate their tentacles once every two months once they reach maturity. The process is completely painless, and our tentacles regrow after a couple weeks. And no, we don't name our Empire after them. That was a coincidence." Mira explained.
"Huh… You guys have already discovered gene technology? Color me surprised. That's a big leap for just 12 thousand years!" The Ascendant scratched his chin, amazed.
Mira shook her head, "We didn't. It's another artifact that your race left behind."
"Oh..."
"Legends say that the First Empress found it locked inside a vault in the bottom floor of the Dome, when she first stumbled across it. The vault opened when it detected her Nobility blood, the one who would unify the Octoling race and bring us to greatness."
The Ascendant raised a brow, "Sounds like a cheap Isekai plot to me. Lots of 'chosen-one' bullshit, heh."
"I don't know what's this 'Ee-Si-Kay' you're talking about, Ascendant. But yes, our government does love their propaganda. I really can't remember any of our folklore that doesn't carry any hidden political message within them." Mira nodded.
"Heh, ain't that pretty much every government ever? Can't keep the population satisfied and controlled if you don't gaslight them 24/7."
"Not the Inklings though." Jason shrugged, causing the tall man to cock his head in confusion.
"Inklings?"
"Yes, Inklings." Oceanica explained, a flash of disgust appeared on her face, "They are an ignorant, hedonistic and brutish race that descended from the ancient 'squid'. They mostly live in a city named 'Inktopolis', on the surface just a dozen kilometers away from our Dome."
"Not a fan of them, aren't you?" The Ascendant smirked.
"No. Never have been. They are our kind's mortal enemies. It was them that forced us to live underground when we lost the Great Turf War a hundred years ago, leaving us under the mercy of constant disasters, resource scarcity, energy shortage and failures of the decaying Domes. All the while their kind live fat and happy, breeding like sea-rabbits on the surface world." The girl spat with pure venom and vitriol, as if the words themselves burned her tongues. Anthia and Jason nodded in agreement.
"Wait, you guys had a world war? Like, for real?" He asked, clicking his tongue when seeing Oceanica nod, "Damn, what fucking… horrible parenting, Mankind did." The man chuckled.
"...What do you mean? Your race had a Great Turf War also?" Anthia raised a quizzical brow.
"Yes we did. But first of all, it's called 'world wars', not 'turf wars'. We fought for so much more than just territories. And second of all, there wasn't just one, but five."
"Five!?" Jason, Mira and Oceanica blurted out, utterly flabbergasted at the number. Even Maurice almost broke her ice-cold and uninterested facade, only managing to hold her act together at the last minute.
The Ascendant nodded grimly. "Yep, five. Not to mention countless other small-scale conflicts, both civil and international. There were so many, in fact, that we lost count."
"By the Great Oct…We'd always known that the Ascendants were a warlike race… But no one could've imagined it to be this level!"
"Yep, Mankind's our name, 'killing each other's our game." The man chuckled humorously, but none of his audience laughed at it, "Been doing that shit since we were still monkeys, and it only got better."
"...Did you guys have, like… spawn-pad or something like that?" Mira stuttered.
"What's a spawn-pad?"
"I take it as a no?" Mira winced, but showed the man her wrist anyway, "It is a large circular device that can be set up outside of combat, and remotely connected to these bracelets we wear. When we absorb a lethal amount of enemy ink, it will transform us into our swim form, then pull us back to safety via mutare-directional tractor beams. I heard the Inklings have a more advanced version that's supposed to heal you also, but never got the chance to see one."
"It… does what?" The man stared skeptically at Mira's yellow-striped bracelet, its LED lights blinking bright red. "...That sounds like more harm than good, not gonna lie."
"Not at all. The opposite, in fact. Spawn-pads have been keeping our troops alive ever since our race's first open skirmishes with the Inklings."
"Yeah but you said that this "spawn-pad'" thingy can compress the user's body into an… octopus? Then drag them on the ground with what is essentially "The Force", through all sorts of hazards with no protective measures whatsoever? That can't do well to all the bones and organs inside your body. Hell, even being pulled like that is enough to strip your skin off like spandex."
"No, us Octolings don't have a skeleton like you do. The only two calcium-made organs in our body are the beaks and skull-plates. And on the issue of protection, well the tractor beam helps us with that too. It generates a kind of "forcefield" around our body like a shield. Mind-boggling, I know."
The Ascendant scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Mind-boggling, yes. And ya right. We didn't have anything like that. Best we could do was med-evac by VTOLs, and even then it was a luxury for few. Apparently our races' concepts of warfare are completely different."
"Yes, no doubt about that." Anthia nodded.
"Mmm-Hmm. Would love to talk about that later. But oh well, I think our time for pleasantries is over." The Ascendant grabbed his gears and stood up, his smile disappearing. The one-armed robot also went to stand beside him, " I can't just stay here to keep y'all company forever. I gotta eat and drink too! So, my question here is…"
He loomed menacingly over the tensed-up Octolings, his visor hiding his eyes from their angle,"...Are we with each other or not?"
"What do you mean?" Mira raised a brow.
"I'm just suggesting strength in numbers. The whole facility is chock-full of fishmen, and the blast door down there is pretty much sealed up forever. One guy ain't gonna last long against these monsters, and neither will you. So… we team up, yeah?"
"... What's in there for us?"
"Firstly, you guys get to live another day. That's something, right? Tartar knows this place like the palm of his hand, so navigation is not a problem. Secondly, we share anything that we can find. Food, water, weapons, whatever. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours."
Seeing the squad's silence, he added. "What? You're afraid that I'd double-cross you mid-way or something?"
"...Well, we have all the reasons to. You did kill Linda and crippled Kaye, after all." Mira shrugged.
"Linda? The dead one with two pistol?" The Ascendant chuckled mockingly, "She got it coming. The dude also, I'm not apologizing."
"No remorse, at all? You cold-hearted monster! She has a family, you know!?"Maurice growled, face red with anger and contempt. But she failed to intimidate the man.
"Wait wait wait... Alright. Lemme get this straight. So you people…" he chuckled, gesturing to Maurice, "...Drilled a hole through my door, waltz'd into my bunker like you owned the place, bagged all my stuff and then tried to execute me even when I was unarmed. And now I… am at fault for CAPPING THE PISS!!... out of your friend, beating up that twink little shit, and defending my private property!? Pfft-HAHAHahahah!... Y'all out of your damn minds!" In front of the agitated man, the octolings again chose to answer with silence.
"Yes, you're right! I did all that! But what other choice do you really have? We're stuck here together, whether you like it or not. Let's just forget our old hate now, and start anew, yeah?"
"Alright… And if we refuse?" Anthia hesitantly asked, nervousness rich in her voice.
"Anthia, what the shell!?", quipped Oceanica.
"What, boss? I'm just asking? Gotta know what we're really getting into." She turned to defend herself, but the Ascendant silenced them both with a finger snap.
"Playing hard to get, huh? I'm starting to like ya." He smirked, waving a finger at the gunner, "If you refuse, well, that'd be a damn shame. But rest assured, you will not be harmed if you choose so." Anthia breathed a sigh of relief, "Though, we would not save you either. What me and Tartar would do is loot your gears, bolt the door shut and leave you guys tied here together. Those fishmen will most likely get to you before thirst and hunger does… I'm not saying that you WILL make it alive if you join me. But between 0,5 chance and 0 chance, which would you rather choose?"
The Octolings' faces immediately turned a blue shade of fear. They looked at each other, a form of wordless agreement forming between them. "...Alright, we're in." Mira spoke with a sigh.
"Alright! How about you, Bitey?" He jerked his chin at Maurice, who snarled at the nickname she was given.
"My name is Maurice, Ascendant!" She spat, "And yes, same as them. As much as I despite the idea…"
"The feeling's mutual, girl. Well, let's get going shall we?" He clapped heartily, before lifting his spear and pointing it right at Maurice's chest. Her eyes went wide in panic.
"Wait WHAT ARE YOU-" The blade sliced down-
"Ack!!-... Huh?"
-Bringing two ends of the bandage ropes down with it. The rest of her restraints loosened, and with a flex of her arm, Maurice was free again. The Ascendant nodded, before cutting free the rest of her colleagues, standing a step back as they all picked themselves up with some difficulty.
"Can't you just untie it like normal?" Anthia complained while massaging her numbed limbs. Her skin was red and felt raw to the touch, especially in places where the bandages made contact. She wondered if the Ascendant had something that could help with it, but decided against asking him. They're not friends or teammates. Merely cooperators.
"Nope! As I said, double fisherman knots don't break easy. Especially after you all tightened them up with your strugglings. Deal with it." The gunner only threw back a glare as an answer, then turned back to her work.
"Tartar, mind checking up on 'Crippy' over there? See if you can carry him on your back somehow." The Ascendant gestured at Kaye, who had awoken and was watching them with an unreadable expression.
"Yes, sir." The construct nodded and, with thumping steps, walked out of the door.
"Also. Jason, was it?" He turned to the squad's sniper, who'd just finished packing up his backpack. The guy almost jumped at the mention of his name, dropping his gears to face the Ascendant.
"Uh…Sir?" He fumbled with his words.
"Drop the sir."
"Ah, sorry…"
"Nah, you're good. Mind giving my Tartar a hand? We need to strap Kaye on his back, and… well Tartar is not "armed" enough to do that." The Ascendant gestured to where his construct was, stifling a laugh for his own dad joke.
"Yes. Right away." The rifleman nodded and exited the room.
"So… What's the plan now… Ascendant?" Oceanica walked beside the taller man, her octoshot holstered by her side.
"I didn't have time to discuss with Tartar for a proper one, but for now, we'll head further into the cryo-hall. There's a security armory at the end of it, that hopefully has some weapons left.That and get some provisions, cuz mine's running low." The ancient man answered absent-mindedly, picking his dirty fingernails. Another curious organ that her kind doesn't have, Oceanica observed. She made a mental note to ask him about his biology later.
"Speaking of provisions, do you guys happen to have drinking water on you? All that talking got me dry as hell."
"Oh yeah, I do." Anthia pulled out her metal bottle from her backpack and uncorked it, "Here. There's not much left, but it should do." She handed it to him.
"Thank you." The Ascendant nodded with a smile, before pouring its content into his mouth in less than a second. He smacked his lips in satisfaction, then handed the empty container back to Anthia. "Woah, that hit the spot!" The man was about to turn away, when he noticed the gunner's expectant gaze on him.
"Thank you?... Whatcha gawking at?" Still, the girl's stare remained unwavering.
Then, just as sudden as her strange behavior, Anthia broke eye contact and awkwardly scratched her head, "Apology, Ascendant. I forgot that you're not from Octaria. In our society, we offer food to people we meet for the first time, as a show of trust. It's… somewhat of an ancient etiquette, but still well-practiced today."
"Alright, cool. When in Rome, do as Romans do, I guess." The large man shrugged, then pulled out some sort of ointment tube from his trouser pocket. "I don't have much food on me right now, and I'm not sure if you can even ingest what I eat or not. But I do have something better than food." He tossed the tube to Anthia, who caught it mid-air.
She raised it to her face skeptically, giving it a smell before scrunching her nose in disgust, "Ugh…What is this?"
"Splinc-X bruise-relief gel, for those crisscrossing marks you got. Just a thin layer, and they should go away in a dozen minutes. Can be used to disinfect open wounds. Miraculous stuff, really. My must-have in football matches." He said, before turning to check on his robot outside. "Share with others also, consider it my trust to y'all." Then the Ascendant exited the room, followed by a nervous-looking Oceanica with a notebook, who apparently had questions to bombard him with.
"Thank you!" Anthia called out, receiving a reverberating "Yeah!" in response. She looked back down her hands, where the white-and-blue object laid.
Miracle drugs, huh?
A detail on the tube caught her eyes, and she shone her flashlight on it for a clearer view. It was a circular logo printed in dark-blue, with two thick white wavy lines stacked horizontally in the center. Anthia swore that she'd seen this peculiar logo somewhere before. Probably on one of those nutjobs conspiracy websites she used to follow. Anthia opened the tube's cap, and smeared a bit of its teal gelatinous contents onto her bruised arm. A smile formed on her lips as the red patches began to fade in color and soreness. The Ascendant wasn't lying at all.
"What do you have there?" A smirking Mira smacked the gunner on the back, causing her to yelp in surprise.
"Mira! By the Great Oct, don't scare me like that!" She brushed off the roller's hands from her shoulder, feigning anger, "It's just something he gave me for the bruises. You want some?" She showed Mira the open tube.
"This carp smells strong as shell...Nah, I'm good. Thanks." Mira declined, but her older colleague didn't let it slide that easily.
"You sure?" Anthia raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the crisscrossing blood-welled bruises on Mira's arm.
"Oh, that. Eh, it's not severe anyway. Just a small scratch. It'll probably heal in two days or so." The roller shrugged, and was about to turn away when Anthia grabbed her shoulder.
"Cm'on, girl. I know that you're strong and all, but can you not try to tough it out for once?" The gunner rubbed her forehead in exasperation."Yeah, it'll heal in two days, but what would happen until then? We can't let these small wounds affect your performance in combat. You might think it's nothing now, but trust me, when you're all tired and sore from hours of non-stop fighting, it'll start to take its toll. We've all been there seen that, and-"
"-Ugh, Fine! Alright. I'll have some. Stop nagging so much!" Mira sighed, grabbing the ointment from her friend before brusquely rubbing it on herself.
"Thanks. I wasn't nagging. It's called 'logical explanation', meathead." Anthia smiled teasingly.
"It's still nagging, whatever you say." The roller rolled her eyes with a pout, "You done using it yet?"
"No. Just tested it on my arms. Lemme have some also."
"Yeah." Mira then turned around, "Hey! Maurice! I have something for ya."
"I'm coming!" Her sister called back from the room's far corner. "Whatcha got?"
"Bruise ointment. Good stuff." She showed Maurice the tube. "C'mon, arms up."
"...Ooooh, Cod. That feels cool as shell!...Amazing!" The younger girl whistled as Mira applied the gel on her skin, "This works with open wounds also?"
"Yep it does."
"Don't hog it all to yourself, guys! I'm standing right here, ya know?" Anthia said from beside the duo.
"Honest suggestion, Anthia. Boys dig scars, so you should leave out some spots. Might help with your F.A status one day, hmmm?" Mira grinned, but squeezed some gels on her friend's finger anyway.
"Shush you!" The gunner playfully smacked Mira's shoulder, "You said as if I haven't got an 'aim' on me already!"
"Oh? Well I'd be splatted! Pray tell who the lucky guy is?" The roller raised a brow, intrigued.
Anthia winked with a mischievous smile, earning a laugh from Mira, "As if! Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you now, would it?"
"...Uh, guys? I gotta come clear with you about something." Maurice hesitantly said, her eyes downcast as if ashamed of something. She looked like she had shrunk even smaller than the two girls before her. That instantly got Mira on edge.
"What is it, Sis'? Tell me, it's fine."
"Well…" Maurice paused to collect her thoughts, "...I might or might not have…"
"...Have what?" Anthia inquired. Another short pause for the Octoling girl to look around, making sure that no one else is eavesdropping on them. Dragging both Mira and Anthia to the room's far-left corner, Maurice took a deep breath, then dropped her voice down to barely a whisper.
"...I might have bitten the Ascendant's arm."
"…"
A long, pregnant silence ensued between them. Maurice looked down again, awaiting the two's imminent reaction. She could almost hear the sound of gears turning inside their heads, struggling to process the information she gave them. Anthia was the first to break out of her trance.
"...You WHAT!!?" She blurted out in utter bewilderment, only to have her mouth stuffed full of Mira's fist milliseconds later.
"Shut up! Don't shucking draw attention!" Mira scowled while looking at the door, finally withdrawing her hand and letting Anthia cough out loud.
"Ack… alright. Mira. Y-you gotta chill out, girl." Anthia raised a hand at her teammate, still massaging her jaw. Mira promptly ignored her, instead turning to Maurice.
"You did? When?" Mira asked, concern and fear written all over her face, "Did… did you draw blood?"
Now Maurice looked like she was about to break down, "It was outside the catwalks when we were fighting. I went after the Ascendant with Anthia and fought him hand-to-hand. All was going well until he drew his spear." Anthia instinctively touched her now-spotless abdomen at that part, a chill running down her spine, "When I saw him, uh… take down Anthia, I dunno… something in me just snapped… And yes, there was blood." But to Maurice's surprise, a pair of strong but gentle arms pulled her into a bear hug, the familiar scent and deep-pink tentacles of Mira brushing against her face.
"It's fine, sister. It's fine. Don't cry…" Mira cooed, patting Maurice soothingly on the back, "It wasn't intentional on your part. You were pushed between a rock and a hard place, and had no other choice. You're not at fault here…" In her dear sister's embrace, the young Octoling felt at ease again. Like everything was right and fine, no matter how chaotic the world around her becomes. Maurice's mind briefly wandered back to their childhood under the same roof, all the good old times they had together. The girl closed her eyes, enjoying the moment-
"By the Great Oct!" -And Anthia just HAD to ruin it for her. The EQ-deficient gunner whistled, "Damn, girl. You are so Exiled right now!"
A single death glare from Mira shutted her up real quick, "Anthia! Remember, what happens here, stays here alright? When you walk out of this room, you will know nothing, and have heard nothing. You hear me?" She growled threateningly, still not letting go of her meek sister.
"Woah, alright! Chill out, sista! I was just saying. Like, things would probably happen… y'know?" Anthia raised both her hands defensively, her shit-eating grin still plastered on her face.
"Well it wouldn't if you keep your gossiping mouth shut. If you ever, ever, EVER breathe out a word of this, my friend…" Mira left the last part unsaid, which finally let her insensitive teammate know that she was, in fact, not joking. At all.
"...Alright. Cool. I won't, you can trust me. We're friends, yeah?" Anthia drew a finger across her lips, upon seeing Mira's unamused face, "There. Mouth sealed. Nuh-uh, not gonna spill the beans. You happy now?"
"Alright…" The roller cautiously nodded, throwing the gunner a final look of intent.
"I'm not crying, by the way!" Maurice objected, now looking slightly brighter than she was before.
"Psst- Sure you didn't, kiddo." Mira rolled her eyes, booping the younger girl on the nose and making her pout.
"Oi! Are you lot done in there?" The rough and deep voice of the Ascendant called in, coupled with Oceanica's relentless yapping. "Let's go! We're movin'! This Kaye guy's like a damn bricksack! T'hell did he even eat?"
Meanwhile, somewhere deep within the catacomb…
"...Hugh, Hugh, Hugh, Hugh…!"
Grugk-Hal ran, as fast as his beaten and ink-poisoned body could carry him. A thin trail of green slime marked his steps, adding color to the gigantic, dark and algae-infested corridor he was in. Yet it was not enough to completely lubricate his path, causing his sensitive tail to scrape painfully against the concrete floor. The chum has long since discarded his frying pan, seeing it as dead weight to slow his escape down. But to relieve his physical burden, he was forced to carry an even greater one within his heart instead. Grugk-Hal could feel the resentful eyes from his predecessors piercing his back, condemning him for throwing away both his family's prized heirloom and his own honor like mere trash.
And then, there was the warrior's shame of fleeing a fight… Grugk-Hal shook his snout.
No matter! Duty comes first! Self-redemption is still possible if I make it back! The Father will surely understand… - He objected, pushing his guilt down and using it as motivation to fuel his mad rush. The salmonid's movements were practiced and precise even when half-delirious, dodging obstacles and snapping corners without even slowing down. To ignore his growing fatigue, he forced his mind to remember their skirmish with the Octo-kin hunting party, and how things went so wrong.
Stupid Kartha-Lek! Stupid!
It was supposed to be just a simple scouting mission. Go to the top layer, investigate the seismic disturbance then report back to the Klan Father. All of this could've been done within an hour. But as soon as Kartha-Lek, the pack's leading Cohock, spotted the lone Human, his thirst for fame and power resurfaced. So the dishonorable rotfish did the typical thing that all bigwigs do, and sent his underlings to deal with the Octo-kins. Meanwhile, he and a select few intercepted the human via the floor's elevator. The fact that none of them showed up at their agreed rendezvous point afterwards, told Grugk-Hal of how the plan went.
Served the fat fuck right! - The chum smirked, showing broad crooked teeth that looked like they were haphazardly glued to his mouth. His other battle brothers all perished in glory, and he would've stood his ground alongside them if it wasn't for the Fossil's presence. Sadly, the Human was of more importance than Grugk-Hal's personal honor, and its capture could benefit the Klan as a whole. Thus, he tucked tail and fled. Maybe the Father could mend his honor if he reports this news back?
Yes! I made it! - Grugk-Hal celebrated in his head, as he exited into an even greater hallway, free of algae and dirt. Rows upon rows of "phantom fire" lanterns lined the walls, basking the place in a dim ethereal blue light. A long blue kelp carpet spread along the corridor's immense length, and at its end stood a vault door of epic proportion, flanked by two armored Cohock guards.
The Father's Throne Room! - Grugk-Hal thought in awe, the urge to kneel down and pray welling inside him. No matter how many times he'd visited the place, Grugk-Hal couldn't get rid of the feeling of being suppressed by its sheer size. The wounded chum approached the metal door with reverence, taking care not to stain the royal carpet with his slime and blood.
"HALT!" The guards bellowed loudly, leveling their sharpened forks at hia face. "STATE YOUR FAMILY NAME AND BUSINESS!"
"I-uh…" He paused to catch his breath, "...I am of the Grugk Family, and… I would like to present our scouting pack's results to The Father… P-please! This is urgent!"
"...YOU MAY ENTER HIS THRONE ROOM!" They announced again, before slamming down the butt ends of their forks with a reverberating "clank!". By their signal, the great door screeched open, pulled from the inside by a line of raggedy-looking chum slaves. Ears still ringing from the sound, he gulped and walked in…
… And by The Deep, what a sight it was!
The chamber was utterly gargantuan in size, a red kelp-knitted carpet leading from the entrance to the equally huge canopy bed in its center. Master-crafted weapons, fine war trophies, metal trinkets, ages-old Human artifacts and countless other treasures accumulated through generations formed great hills in its corners. Two lines of royal guards adorned in plated armors stood along the carpet, their engraved forks held tightly by their stoic motionless form. And dangling on the chamber's ceiling was a giant pendant light carved from salt rock, reflecting the nearby lanterns' light and filling the whole room with rays of rainbow. It was like he'd stepped tail into the Great Beyond itself!
"All hail His Grandest, Most Honorable Radiancy!" The court-heralding chum announced from beside the door, and the royal guards thumped their forks in perfect unison. With a nervous gulp, Grugk-Hal moved closer to the close-curtained canopy bed, stopping a dozen meters before it. He'd never truly spoken to The Father himself, having only received his commands through parchments and his royal aides. But out of all the gruff, mighty and awe-inspiring voices Grugk-Hal had imagined The Father to have, the crisp but oddly androgynous voice that greeted him definitely wasn't one of them.
"Oh? A chum? I might be aging, but isn't Kartha-Lek supposed to report in for his pack?" He asked in surprise, a hint of displeasure in his tone. Multiple female voices whispered from beside The Father's, most likely belonging to his harem of concubines.
"Please be patient, darlings. I have business to attend to." The Father hummed in response, "So… Grugk-Hal of the 214th Elite scouting pack, if I'm not wrong?" The sudden mention of his name almost gave him heart failure.
"Y-yes, Your Radiancy! Yes I am!" The chum mewled pathetically, before prostrating himself flat on the carpet.
"My Child, be not afraid. Stand yourself up for me." The angelic voice soothed. "Prostration is merely a court formality. And I'm not having a court right now, so you need not lower your Honor for me like that. We're both warriors, after all."
"Yes, Father!" He nodded frantically and complied.
"Now, please. I would like to hear of your pack's scouting trip. Talk in place of your leader." The Father asked calmly. And with a wavering voice, the chum began to retell everything that had happened to him in the last hour, from his pack leader's reckless plan, his comrades' honorable demise to the Human on the balcony. The more the story progressed, the harder it was for him to hold his tears, and the more jumbled-together his words became. In the end, the Salmonid was reduced to a sobbing incoherent mess, his soul crushed by guilt and shame. But the details that Grugk-Hal provided was enough to paint a full picture.
"Calm your tears, boy." The enigmatic Father sighed, "So, the way I see it... Your superior sent your pack to hold back the Octo-Kins, while he pursued the Human? Not only did you go against his order, but our sacred Code of Honor itself by fleeing from a melee? You did not even come to your lord's rescue, abandoning him to an unknown fate as you made your way back here? That is a grave crime to commit, young one." His voice no longer sounded heavenly to Gruk-Hal, despite still staying in a consistent tone. Now it sounded more like the accusing and apathetic voice of a High Judge, reading out his death sentence. Each word sent a needle deep into his heart, which at this point was already looking like a pincushion in shape.
My Idol… I've failed Him! - He cried in his head, the burden crushing his back getting heavier - I've failed Mom, Dad, Ancestors and my packmates. I've failed as a Salmonid of the Iron Baruuk Klan. I can't redeem myself no more. Only The Deep awaits me now…
"...Say, Child. I don't see your weapon with you?" The Father inquired. "Did you lose it along the way?"
Grugk-Hal lifted his wet snout from the tear-drenched carpet, "...Y-yes, Father… I-I am so, so sorry! …I have disappointed you and our Klan! I have… f-failed everyone! Please, our Most Radiant Father! Punish me!" He prostrated himself again, showing his softest, most vulnerable spot that is his belly.
The Father clicked his tongue, "tut tut tut… I'm not finished yet." He continued softly, not letting the sobbing chum apologize, "Even though your sin is great, your motive behind it was undeniably sublime. You understood a Human's value to our Klan, and chose to go against our ancient rules to bring that news back. It takes a great amount of courage and quick-thinking to make that decision, which not everyone has. I commend you, Grugk-Hal."
What? Surely my ear deceived me, didn't it? Am I being forgiven!? …He even praised me for it!? - Grugk-Hal didn't know how to react anymore. The last couple minutes had been such a wild emotional rollercoaster for him, that he could barely register them. But the chum could think about them later. What matters now is that he'd managed to clear his name and honor, and was recognized by The Father himself. The weight on his soul disappeared like it wasn't even there, and Grugk-Hal just wanted to explode with pure happiness! He silently recited a prayer to the Father's Name, and let his devotion for Him flourish to a new height-
"-But still, the Ancient Laws are absolute. No one opposes it without consequences."
'klich klick'
What's that sou-
'-KAPANG!!'
'...splat!'
Grugk-Hal's world exploded with pain. His ears rang from the thunderous sound, and a sharp acrid smell assaulted his nostrils. Through his blurred vision, the chum could make out the shape of the pendant light dangling above him.
…The ceiling? Why am I looking at the ceiling? - He wondered, feeling the rough concrete floor under his back with his fins. In confusion, Grugk-Hal darted his eyes down and saw that his tail along with a good chunk of his lower torso was gone, his green blood splattered all the way to the Father's bed. A metal pipe pointed through the bloodstained curtains straight at him, its tip still billowing smoke. A gold-colored fin reached out and racked the strange "pipe" backward, ejecting a small red cylinder to the floor.
"Justice must still be served, Gruk-Hal. But your valiant sacrifice will not be forgotten." The Father's now-muffled voice rang out again, as the pipe withdrew back into the fabrics. "Your honor is secured. May you live on in the Great Beyond, and your name be remembered for generations to come. Guards! Bring him to the meat processing plant!"
As two Cohocks scooped what was left of him into a bucket, Grugk-Hal couldn't help but smile. He'd just been shot with a Human relic! To be mercy-killed by the Father's fins, with something so precious as an artifact is one of the highest honors one could hope to achieve! And he, a random chum among millions like him, had just been granted it!
In his final moment, Grugk-Hal's heart beat loudly with joy, even with all the buckshot pellets embedded inside it.
…Deep-dammit. That was Dad's favourite pan. How am I going to explain to him up there!?
...
...
"Father, what is your course of action now? Shall we send another pack to hunt it down?"
"...No, Admiral. There's no point. The Human probably had already left the area. Send two recon packs up the surface to keep it running. Have patrols at areas 7A, 7C, 6B, 6C and 4C be ready to intercept its and the Octos' escape."
"Your wish is my command."
"Remember, keep the Human alive. Only I get to taste its divine flesh, and unlock the Old Secrets this place holds!"
"Please count on us, Father. When have I ever let you down?"
Another chapter out of the oven, by Yours Truly. Lots of characters yapping with this one, and we finally got a glimpse of the Big Bad behind the scene.
Thanks for reading, and please leave a kudo and comment if you like my work. It helps a lot with my motivation issues