Chapter Text
“Told you this was the best view in the domes.” Two octolings sat atop one of the many defunct industrial centers in the Octarian domes, a remnant from when the Empire was first forced underground. Specifically, they were in Suction-Cup Lookout, legs dangling over the edge of the building as they gazed down at the sprawl of lights that illuminated the buildings below. The screens above them projected an image of the night sky, dark and encompassing. As Iida noticed, one of the screens seemed to be busted, flickering on and off occasionally. Suction-Cup Lookout was on the outer edge of the Empire, and the further you got from Cephalon, the more the surroundings seemed to be in disrepair.
Iida, or 8373, lived in Cephalon. She’d somehow been lucky enough to be able to apprentice under Shogun Octavio, and as it stood now, she was a high-ranking member of the engineering division of the Army. Iida had been assigned to the Octoweapons Restoration project, a secret operation to restore the ancient weapons the Octarians used in the Great Turf War. “It’s quiet up here.” She commented offhandedly.
“Yep. But hey, as soon as you’re done with that prototype, I’m sure we’ll find an even cooler spot.” Iida’s companion said, nudging her playfully with their elbow. The octoling that sat next to her was Mizuta, a ground soldier who’d been Iida’s closest friend for about nine years. On rare nights like this, where Iida wasn’t bogged down with work, Mizuta dragged her around the domes, simply exploring and talking most of the time.
“There’s no guarantee I’ll get it working, you know. The hover tech is tricky.” Iida looked over at Mizuta, who was leaning back, staring off towards the streets below. “But what about you? How’s that song you’re working on going?” Mizuta was one of the most talented musicians Iida knew. They had learned practically every musical genre and subgenre she could think of.
The maroon tentacled octoling looked askance, their expression becoming distant. “More like what I was working on. My parents found out and flipped. They didn’t like that I don’t want to sound exactly like… I don’t know, Turquoise October or something.” They groaned. “So my tape deck’s busted now.”
“What? That’s awful, Mizuta. Do you want me to take a look at your deck? Maybe I could fix it.” Iida offered. Mizuta’s parents were… pretty stifling, to say the least. She knew that Mizuta could be rebellious to some degree, but their parents treated them like they were on the verge of defecting.
“Sure. Honestly, you can just keep the damn thing. I need to find some new stuff anyway. And a new place to hide it.” They rambled, clearly frustrated. “Hm… You wanna hit the junkyard?” They asked, pushing their mid-length tentacle out of their face.
“Okay, but I’ve got to get back to Cephalon soon.” She fixed the kelp that was tied up into her hair, before standing and arching her back in a stretch.
“Aye aye, Commander Iida.” Mizuta responded jokingly, receiving a punch on the shoulder from Iida in return.
“I hate you.” Iida chuckled, shaking her head.
Mizuta ran ahead, moving to the edge of the roof. “Keep up, Iida!” They called, before super jumping down to street level. Iida followed their lead, jumping after them.
~
Thankfully for an already exhausted Iida, the scrapyard was only around 15 minutes away. This junkyard was where most of the Octarian mechanical waste got tossed, which made it perfect for Mizuta because they could smash whatever they wanted, and perfect for Iida, who could take whatever junk she needed. Sometimes things from the surface even found their way down here, despite being contraband. The pair entered through a hole in the rusted fence, left by a pair of wire cutters a long time ago.
“Been a while since we’ve been here, huh?” Mizuta commented offhandedly, folding their arms. They crossed the dirt ground to a pile of junk, picking up a splintery slab of wood and a glass bottle. They set it on top of a plastic crate, squinting and readying to hit it.
“Careful!” Iida hissed, in futility. Mizuta swung into the bottle full-force, launching it across the junkyard, before exploding against a heap of trash. “We’ll be lucky if you don’t wake the whole dorm.” Iida mumbled, starting to rummage through the scrap.
“Chill, no one’s gonna care.” They shrugged, setting up another bottle.
Iida pulled something square-shaped out of the clutter, pleasantly surprised to find a tape, perfect for Mizuta’s deck. “Hey look!” She grinned, holding it up triumphantly, before sliding it into the pocket of her green jacket.
They glanced over their shoulder, giving a thumbs up before striking another bottle. “Now you can record that tune you’ve been bothering me with for the past million years.” They teased, moving to grab a can from the pile. A look of intrigue crossed their face, as they dropped the can and the wood. Mizuta fished a magazine out of the pile, narrowing their eyes as they brushed off the dirt that was caked on it. “Yo, Iida.” They called, prompting their short-tentacled companion to look over at them again
They held a magazine with an inkling on the front, boldly striking an elegant pose. The model wore fashionable, expensive-looking clothes. Iida was surprised, looking around to make sure the two of them weren’t being watched, before heading over to them. “Miz, throw that away! You know the rules on inkling propaganda.”
“Propaganda seems a little harsh. It’s a magazine. Besides, aren’t you even a little interested?” They asked, flipping open the cover page.
Iida bit the inside of her lip, knowing that looking through this was wrong. But for whatever reason, she felt an intense curiosity prodding at her. As Mizuta started to flip through the glossy, partially ripped pages, Iida found herself peeking over their shoulder, fascinated despite being unable to read Inklish. “What do you think Inkopolis is like?” Iida asked, her light pink eyes still focused on the glamorous advertisements contained on the pages.
“And you call me rebellious.” Mizuta chuckled.
“No, not in a rebellious way, just in, like, a hypothetical way.” Iida corrected. “I don’t know, it’s just that these pictures are so… different from what we learned in school.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s a stupid question.”
“Nah, not stupid. I think Inkopolis is probably pretty similar to Cephalon. It’s not like we’ll ever see it anyway. What’s that thing they used to say? ‘Eight, take care…’” Mizuta squinted, trying to recall the phrase.
“‘Eight, take care, twelve beware.’ There were so many sayings like that.” Iida reminisced. “Man… how long has it been since then? Eight years?”
“Nine. And you haven’t changed a bit.” Mizuta teased, before tossing the magazine over their shoulder, into the pile of junk she’d fished it out from.
“Yeah… Anyway, it’s getting late, I should probably-“
“Holy shit!” Came a shout from the tanned octoling, cutting Iida off mid sentence. “Look at this, Iida!” They picked up a large board, with analog buttons and dials on it. Iida recognized it as a double turntable, and a decently sized one at that, very similar to the one Octavio used.
“Woah.” She whispered, moving back to Mizuta’s side. They set it on the ground, allowing Iida to look over it. “Who would throw something like this out?” She ran her fingers over the turntables, fixated on it. “It’s only a little damaged. I could get this thing running pretty quick.” She murmured.
“We gotta find someplace to stash this before someone else takes it.” Mizuta muttered. “Okay, okay. How about I find somewhere to toss this thing, and I’ll meet you outside the palace tomorrow. Bring your tools, I wanna test this thing out.” They planned, pacing back and forth.
“As long as you bring your tape deck. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miz.” Iida stood up again, brushing the dust off her knees. As she left the junkyard, the short-tentacled octoling felt both excitement and dread bubble in her stomach, the cause of which was unclear.
~
Cephalon was much different from the other domes, much cleaner and less populated, along with being the smallest dome in terms of size. It was considered the capital of the Empire, many high-ranking citizens living inside its walls. The thing that Iida disliked the most about Cephalon was the stares she got on the street. She could never really be sure why. Maybe it was because of her rank, maybe it was because she lived with the Shogun. Whatever the reason, Iida never truly felt like she had any kind of privacy in Cephalon.
As she climbed the stairs to the palace, Iida brushed a brown and turquoise tentacle out of her face. She passed by the two Twintacle Octotroopers that stood guard outside the entrance, pulling the heavy wooden door open. The inside of the palace, ironically, wasn’t as palatial as it appeared on the outside. Although large, it was homelike, with a wooden interior and humble furnishings. The Octarians didn’t really have many resources to spare for extravagance. Wood was a rarity, as it had to come from trees on the surface, so having a wooden interior was more of a display of wealth than anything. Some nobles had similar houses to the palace, just not usually as big. She slipped her boots off at the door, letting out a small yawn. Usually, Octavio greeted Iida when she came in, so she reasoned he was most likely held up in a meeting of some sort.
The Octarian Youth Center where Iida had grown up hadn’t been a kind place. She never knew what happened to her parents, and neither did the Youth Center, so, even at a young age, she had never wanted to ponder the hypotheticals of who they were or what happened. There was no point. She lived in that Youth Center all the way up until around three years ago, when Octavio began mentoring her. Iida viewed the opportunity to learn from the Shogun himself the single best chance to work on her passions for engineering and music. And, over the past few years, the two had grown quite close, in a way she couldn’t really describe.
The tall girl made her way down one of the hallways, hearing voices coming from one of the meeting rooms on the floor above, where Octavio often held conferences with his delegates. Actually, it sounded less like Octarian and more like Salmonid coming from the room above. She strained her ears to maybe pick up some of the conversation, not out of suspicion, but out of a natural curiosity. Regardless, she couldn’t make out anything from the discussion.
Iida pushed open the door to her room, the light from the hallway illuminating the interior. Her twin-size bed was pushed against the furthest wall, a window above it. Her sheets were a mess, as she didn’t usually have the time or energy to keep it tidy in here. Her workstation took up the bulk of the right side of the room, blueprints, metal, tools, and unfinished projects scattered on top of it. She crossed the room to her workbench, placing the tape she’d salvaged from the scrapyard into the clutter. Her eyes landed on a small, tube-like object she’d made. Despite being exhausted, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Iida pressed the small button in the middle of the device, causing both ends to extend around three feet on each side. She hadn’t submitted this design for reproduction, mostly because she’d made it for herself. It was a bo staff, a prototype weapon Iida had first produced in order to take a crack at weapon engineering. She spun it a few times, before hearing the door upstairs open, and Salmonid talking flooded out into the hallway. Since every Octarian was mandated to learn basic Salmonid in their elementary training program, Iida could decipher some of their words.
“...off the table.” Spoke a voice that was clearly Salmonid. Iida could hear three or four Salmon upstairs. She moved closer to the doorway, gazing out with a curious interest.
“Fine. Our first agreement still stands?” That was Octavio, his voice much deeper, with a thick Octarian accent that didn’t produce the sharp Salmonid syllables in the same way.
“Yes.” As the conversation continued, Iida took a step away from the door, as she heard them coming down the stairs. She stopped listening in, not wanting to look like she was eavesdropping, even though she had been. She retracted the bo staff, setting it back down on the workbench.
A curved board-like device sat against the opposite wall, composed of mostly scrap. Iida moved to it, running her hand over the top of the board. She pulled it off the wall, looking at the two bulky motor-like attachments on the bottom of the device. Her internal musings were interrupted by a figure standing in her doorway. Iida glanced up, noticing Octavio, his eyes tired.
“Don’t stay up tinkering. It’s late.” He said, clearly exhausted himself.
“Alright.” She let out a small sigh. “I can always work tomorrow.” Iida said with a chuckle.
“Right. Good night.” He said with a quiet yawn, turning to head to his room. Iida shut the door with a squeak, crossing the dark room to her bed. She sat, her face turned to the window. She rested her arms on the windowsill, her skin pressed against the cold glass. She let out a sigh, her breath fogging up the window. It was quiet outside, digital stars reflecting the golden light that emanated from the street.
Her mind drifted back to her meeting with Mizuta, and she felt a nervousness plant itself in her mind, for a reason she couldn’t be sure of. She had no reason to be nervous around them, the two of them had been friends for years. So why was she feeling anxious?
She hoped she’d figure it out by tomorrow.