Though many of the logs were mundane and uneventful, some lasting less than a minute, Captain Wright grew increasingly distressed with each passing day. His frustration became evident as his repeated declarations of having received no new orders or information from Central Command were delivered with progressively less emotion, while the unhealthy gleam in his eyes conversely intensified.
He detailed many of their normal operations, mentioning the base only had nineteen personnel apart from himself, as it had never entered full operation. His early note that they were well provisioned eventually turned into detailed weekly inventories of their stores. After the first few weeks, the Captain stopped shaving.
The formality of his introductions lapsed as the entries continued, but he maintained a calm demeanor through most of it, never seeming to communicate the scathing opinions belied by his expression.
Until the log he made on the one hundred and fourteenth day.
“Our provisions are lower than projected. Six soldiers violated standing orders, raided the stores and armory, and exited the facility during the night. Privates Thompson, Harris, Brown, and Everett—” Aymee started at the name, thinking of James and Maris, “—along with Corporal Jennings and Sergeant Brick.” His face contorted with rage, and he growled through his teeth. “These men swore an oath, and they have broken that oath by deserting their posts and stealing IDC property. I have sent word to the other bases that they are to be shot on sight, but I haven’t received any responses.”
Captain Wright dipped his head and dragged a hand over his haggard face. “We may be all that is left.”
Aymee and Arkon continued watching. Two weeks after the first desertion, Wright reported another — seven more men, gone during the night. Wright’s anger was far more pronounced, now, and he seemed to have aged years since the first log Aymee had selected. His cheeks were gaunt beneath his scraggly beard, his skin sickly-pale.
“I had sealed the armory and the storeroom,” he said in the log five days later, head bowed, and face lost in shadow, “to keep the men from helping themselves. Without order...none of this works. So, my second-in-command, the man I should have been able to trust until the end, led a group of them into both rooms, using the clearance granted by his rank, stocked them with food and weapons, and deserted.”
He sat in silence, his head shifting from side to side as though searching for something on the floor.
“The one man I thought I could trust. The one man I thought valued his honor and duty above everything else, the way a soldier should. Just another fucking rat.” He slammed his hand down; Aymee jumped at the loud bang. “If he shows his face here again, I will shoot him. I will unload every round from my service pistol into his fake smile, and then I will walk to the armory, reload my firearm, and empty it into him again.
“Only Lindholm and Warren are left. They’re the only two who are man enough to stick to their duty. Maybe the only two decent soldiers on this entire God-forsaken planet. And I can’t trust them. I don’t know why they haven’t left yet, but I know they’re just waiting for an opportunity.
“I left the armory and storeroom unlocked after the most recent desertion. I think...I need to watch the cameras. Hold this facility at all costs. We need to hold it. I need to hold it.”
Aymee’s finger hovered over the final log. She turned her head and stared at the remains on the floor. All he’d gone through had chipped away at his mind, leaving only blind rage and paranoia by the end. She knew what the last file would contain.
She opened it.
Captain Wright leaned on the console, one hand in his short-cropped hair and the other holding a familiar pistol. He was silent for a long while — the timer ticked away three minutes and twenty-two seconds before he spoke.
“Sergeant Lindholm and...and Private Warren. They have been executed under provision one-nineteen-charlie of the Interstellar Defense Coalition Judicial Code for attempted desertion of post. Provisions have run out. There are no supplies coming. No word. No word from anyone, anywhere.”
He shook his head, the gesture taking on an almost violent energy. “They were in the armory. Taking weapons against my orders. Arming themselves, maybe to...maybe to kill me? I detonated an incendiary device within the armory to prevent the stored weaponry from falling into enemy hands...tentacles…
“What the fuck are those things? They were on the Nautilus, and they…”
Suddenly, he stood up. He was wearing the dark blue and silver uniform; it looked surprisingly clean and crisp, and he’d shaved for the first time in months.
“Captain James Wright, officer number one-five-three-bravo-six. This is my final report. I have held my post for as long as is possible. I have engaged all the security doors and will be shifting the facility into emergency power to keep it as intact as possible when IDC forces reclaim it.”
He shifted his pistol to his left hand and saluted with his right.
Lowering his hand, he stepped forward, back straight, and reached for something on the console.
The hologram flickered, and static distortions ran through it. The bright light shifted to the same dim red glow that had illuminated the place when Aymee and Arkon first arrived.
“Manual emergency standby power switch engaged,” the computer said. “Shifting to standby power in five seconds. Five...four...three…”
“Captain Wright, signing off.” Though his figure was shadowed, Aymee saw him lift the gun to his mouth.
“Two...one…”
There was a boom and a flash of light, burning the image of Captain Wright with his head snapping backward into Aymee’s mind, and then the hologram dissipated.
Chapter 14
Golden shafts of morning sunlight streamed through the water as Arkon swam away from the Broken Cavern, creating contrasting patches of light and shadow on the seafloor. His gaze drifted over rocks encrusted with sedentary creatures of a hundred different colors and beds of seagrass swaying hypnotically in the current. He tracked the movement of long, sleek, shimmering fish and scuttling, hard-shelled creatures. The sparkling surface overhead gave way to the endless, varied blue of the distant ocean on the fringes of his vision.
It was beauty he longed to share with Aymee.
After watching the logs, they’d explored the Darrow Nautical Outpost, and discovered a few useful chambers — foremost being a kitchen like the one in the Facility and a room filled with thirty-two narrow beds. They’d pushed three of the beds together to create a space large enough to lie in side by side. Aymee had slept in Arkon’s embrace and hadn’t moved away from him once during the night.
He’d slept little; he knew she’d been more troubled by Wright’s final log than she admitted.
Aymee was still sleeping when he’d awoken, though she stirred when he slipped out of bed. She’d muttered a question — more a sound than a word — and grunted her understanding when he explained he was going hunting. Sound sleep had claimed her again within seconds.
She could have come — they had the diving suit he’d brought and had located several more in one of the chambers — but Arkon wanted her to rest. The last few days had been harrowing for Aymee, and even if she hadn’t physically exerted herself, the toll on her emotions was immense. She needed time to adjust, to recover, to find her joy again.
He’d delayed only long enough to gather Captain Wright’s remains as he left, so he could bring them out to sea.
While he took in the beauty of his surroundings — he was certain Aymee could perfectly capture the unique essence of morning light in the ocean through her painting — he kept watch for both predators and prey.
Though Aymee could survive on plants alone if necessary, they both needed meat to remain strong and healthy. As Aymee’s provider and protector, he refused to allow any of her needs to go unmet.
He drifted farther than he’d originally intended, into unfamiliar waters, and felt a small thrill at the prospect. This had been Jax’s experience for years — always pu
shing beyond the boundaries a little at a time, always seeking the unknown to discover it, break it, master it.
Of course, Jax himself had likely swum these waters long before, and a short hunting trip was hardly pushing any limits, but it was a taste of his friend’s normal experience. Strangely, Arkon had never shared Jax’s thirst for exploration, despite his insatiable curiosity. It had taken Aymee to open him up to new possibilities, to enable him to view the world through different eyes.
Was this what Macy had meant when she spoke about finally feeling alive after being numb for so long?
He realized suddenly that he’d been swimming for some time — long enough to notice a change in the angle of the sunlight. It may have been a quarter of an hour, perhaps twice that, but it was too far from Aymee either way. He didn’t want her alone for long, especially after she woke; the Broken Cavern’s isolating, restrictive ambience would not ease her already strained emotions.
He was about to turn around when a flash of pure blue from up ahead caught his attention. As he moved, the light did, too — it was a reflection.
Arkon pushed on. When the source finally became apparent, he halted and stared in wonder.
A portion of the coastal cliffside had collapsed. The rubble — chunks of rock in all sizes, globs of dark mud, and dead plants from the surface — lay piled at the base of the cliff. The rockslide had torn open the stone to reveal hundreds of halorium shards embedded within. More pieces were mixed into the debris.
The halorium gave off its own glow, most pronounced where it was shadowed, but rays of sunlight still caught the edges of the shards to produce blue-tinged reflections.
Arkon swam closer. He’d seen halorium on the seafloor many times, usually in small clusters, but he’d never found so much all at once. The surrounding water hummed with the halorium’s collective energy. Though it was safe to handle according to both the knowledge passed down through generations of kraken and the human records in the Facility, its power was undeniable, especially in such a concentration.
His skin tingled, and waves of energy slowly worked over his body. This material, these gem-like shards, had driven the creation of Arkon’s people. He imagined the kraken of old working here, sifting through the rubble for tiny glowing bits and prying larger pieces from the cliffside, stowing it all in shielded containers for transport.
The kraken owed everything to halorium. Because of it, they existed. Because of it, their home was secure and largely functional.
And, having listened to the Computer’s accounts of Halorian history, he knew halorium was the main reason for Aymee’s presence, too. Humans were not likely to have colonized the planet were it not for the discovery of halorium.
Arkon tilted his head; the sea was in constant motion, even if that motion was not always apparent. The shafts of sunlight danced with the surface’s movement, and barely perceptible impurities whirled in the current, but something else had floated through his vision.
He focused his gaze on the water between the light, and wonder overcame him.
Tiny particles drifted between the shafts of light, each emitting its own pale blue glow, too faint to perceive in the direct sun. They floated up from the halorium shards by countless thousands, as innumerable as the stars in the night sky, and were swept landward by the current in flowing, twisting streams.
Lost in his curiosity, he followed their path. The particles spread as they moved farther from their source, making them difficult to track, but they eventually led to a stretch of pale beach. Arkon lifted his head above the surface and looked toward the shore.
With the sun shining on the sand, it was impossible to tell whether the particles persisted on land — until a cresting wave cast a shadow beneath itself at the perfect angle. For an instant, points of blue light glowed in the shadow. Then they were swallowed up by the water.
I must bring Aymee here and show her this.
The thought of Aymee reminded Arkon abruptly of his reasons for coming out here. He looked skyward. Based on the position of the sun, he’d been gone at least an hour, and he hadn’t even attempted to make a catch. Heat spread over his skin — disappointment, frustration, and worry gnawed at him. He had to hurry. It wasn’t fair to leave her alone for so long.
His mind raced as he dove under, mentally sorting the easiest prey to obtain without the aid of tools.
Arkon broke the surface in the sub pen and glanced up. With the sky having mostly cleared, sunlight poured through the hole in the ceiling, overpowering the closest man-made lights, many of which had come on after the power was restored. He’d paused that morning as he left to hunt and stared at the stained, worn walls and ceiling. Somehow, despite the brightness, the pen felt more desolate now than ever before.
Before the power had been restored, the ceiling and walls were always dominated by shadow, even when the sun was shining; it had granted the massive chamber an air of mystery as intriguing as it was ominous. The effect had created a certain beauty, allowing the sunlight and its reflections on the water to highlight some of the precise edges and lines while leaving everything else to the imagination.
It reminded him of what Aymee had said about the mind filling in the details; perhaps Arkon’s mental image was simply more appealing than the truth.
The artificial lights left nothing hidden — even the water was illuminated from within by lights in the walls and floor. The precision of this place’s construction was impressive, but apart from the painting on the wall, it seemed largely uninspired. Years of damage and wear only made it seem dreary and lonely.
He swam to the ladder and climbed up to the platform. Aymee was nowhere to be seen; was she still asleep?
After taking a few minutes to fill a container with seawater and store the single fish he’d caught inside — the fish was large enough to provide them both a single meal, at least — he went up the steps to the second level and entered the short hallway. The door at the end slid open with a groan after he punched in the number sequence.
He moved through the threshold and along the corridor, allowing his eyes to wander, and found himself comparing it to home — Pontus Alpha, as Captain Wright had called it. The interior of this place was cleaner, but the higher ceilings and concrete walls made it feel colder, even though the climate control systems kept the air comfortable. The contours and lines in the Facility were sleeker and smoother, which dulled the edge of heartless precision that seemed to have gone into constructing such locations.
He turned down one of the intersecting corridors and was heading toward the room they’d slept in when the door ahead slid open. Aymee emerged, wearing her diving suit with a mask tucked under her arm. Her long, curly hair was pulled back from her face; he’d never seen her wear it that way before. The suit accentuated her long, graceful limbs and molded itself to her every curve.
Arousal stirred within him, a dull heat in his lower abdomen that spread throughout his loins. His gaze fixed on the V between her legs. The heat intensified, and his shaft pulsed. He forced his eyes back up as she neared.
She smiled at him. Though the bruise on her cheek was already fading, its presence rekindled his anger; he’d seen her come to harm and had been unable to prevent it.
“How was your hunt?” she asked.
“It was not quite as fruitful as I had intended, but we will have some meat for today, at least.”
“Then it was a success.” She kissed his cheek and caught his hand as she walked past. He followed her lead. “Let’s go swimming. I want to try out the suit. I’ve already gone through the tutorial with Sam.”
Arkon’s gaze dipped. The suit cupped her swaying backside, leaving little to his imagination.
He fought a surprisingly strong urge to reach forward, clutch her hips, and draw her back against him.
“Macy never went into detail on everything these suits are capable of,” she said as she led him toward the submarine pen. “I can’t wait to try it out in the open sea.”
Her words
reminded Arkon of the beauty he’d witnessed during his hunt. Aymee would have appreciated it immensely, but there’d be future opportunities to take her.
“It is for the best that you learn its functions here, where the dangers are minimal.”
The door to the submarine pen opened and they moved through it. Aymee walked him to the railing and didn’t release his hand as she looked at him, smiling. “I suppose I should be honest and tell you that I’m not a strong swimmer.”
Arkon couldn’t help but smile back at her; the hint of guilt in her expression was endearing. “The suit is meant to help that. And I will be nearby the entire time.”
“I know.” She squeezed his hand and released it, peering over the rail. “Since the storm’s let up, I thought now would be good. The water is calm.”
“Perhaps that will lend itself well to a lesson. Even when the sea appears calm on the surface, there are currents running below, out of sight, and they will carry you away if you are not ready for them.” He gently took her wrist and raised it, indicating the white piece attached to the suit. “This will help you immensely, but you cannot allow yourself to grow complacent because of it.”
“I won’t.”
Arkon nodded. It required a surprising amount of willpower to stop himself from listing all the potential dangers; he was the one who’d said life was meaningless without risk, and there was no controlling the fickleness of chance.
“Come.” He led her down the steps to the lower platform.
“Macy said Sarina is already swimming.”
“She is. Kraken can essentially swim immediately following birth, though it is not the most graceful sight.”
“It’s amazing. Our newborns are helpless. It takes them months to get strong enough to move themselves around. When do kraken learn to walk? It is walking, isn’t it?”
Arkon glanced down at his tentacles. He’d never really thought about it before; walk was one of many words the kraken rarely used, as it had never seemed applicable to them. “Dragging may be more accurate. Because of the way my people typically handle the raising of our young, I have not spent much time with children until recently, so I cannot answer you with any certainty. I know only that it does not come as naturally to us as swimming, and it involves using our muscles in ways we are typically unused to. Our skeletal structure does not extend below our waists, so our stability outside the water is a matter of the musculature in our tentacles.”
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