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 collection 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 tra
nsmitted 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.
The monster convulsed and abruptly halted its struggles, turning slowly onto its side.
Randall tugged his knife free and returned to Dracchus as the kraken pulled the carcass closer. A wispy trail of red flowed in the monster’s wake, reminding Randall of campfire smoke drifting away on the breeze.
Releasing the spool from the underside of the gun, Dracchus handed the weapon to Randall and wound the line around his hand several times. The kraken nodded, pushed himself up from the bottom, and swam toward the Facility. Randall fell into place beside him. Ikaros swam between them, paws paddling frantically as he banked and spun in a display of underwater acrobatics.
Randall cast a glance back at the dead creature. So much for fish and bottom feeders.
The Facility’s buildings were dark shapes at the edge of Randall’s vision, distinguished more by the lights glowing on their exteriors than by their own forms. Randall doubted he and Dracchus had gone more than half a kilometer to reach the seaweed forest. That meant potential prey — and other predators — lurked within eyeshot of the kraken’s home. It was an oddly comforting realization. As different as things were down here, some of the fundamentals — the beauty, the bounty, and the ceaseless danger — were much the same as on land.
Randall’s stomach lurched as they proceeded straight off the rise. The bottom fell away below them, and for an instant, his body tensed in anticipation of the downward pull of gravity. It didn’t come.
Ikaros settled his paws on Randall’s back and rode with him to the Facility.
Two figures floated before the entry door, growing more distinct as Randall neared. Melaina and Rhea, both smiling. The child mimicked Randall’s wave.
Rhea caught his gaze and flashed maroon over her skin.
Heat flowed outward from Randall’s chest, rippling along his limbs. He knew what that color meant.
“Elevated heartrate detected,” Sam said. “Would you—”
“No, Sam. Be quiet.”
Randall wanted what that color meant.
Chapter 7
Pride welled within Rhea as the males swam back toward the Facility. Dracchus was the one hauling their kill, but it was Randall who drew her attention.
Melaina surged past Rhea, and Ikaros pushed off Randall’s back to meet the youngling. They swirled around one another, two children at play, producing a cloud of bubbles.
Rhea moved away from the pressurization chamber door, stopping in front of Randall. His body was encased in one of the skin-tight diving suits, accenting his pleasing form. Her eyes paused briefly on his growing erection.
She grinned and met his gaze.
He could not speak to her underwater, and he could not sign like a kraken, but the light in his eyes said all Rhea needed to know.
She’d waited weeks for this moment. Randall’s worth had been apparent to Rhea from the beginning, but her word would never have been enough. He had to prove himself capable to the other kraken. Had to prove that he could provide, that he could contribute. This would serve as that proof for most of her people.
More importantly, it would serve as proof to Randall.
Regardless of what any of them thought, Rhea wanted him.
Drifting closer to him, she placed a hand upon his chest, slid an arm around his neck, and coiled a fore tentacle around each of his legs. She tilted her head forward and pressed it against his mask, locking her eyes with his.
The tip of his tongue slipped out and trailed over his lips as he placed his hands on her hips. Heat flared within her core. She swayed her hips, rocking them back and forth to brush her closed slit against his hardness.
His grip on her tightened.
Were he kraken, he’d know what her movements meant. He’d already be sliding into her, connecting their bodies as he joined in the mating dance. Bu
t he was human, unable to survive in the water without his suit, and he knew little of their ways.
Rhea would show him what she could.
She moved her tentacles up his back and over his body as she continued to gyrate her hips. Randall’s lips parted, and his chest rose and fell rapidly, swelling against her breasts. His blue eyes darkened in desire.
His brows fell suddenly, and he gritted his teeth. His mouth moved as though he were speaking, but Rhea couldn’t hear anything. Shaking his head, he gently broke the contact between their bodies, took her hand, and pointed toward the door.
Rhea tilted her head and flashed maroon.
Randall nodded and gestured to the door again, tugging her toward it.
She grinned as excitement crackled through her. Turning away, she sought Melaina, finding the youngling and the prixxir beside Dracchus. Rhea signaled the large kraken.
Watch them?
Dracchus nodded and glanced at Melaina, motioning for her to follow. Accompanied by Ikaros, they hauled the kill toward one of the alternate entrances.
The light above the Facility’s main entrance flashed green and the door opened. Randall led Rhea inside, drawing her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist as the door closed and the water began to drain from the chamber. Once his head was above water, he tore off the mask and pulled the hood down.
“Finally.” Randall claimed her mouth in a scalding kiss.
Rhea wrapped her arms around him, returning the kiss with equal hunger, craving his taste.
His mouth left hers to trail along her chin and jaw, moving toward her siphon. The stubble on his cheeks scraped her skin, but it only heightened her arousal. Her breath quickened.
“Randall,” she rasped.
Keeping one arm around her waist, he moved his other hand to the side of her neck and placed his thumb along her jaw, tilting her head back to access the place between her neck and shoulder. Shivers ran over her flesh, and her breasts and sex ached with need.
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