by Smith, S. E.
Randall shrugged. “Yeah.”
“These situations are different. If the beast leaves, it will not call its kind to attack this place.”
“Neither will I.”
“How can I trust that?”
“Because there are people in here I care about too much to put them in that kind of danger.”
“You want to prove yourself to Rhea.”
It stung a bit, hearing his primary motive spoken out loud, but that made it no less true.
No matter how much skill and dedication Randall had displayed, there’d always been rangers who thought he’d been given command of his own team only because his father was the man in charge. Cyrus had been among the most vocal, especially while they were in the field. Randall had never revealed how much it had bothered him because some part of him had suspected they were right.
He wouldn’t allow it to be the same with the kraken. This was a fresh start, a chance to earn his place, to succeed or fail based solely on his own capabilities. And he was competing against beings who were physically superior to him in almost every way.
“Yes,” he said.
“Do you know what this would mean for you? Kraken females are few. Claiming one for yourself will mean constant competition.” Dracchus looked Randall up and down and shook his head. “Even the weakest of our males is more than a match for you.”
“Isn’t that why you agreed to let me carry this?” Randall patted the holstered pistol on his hip. There’d been a few demands to have it taken away from him after the incident with Kronus, but Dracchus, Jax, and Arkon had overridden them.
“You cannot shoot your way through every confrontation.”
“That’s almost funny coming from you; Macy told me how you wanted to fight your way into The Watch to rescue Jax.”
Dracchus furrowed his brow. “You are comparing two different situations again.”
“Yeah. That’s totally valid when it comes to comparison.”
“Perhaps I should have left Arkon to deal with you. He is better able to understand the way you humans speak.”
Randall smirked. “But he doesn’t like me as much as you do.”
“I have not decided whether I like you or not.”
Perhaps it was his imagination, but Randall thought there was a hint of humor in Dracchus’s eyes.
“That puts you ahead of Arkon, I’d say.”
Dracchus fell silent and lowered his gaze to Ikaros.
Randall concentrated on keeping his expression neutral to hide his anxiety. Dracchus could be reasoned with, but he was what the rangers would’ve called, with the utmost respect, a hard ass.
“Come with me, human,” Dracchus finally said.
Releasing a long, quiet breath, Randall followed Dracchus through corridors that had become maddeningly familiar over the last several weeks. Ikaros’s claws clicked on the floor as the prixxir trailed close behind.
The Facility had no shortage of dark, abandoned rooms that no longer served a purpose; they entered one of them, and Randall stopped in front of a desk.
Dracchus rounded the desk and bent down, feeling for something on its underside.
Before Randall could ask what the kraken was doing, a panel on the wall behind the desk slid upward, revealing an alcove a meter wide and two meters tall with three shelves built into it. Diving suits — made of sleek black material that stretched to fit the wearer — were folded neatly along the top, each with an accompanying mask. The lower shelves held piles of weaponry. Harpoon guns, rifles, pistols, heat guns, all stacked haphazardly into a space never intended to house them.
Randall cringed at the sight. Firearms were an integral part of life in Fort Culver, always treated with care and respect. It hurt a little to see this mess, especially when the weapons down here were in near perfect condition; as far as he knew, the only use they might’ve seen was when the kraken overthrew the humans in the Facility hundreds of years before.
“You are not meant to know of this,” Dracchus said, straightening. “I am extending you my trust, Randall. Break it, and I will break you.”
Coming from a creature that had to be well over three meters long if he lay down and weighed more than four hundred kilograms, it was no idle threat.
“You’ll have to get in line for that, Dracchus.” Randall stepped toward the alcove and looked over the weaponry with wonder. There were several models of firearms that he’d only heard about through historical holos, and he’d never held anything that was in such good condition. Everything the rangers possessed had been passed down from generation to generation, repaired and rebuilt with whatever parts and methods were available as years passed and the colonization became history.
A chirrup from behind caught Randall’s attention. He turned to the desk to see Ikaros atop it. The prixxir walked to the edge nearest Dracchus and lifted a paw, brushing it lightly over the kraken’s tentacle. Dracchus ran his palm over the prixxir’s head and back, folding down the little top fin along its spine.
“Suit in and select a harpoon gun. I will meet you at the main entrance,” Dracchus said.
“Suit up.”
Dracchus grunted questioningly.
“It’s suit up, not suit in.”
“If you understand what I mean either way, human, what is the issue?”
Randall shrugged as he unzipped his jumpsuit. “Can’t really argue your point.”
“Hurry, human.” With that, Dracchus exited the room. The sound of the kraken’s tentacles moving along the corridor floor gradually faded.
After stripping out of his clothes, Randall donned a PDS — personal diving suit — and lifted the mask, which appeared to be little more than a clear piece of glass, into place. The suit automatically sealed the mask to the hood. A faint tingle spread over Randall’s skin as the suit’s systems came online.
“Hello, Sam,” he said.
“Hello, diver seven-seven-four,” replied Sam, the suit’s internal computer.
Randall selected a harpoon gun and slung it over his shoulder before making his way toward the building’s main entrance.
He grew accustomed to the feel of the suit as he walked. He’d only worn such a suit once — when he was brought to the Facility. His injuries, paired with the overwhelming nature of the situation that had seen him in the suit to begin with, had proven too distracting for him to learn the feel and functions of the PDS that first time.
Ikaros brushed his side along Randall’s leg on a few occasions during the journey, releasing uncertain chirrups as he did so. Randall felt the slight pressure against his calf, but the sensation was different, distant, more a suggestion of a feeling than the real thing.
Dracchus awaited at the door to the pressurization chamber. “Do you know our signals, human?”
Though the audio was high quality, there was something about the way the suit relayed sound that was off. It seemed more pronounced with Dracchus’s voice. Perhaps it was the kraken’s deep bass, or simply the age of the device.
“No, they’re quite a bit more complicated than anything I’m familiar with,” Randall replied. From what little he’d seen, the kraken had an entire language of gestures involving all their limbs and their ability to change color. It was as similar to the simple hand gestures the rangers used in the field as a log cabin was to a pile of fallen branches.
Dracchus’s signature frown returned. “Perhaps it would be best to wait.”
“Hell no! We’ll figure it out. We’re not going far anyway, right?”
“I did not plan to.”
“Perfect. No problem, then.” Randall stepped closer to the door.
“Do you wish to exit the base?” Sam asked, sounding almost as excited as Randall felt.
“Yes.”
Dracchus cast a questioning glance at Randall, but the chamber door slid open before the kraken could voice an inquiry.
The trio moved into the pressurization chamber; Randall first, with Ikaros and Dracchus close behind. They were a collect
ion of beings that shouldn’t have had a place together, that shouldn’t have found common ground or common purpose.
Randall’s heart thumped as the door closed behind them and the room flooded. Ikaros splashed through the water, chirruping happily.
“Remain close at all times,” Dracchus said. “We will hunt only fish and bottom feeders, keeping the Facility within view as much as possible.”
Randall rounded his lips and released a slow breath. Anticipation thrummed through him, speeding his heartbeat and heating his blood. The water rose past his waist.
Some small part of him wondered why he wasn’t planning an escape.
This wasn’t his world, these weren’t his people. What future could he have down here, really? Half the kraken wanted to kill him and most of the others didn’t care if he lived or died.
His sister and father cared, though. How long would it be before they came looking? If Jon Mason made it back to the fort with news of the kraken’s existence, Randall’s father would come. And when they discovered Randall was missing…
He didn’t want Elle caught up in any of this. He’d nearly lost her once already, long ago, and couldn’t bear that pain again. As much as it hurt to think he’d never see her again, at least she was safe at Fort Culver. But if their father brought her here, used her skills against the kraken, she’d be in immense danger.
He cast those worries aside as the water lifted his feet off the floor and he was completely submerged. None of this was easy, none of it was without danger, but when he thought of Rhea, Melaina, Ikaros, and the others, he knew it was worth the risks.
Ikaros darted around Randall, thick tail moving like a paddle to propel the prixxir through the water. Randall smiled, watching the little creature until a green light came on over the exit.
“Pressurization complete,” Sam chimed.
Randall slipped the harpoon gun off his shoulder, ensured the safety was engaged, and fastened the loop dangling from its grip around his wrist. He met Dracchus’s gaze and the two exchanged a nod. The kraken reached forward and pressed the button on the wall, and the door slid open.
Ikaros bolted into the open water. Randall and Dracchus emerged a moment later, watching the creature zip along. The prixxir used its webbed paws for increased mobility, keeping its legs folded along its belly. Randall didn’t know if Ikaros was faster than a kraken, but there was no question of the prixxir being faster than a human, suit or no suit.
As Ikaros swam farther away, his form darkening in the cerulean water, fear gripped Randall’s insides. It was one thing to say he’d be fine with Ikaros leaving, but now that the possibility stared him in the face it was impossible to ignore.
The door closed behind them, but Randall was only distantly aware of it, just as he was only distantly aware of Dracchus floating nearby.
Keeping his eyes on Ikaros, Randall swam forward. His limbs moved with surprising ease, as though the water put up no resistance, and each motion propelled him farther than it seemed it should have. He was certain his muscles would eventually ache if only because they were unused to the movements, but even his shoulder felt good for now.
He glanced down. The seafloor below was a mixture of sand, stone, and scattered vegetation, as varied and vibrant as anything on land. His eyes roved over his surroundings, drinking in the details within his limited field of view — on the surface, one could see for kilometers under the right conditions, but down here everything succumbed to the blue haze of unending water looming in all directions. It was at once immense and oppressive.
Something rubbed against his leg. He glanced down to see Ikaros’s tail curled around his calf. The prixxir chirruped — the sound was higher and eerier in the relative silence of the ocean — and released its loose hold to swim around Randall in quick circles.
A flash of color to the right caught Randall’s attention — Dracchus. The kraken reverted his skin to its normal shade and motioned for Randall to follow.
They moved at an easy pace, keeping a few meters above the bottom, and approached a jutting rockface. Coral and tall, swaying stalks of purple and green seaweed ran along its crest. As they neared the exposed stone, Randall noted tiny creatures moving over it and weaving in and out of its holes and recesses — some looked like fish, others were wormlike or serpentine, and yet more resembled hard-shelled insects.
Dracchus led them up the steep incline, gesturing for Randall to keep near the rock. Ikaros fell into place beside Randall, whiskers twitching and eyes darting from sea creature to sea creature. Somehow, the prixxir remained close, resisting what must’ve been an instinctual drive to pursue prey.
As they reached the crest, the extent of the vegetation atop it became clear — this wasn’t a field of seagrass, but an underwater forest, granting only fleeting glimpses of the larger creatures lurking within. Some of the fish drifting through the stalks appeared to be more than a meter long, though it was impossible to know for sure.
Dracchus slowed to a stop three or four meters from the edge of the seaweed and sank to the sand. Randall lowered himself nearby. Only Ikaros ventured closer, dropping to slither along the bottom on his belly, going so far as to slip the tip of his snout into the vegetation. His whiskers swept forward and brushed along the stalks, and his spine fin rose and fell.
Randall turned to Dracchus. The kraken went through a series of gestures — pointing to his eyes and then the weed, flashing his skin a shade of green just off that of the vegetation, and then indicated Randall’s harpoon.
Watch for something green in the vegetation and shoot? Randall could only hope that was the kraken’s meaning.
Altering his color to match the plants, Dracchus crept forward, drawing himself along with his hands, and vanished into the swaying forest. Randall shifted into a sitting position, leaned back, and swung the harpoon gun into his hands, angling it slightly upward and releasing the safety. He ran his eyes along the seaweed to watch for movement beyond the ordinary. Ikaros moved back and forth along the bottom of Randall’s vision, whiskers alert, slow but impatient.
The diving suit transmitted audio from the surrounding water, but it was muted, and Randall couldn’t be certain which sounds were normal. His gaze drifted toward the surface high overhead, through which shafts of sparkling light poured to cast restless, web-like shadows on the seafloor. The ocean cradled him, making him feel weightless. All in all, it was a soothing environment, one that wanted to lull him into relaxation and comfort.
And for that, he didn’t trust it. The jungle was always at its most dangerous when it was quiet; the ocean’s similar quiet set off all his internal alarms.
The first hint that something was approaching came from Ikaros. The prixxir halted his restless swim-walking and raised his head, whiskers flaring. He backed away from the edge of the vegetation with his spine fin raised.
Randall followed Ikaros’s gaze with his own and adjusted his hold on the harpoon gun. Something moved within the stalks, and the water displaced by its movement rippled through the seaweed. Whatever this was, it was big. That it might’ve been Dracchus didn’t cross Randall’s mind. The big kraken took hunting as seriously as Randall did, and wouldn’t pull such a stunt — not even to prove some sort of point.
Inhaling, Randall moved two fingers over the lever that served as the harpoon gun’s trigger. His heartbeat quieted, his thoughts stilled, and even the anticipation churning his gut couldn’t break his focus.
A sea monster erupted from the seaweed in a torrent of rushing water.
Visual information flooded Randall’s mind over a fraction of a second. The creature was easily five meters long, its body shaped like a cylinder with two sides pressed in. Pale scars crisscrossed its mottled purple-and-green hide. Its mouth was on the underside of its wedge-shaped head, a pair of mandibles drawing aside to reveal a ring of jagged, uneven teeth.
Ikaros darted aside, avoiding the charging creature. The thing’s mouth looked nasty, but it was disproportionately small compared to its
body. A predator, but one that hunted small prey despite its impressive size. Randall recognized the green of its skin as the same color Dracchus had shown him.
Without further thought, Randall aimed the harpoon gun and squeezed the trigger. The gun thumped. The harpoon sped forward amidst a cloud of angry bubbles. Gleaming in the filtered sunlight, the head of the harpoon punched into the creature’s mouth and burst out the top of its head.
The creature’s body convulsed and thrashed, and it veered to Randall’s right. The line connecting the harpoon to the gun went taut. Digging his heels into the sand, Randall held tight. The weight and momentum of the creature threatened to tear his arms out of their sockets, and sharp pain radiated from his bad shoulder. The strap tightened around his wrist.
“Physical indicators of distress detected,” Sam said. “Do you require assistance?”
The creature’s thrashing diminished, but it continued to drag Randall along. His feet plowed through loose sediment until they finally struck solid rock. The muscles of his thighs and calves screamed with exertion. Something coiled around his leg again. He glanced down to see Ikaros there, paws braced against the rock as though helping Randall hold firm.
A powerful hand settled on Randall’s shoulder.
Dracchus entered Randall’s peripheral vision and reached forward with his free hand to grasp the harpoon tether. Spreading his tentacles over the rock, he pulled, reclaiming a bit of slack on the line.
The monster renewed its struggles, clouding the water with crimson.
The hand on Randall’s shoulder moved up, tapping him at the base of the skull before Dracchus extended his arm and pointed at the impaled creature.
Randall nodded. Removing his wrist from the loop, he handed the harpoon gun to Dracchus and drew his knife from its sheath on his thigh. He forced his breathing to steady. Without pausing long enough to overthink it, he pulled himself along the tether, avoiding the creature’s waving tail. Before he reached the small, toothy mouth, he released the line and swam over its head.
Dropping onto its back, he wrapped his legs around the creature’s body to anchor himself in place. Its thrashing strengthened. Gritting his teeth, he raised the knife and slammed it down. The blade punched into the creature’s hide just behind its skull.