Page 19 of Hunter of the Tide

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.

“Suitup.”

Dracchus grunted questioningly.

“It’s suitup, not suitin.”

“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 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.

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