Chapter Text
The ringing silence of the Octo Domes was broken the same way it always was each morning. Warbly, tinny music blared through old speakers, echoing through the dim, shabby halls, wrapped through with exposed piping and wires.
"Hey You! You’re here to be the most capable and downright serviceable Octo of all time, right? You’ve grown up to be a very important soldier, and you want to rank up the ladder? Help our Commander retake territory from the Inkling Menace? If so, and clearly you are, then you have to know the basics!"
"Octarians are born in the underground thanks to the Inkling Menace. But our supreme and totally rad leader, Commander Octavio, has made some inkredible progress in defending ourselves and retaking what little we have! So gear up and take your goggles and ‘leet uniform! Once you’ve got them, take your Octo Shot and your Splat Bombs. Aim steadily, get your finger on the ZR trigger, and ink Your way up to the battlefield! You can launch your own sub weapon in case the enemy is out of your range. Those meddling squids will never expect it!"
"Got all of that? Perfect. Take the jump pad right to our base and let yourself be a true service for the resurgence of the Octarians. In Commander Octavio we must aid and help!"
The same slogan, the same sayings. Marina knew it all too well. Every morning, at the same time, those words were her alarm. Through every promotion, those words carried her into each day. Now, she was among the first in the Army to hear it in the morning. It was 5 AM. Everyone was barely waking up. But not for long. The Octarians take every day to its fullest.
With a yawn, the teal-haired Octarian started her morning routine. She paused to look at the mirror. She frowned a little at the sight of her short hair, running her fingers through the tentacles. It left more to be desired. She shook her head, dismissing the thought. She snatched up her goggles from their display and slid them on under her tentacles. Four strands of seaweed sprouted from the base of her head. Her tank filled with ink, topping off with a sharp SHLING! Sound. She was ready and focused.
She strode out of her quarters and made her way to the intercom room, dimly lit by buttons. Settling down at the desk, she pressed down on a large red button in the center. Her voice echoed through the entire base, making her wince at the sound.
“Everyone up! It’s a new day! Gear up, take your essentials, and head straight to your assignments! Repeat, gear up, take your essentials, head straight to your assignments!”
She repeated this command several times before releasing the button. She heard octarians stirring in their quarters and quickly bustling into the halls. It satisfied her, knowing everyone was doing their part.
She slipped out into the hall once again, and proceeded past several early risers that were already geared up from the first alarm. All the way down the hall, one dark room sat silent. That was her destination. She hesitated to crack the door open and shed light inside it, knowing that Acht was so sensitive to it. She opened it barely enough to squeeze inside, her eyes glowing in the darkness. Without the lights on, the Octarian Base was effectively pitch black in non-essential areas, but they had long since adjusted themselves to the darkness.
“Acht?” Marina croaked, not wanting to raise her voice too much and startle them.
A pair of red shades slid off of the bed stand, settling onto the gaunt, pale green face. That was Marina’s indication that they were awake. Two glowing red dot eyes were displayed on the shades. They briefly flickered before turning into closed, happy looking eyes. Acht reached for the bed stand again and tapped it in response.
Marina gasped in excitement, her eyes lighting up. “Oh my cod- Is- Is that a response?” She wondered, partially speculating to herself.
Acht stared back at her, tapping the bed stand once again - somewhat rhythmically, with an intent focus, as though trying with all their might to convey something. Marina approached them, watching the way their fingers drummed. She frowned thoughtfully, her mind whirring. It wasn’t morse code - she knew that. But the way they stared expectantly back at her made it clear that there was some pattern they were aiming for.
“That’s amazing! Oh, Acht!” Marina exclaimed, throwing herself onto their bed beside them, her glowing eyes sparkling with relief. “I’ve been so worried. Can you try more?”
The expression on Acht’s visor softened warmly, even if their face remained as stoic as ever, ever since they were recovered from the Deep Sea. They shifted to look at her somewhat directly, seeming to be deep in thought. Then they started making a gesture, shaking their hands as they were held flat in the air.
Marina blinked at them, the wheels turning in her head. “What…?”
Acht repeated the gesture more emphatically, bobbing their head in the air.
Marina shook her head in confusion. “I- I don’t understand.”
Acht huffed out, their shoulders slumping. They seemed to all but give up the interaction entirely, turning to flop down onto their bed. They curled up into a ball, leaving Marina at a loss for words.
“Hey… It’s okay-” Marina began, reaching to lay a hand on their shoulder. They flinched, flicking their arm and shoulder as though the gentle touch burned their skin. “Oh my cod- I’m sorry!” She yelped, recoiling backwards and stumbling off of the bed. “I didn’t mean to… I mean, I forgot that- it was a force of habit…”
Acht didn’t respond, they only turned into a tighter ball, like a frightened animal hoping for the danger to leave.
“I’m sorry…” Marina murmured weakly, her voice giving out. “I’ll- I’ll be back later. The medics will be here too, okay?” She added, backing to the door and fumbling with the handle. She quickly slipped out, her hearts hammering. There was a lump in her throat as she leaned against the door from the outside of the room. There was no amount of training that prepared her for this - frankly, no one had the slightest clue what had happened to the octoling, not even the medics. This was an anomaly that baffled even their most experienced medics.
Still buzzing with shock and concern for her friend, Marina rushed to her meeting with Commander Octavio. Her sudden rise in rank startled even her, and with every meeting, she found herself starstruck by him. He sat across from her after they exchanged pleasantries and updates, tentacles folded, with his brow raised in a questioning manner.
“...I also have an update on the status of Acht Mizuta.” Marina said after her cursory report, doing her best to hide the shaking in her voice. “Today, they recognized I was talking to them, and… I think they tried to communicate back.”
Commander Octavio’s brow rose even higher in intrigue. “What did they say?”
“Well, they didn’t… say anything. They tried to communicate with me with some kind of tapping, and gestures… But nothing coherent, as far as I can tell.” Marina admitted, her shoulders slumping. “They gave up after trying for a few minutes.”
“So, no new information about what happened to them?” The Commander replied, rubbing his forehead with his tentacle. His brows furrowed down, deep with worry. “This is troublesome. I can’t rest with an unidentified threat. There’s been too many missing soldiers, and now Acht…” He mused, a heavy sigh wracking his swim form.
“My apologies, Sir.” Marina quickly blurted out, “I shouldn’t come to you with a lack of intel.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” The Commander rumbled, looking at her sharply. She shrunk back a little under his gaze, but when she allowed herself to meet his eyes, she found that they weren’t unkind. “I’m just worried. We don’t need another threat along with those meddling--” He continued on, his eyes blazing until he caught his frustration boiling over, and he cut himself off. He groaned and pinched between his eyes, rubbing along the small space. “Do you at least have the finished blueprints?”
Marina felt her stomach drop. She sat there with her mouth agape and struggled to form words for a moment. She had entirely forgotten in her rush. The Commander watched her, waiting for an answer. She shot up from her seat in alarm, “I’m so sorry, Commander! After the talk with Acht, I was so focused on that, I-” She babbled, before shutting her eyes and bowing to him apologetically. “I have them in my quarters. I’ll go get them.” She said, her tentacles drooping low.
She was midway through flying out of the room, but his voice halted her in her step as though freezing her in place.
“Stop.”
Marina hesitated, before turning to face him.
“We both have a lot on our minds, Ms. Ida. Just come prepared next time.” The Commander said, before excusing her with a wave of his tentacle.
As Marina nodded and dipped her head, she caught a glance of some of the intel he had gathered about the threat above among his papers. Her mind buzzed with curiosity about what new information he had gathered. But she knew well that he only shared select information, even with her. If there was one thing she knew, it was how secretive the Commander was about inklings.
After getting the approval for her blueprints, Marina continued on to the Mechanic Bay. There, she was the highest authority, and she did her best to stand tall as she guided the mechanics on her designs as they constructed them. This took up most of her time through the day until it was time for her to retire back to her office.
Her office was dim, lit up with the green glow of thick computer monitors that took up most of the wall. Their technology was old - large, boxy CRT monitors with gray and beige casing and keyboards yellowed with age. The screens mapped out the layout of their base and territory in bright green lines and shapes. Her desk was piled up with empty energy drink cans and half-finished schematics for her planned weapons. Close to the computer mouse was a stack of books marked with the symbol similar to the shape of the Inkling Menace. The pages were marked with sticky notes. Marina sat down hard in her chair, sighing as her gaze fixed on the curved screens. She rewound the recording of the day’s activities, displayed with their sonar map, before setting it to a time-lapse, yawning as the usual movement of the soldiers played out. The little octo-shaped icons jittered around, before cycling to their next stations and jittering there. The pattern continued like this until it caught up to real time sonar readings, soothing the Elite into a relaxed state.
But then something else blipped onto the map on the 8th Kettle Station. A large, strange shape. As soon as she noticed it and refreshed the reading, it was gone. She scowled, and leaned in closer at the screens. That was strange. Normally, anything Octarian was shaped like an octo. And inklings were shaped like triangles. This was something else entirely. An unidentified threat, just like Commander Octavio said! She stood up suddenly in her seat, her hearts racing. She pressed down on the worn rewind button for a brief second, replaying what she had nearly missed.
The shape blipped onto the screen, as though it was there only for a moment, staying ominously still.
But that was enough to raise an alarm within her. She snatched her communicator, immediately paging the Octarian Soldier that was stationed there. “I need a status report on your Station 8 right now. Do you see anything?” She barked.
“Wh- Uh, no. I don’t… Sorry.” The voice came in with the crunch of static.
“Look around. You don’t see anything unusual? I just saw an unidentified shape on the radar.” Marina pushed, her hand balling into a fist on the desk.
“I’m looking now.” The Octarian reassured her, oddly dismissive. A few minutes later, they answered again. “It’s just me out here, Ma’am.”
Marina had been gripping the desk, but hearing that, she flopped back down in her seat in a mixture of relief and frustration, rubbing her hand on her forehead. “I saw something, though. Stay alert, please. Report immediately if you see anything .” She urged. “I’ll have my communicator with me all night.”
Marina followed her word, and struggled to fall asleep. It ate at her until she eventually drifted off. How could something appear on the radar without the stationed guard noticing? They would have heard the kettle whistle if someone had traveled through there.
It felt like a moment later, that the same words blared on the intercom, marking the start of a new morning.
"Hey You! You’re here to be the most capable and downright serviceable Octo of all time, right? You’ve grown up to be a very important soldier, and you want to rank up the ladder? Help our Commander retake territory from the Inkling Menace? If so, and clearly you are, then you have to know the basics!"
Before the rest of the monologue could finish, Marina was up and out of bed, surprisingly not groggy despite her fitful sleep. Halfway through her morning routine, she realized she had fallen asleep in her uniform, saving her a step. She hurried over to the intercom room, the rusty hallways feeling a little more cold this morning. She rubbed her arms as she settled down to make her announcement.
“Everyone up! It’s a new day! Gear up, take your essentials, and head straight to your assignments! Please stay vigilant today and report any suspicious activities.” Her tone was firm and strict, as it had to be, but internally, she could feel a chill running up her spine.
When she went to check on Acht, they still weren’t responsive, even when Marina pressed. They kept staring at the wall away from her, sitting upright with their back rigid. It didn’t help the pressing dread gripping in the pit of Marina’s stomach.
Despite her worries, however, she made sure to pick up her blueprints from her quarters before meeting with Commander Octavio once again. She swallowed down her thoughts once again to put her best foot forward in presenting her newest design.
“...Ink-powered technology. By using an Octarian to operate the machine with their ink, we’ll be enhancing the abilities of our soldiers as well as eliminating the need for electricity or fuel. We won’t need to risk going into enemy territory while we’re resolving this unknown threat.”
This was her boldest idea yet - but she was very confident in it. She worked hard on her prototypes, and they worked. Now she just needed to interpret those prototype designs into a bigger scale.
Commander Octavio was inspecting the blueprints curiously, his arms crossed as always. But at her words, he looked up at her. “Ink-powered? Hmmm… I see…” He mumbled, leaning in closer to get a better look at the schematic. He thought about it and murmured to himself for a long time before he finally spoke again. “I can see this being a possible alternative. But realistically, I can’t see ink being powerful enough to operate a machine on this scale.” He grumbled.
“It is, Commander! The Octobot King already partially runs on ink, and you’ve used that successfully already. I’ve tested out my design on small-scale prototypes. I promise you, I am confident in this new approach.” Marina declared eagerly, her fists on the table as she stood up.
The Commander’s brows rose as he looked up at her. “...I admire your ambition, Miss Ida. However, I feel like this project is a risk - we would still need to invest time into testing this new design out. We know electricity and fuel works already, we can keep our production line moving faster if we follow what we already know.” He said.
Marina’s mouth quickly opened to pipe in, but he continued.
“ - More than that, Miss Ida, that is a tall order for you to place on yourself. I’ve entrusted you with a lot, and I recognize that more than you even realize. Don’t overexert yourself.” He said in a gentle warning tone.
Marina’s shoulders slumped.
“Once we’ve identified this threat and taken care of it, I believe we’ll have more time to invest in this.” The Commander continued, leaning back in his seat. “Now, if you can redesign this to work like our other machines, then we’ll talk.”
“...Yes, Sir.” Marina said quietly, gathering the blueprints in her arms. She felt a mixture of disappointment and frustration boiling under the surface. On one hand, she wanted to keep arguing on behalf of her idea - she burned with a desire to make this happen. But it was quickly sputtering out, knowing she needed to obey his orders.
“I appreciate you for your work. I mean it.” Commander Octavio reassured, but it was poor compensation to her.
She went on to her next tasks with her frustration still eating at her - she almost didn’t process that an octoling had clumsily bumped into her shoulder as they passed her. She mumbled “Sorry…!”
However, as she glanced over to them, she recognized them. She knew it was the voice of the soldier she spoke to the night before - the one guarding Station 8. She whirled around, stuttering for a moment before she spat out, “--You!!”
They stopped in their tracks, but didn’t turn around for a moment. They looked back over their shoulder slowly. “Me?”
“You didn’t get back to me about last night.” Marina said, slipping her communicator off of her belt loop to show that it was still on, set to their channel.
“Oh… Well, it was nothing. No news is good news, right?” They answered vaguely, shrugging their shoulders. Not to mention, they weren’t looking entirely at her, more towards the wall just past her shoulder.
That dismissive answer made Marina’s blood boil, her tentacles straightening out in shock at their tone. She gritted her teeth, her hands balling into fists, which made the soldier take a step back, their eyes darting anywhere but the Lieutenant. “...Sorry, Ma’am…”
Just seeing that reaction, though, Marina crumbled, guilt tugging inside her. “...It’s fine. But I don’t want you stationed on guard tonight.” She said.
Now, that suddenly made the soldier focus, their gaze locking in on their superior for the first time in this conversation. “What? But I-”
Marina narrowed her eyes. “You don’t seem well.” She observed.
“I am... Well! I’m alright, Ma’am!” They insisted frantically.
“That’s an order .” Marina stated, swallowing down her irritation. “Hand over your ink tank and Octo Shot, now.”
Anger flared in their eyes, their mouth opening and closing as they struggled to form a protest. But after a moment, their shoulders slumped, and they dipped their head, their gaze falling to the floor. “Yes, Ma’am.” They said flatly, slipping their ink tank off from their shoulders, and passing it and their Octo Shot over to their superior.
“Thank you.” Marina said, her tone softening and her eyebrows furrowing with concern, “Please get some rest. You look pale.” She said.
“Yeah…” The soldier said, their gaze on the ground, before they pushed past her, leaving her behind.
She watched them leave, feeling even more of a sense of foreboding. But, she swallowed it down and found a new soldier to rotate over into the empty station.
She once again oversaw the production in the Mechanic Bay, inspecting the work the mechanics had done. She felt relieved seeing that her blueprints were being followed to a T. She loved working with her fellow engineers, perhaps the most out of all of her duties in the army. She could always count on them to understand what she was envisioning.
Being there made her feel nostalgic for her days as an Elite Soldier herself, fully focused on her specialties. She would lose herself in building one of their many machines, completely engrossed as the gentle tones of piano notes soothed her ears. It was crude recordings she made herself, through a tinny tape recorder, but to her, it felt special. She could still hear the tune, even now. Even with the tapes wiped clean.
In a flash, Marina had finished her work there, and she was able to settle into her office. She watched the sonar maps even closer, intent on spotting any activity. Maybe this time, the sonar would record it better. The technology was old and fraught with errors, and now it was making her paranoid. Maybe working on improving that would be her next project.
The movement on the map was the usual - all of the stationed guards were accounted for with their octo-shaped icons, jittering with their movements over time. She made sure the screen stayed updated with a press of a button, focusing in on each spot on the map carefully. As she refreshed the image once more on the place she spotted the anomaly last time - Station 8, as it was marked on the screen. She practically jumped in her seat once again. That strange shape, like a rectangle, appeared on the screen, and this time lingered. It crept forward slowly on the screen, blinking in and out as the sonar updated gradually. Marina pressed the button to zoom in closer, her hearts pounding in her chest. But as soon as the map zoomed in, the shape was gone.
This time, Marina didn’t want to waste time. Running to the nearest ink rail, she followed the rail system that looped in and out of the base until she found Station 8. Leaping out, she charged through, looking around frantically.
They’re gone .
All of the discarded, broken ink tanks, unused materials and kettle parts, and ancient relics left behind by a society lost to time. Everything that always decorated Station 8. The platform was empty, except for the stop signs that marked the edges and other debris that led up to the Kettle and the soldier that stood guard by it. They gazed off into the distance, as though they had seen a ghost.
Marina’s hand fell onto their shoulder firmly, turning them around to face her. “What happened!?” She demanded, giving them a shake.
They blinked at her, shaking their head in bewilderment. “I… Lieutenant?” They stuttered, their dilated pupils struggling to make sense of their surroundings. It wasn’t until their eyes seemed to adjust that they were able to understand. “Everything’s gone! It- It was here just a second ago!” They gasped.
“Are you alright?” Marina asked, her grip on their shoulders softening.
“I… Think so. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, Ma’am. I just remember this… bright flash… Kind of like… bright ink. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see anything! I was so--! I didn’t want--!” The soldier exclaimed, gripping their head in their hands.
“It- Hey, hey… It’s okay… You’re okay… You’re here.” Marina soothed, alarm spiking in her gut. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Did you see anything? On the radar?” The soldier asked anxiously, fear brimming in their eyes. “It felt like… it was everywhere …” They shuddered.
Marina nodded soberly. “I saw something… But I can handle it. I want you to retire to your quarters.” She ordered.
“...Yes Ma’am, of course Ma’am.” They said, practically crumbling under her touch. “You don’t think it was… What’s been taking our soldiers, was it? I’ve never seen an inkling use ink like this.”
Marina’s jaw set, looking at them with kind eyes. “I will find out. Goodnight, Soldier.” She said, guiding them to the ink rail.
They nodded and gave away into their swim form, slipping into the ink rail. Their eyes remained on Marina for a moment. “Be careful, Ma’am.”
“I will. Thank you.” Marina said, a smile tugging on her lips as they swam feebly off.
Marina took her place at the station, arming herself with her Octo Gal, and she took the time to fill up her tank and grab a tin can nearby, which lit up her tentacles with flames. She had her special ready at any time.
The night passed agonizingly slow, the Lieutenant communicating to the remaining stations to inform them to be on high alert for the Unidentified Threat.
She was exhausted by the time the next guard rotated into Station 8. But she didn’t have enough time to sleep. She needed to start her routine for the next day.
She made it back to her room to catch the usual alarm sound.
"Hey You! You’re here to be the most capable and downright serviceable Octo of all time, right? …” She tuned out the rest of the monologue as she made a beeline to the Intercom Room to make her usual commands, urging all Station guards to remain on high alert and maintain full communication. Then she flopped over on the desk, sighing for a long moment of rest…
…Okay. Back to the routine.
She made her rounds to check on Acht, keeping them company while the medics checked their flatlined vitals.
Commander Octavio shared the latest news with her from the information he picked up from their radio. He was deeply concerned about what Marina had reported to him. According to him, he had heard nothing about any Inkling Activity from any of his scouts.
She made her rounds to the Mechanic Bay, but she didn’t need to focus much. All of the engineers were in just as much of a rush as the rest of the army, under their high alert status. At their production rate, they would be able to test-run it soon. That would take a lot of power, though. It would be better if they had more zapfish. But they couldn’t risk it.
Next, she excused the guard at Station 8.
“I’ll take it from here.” She said.
“Yes, Ma’am. Be careful, Ma’am.”
And there Marina was. She didn’t want to miss a single thing. Admittedly, though, she was struggling to keep up her energy.
That all changed when she felt the ground shaking beneath her feet. The tremor grew stronger, the entire base blurring in her vision as the other Octarians struggled to stay on their feet in the neighboring Stations. Marina, though, kept her feet firmly on the ground, narrowing her eyes and gripping her Octo Gal as she watched her surroundings with a new resolve, even through the tremor’s strength escalating. Through the rumbling, she could hear something. It almost sounded like… a voice. A scream? Or a song.
CRASH!!!
Broken, thick glass rained down over Marina’s head. She inked the ground even more, diving into her swim form to dodge the debris. Was it the Inkling Menace? It had to be. Maybe this was new technology. Maybe the Commander was wrong.
Once the tremor had stopped, she reformed into her Octarian shape, pulling out her communicator. “ALL SOLDIERS, REPORT!” She barked.
As voices sounded off back to her, she inspected the damage, seeing the glass panels cluttering the platform. There was now a jagged hole shattered through the dome ceiling overhead. Marina saw the culprit. An inkling, armed with strange, spiked armor, splayed on the ground. She was covered in cuts, bruises, and dirt. A sharp-looking piece of headgear was laid out not too far from their head.
CLICK! Marina pointed her Octo Gal in the face of the intruder. Incapacitated or not, this invader may be strong enough to shake their entire base. By some miracle, it seemed like the inkling was alive, and conscious after that fall. And despite the inkling’s size, she was impressively built, toned muscles rippling beneath her skin. For a moment, her gaze lingered on her muscles.
Then the inkling stirred and groaned, making Marina’s finger grip the trigger, ready to splat her.
“SURRENDER, INKLING INVADER!” She barked, making sure the inkling made no other movements.
The inkling stilled, wincing in pain, and struggling to keep her eyes open. Somehow, this pathetic sight made Marina falter despite herself. She was at her mercy right now.
Despite that, the inkling’s eyes scanned her without fear, as though trying to make sense of what she was looking at. Then he coughed, his mouth forming into a pained smile. As though Marina herself was a sight for sore eyes.
Struggling for a moment, the inkling’s voice came out in a hoarse yet gentle croak. “Wow… Such a beautiful Angelfish.”