Chapter Text
Some twenty-odd years ago now, Doc had been aiming for a career in systems engineering. His doctorate was in a relevant field of study, and he’d been well on his way to establishing himself in the industry when his life got swiftly, violently derailed. By the time he’d recovered enough to think about the future again, Doc had decided that he was going into a career studying abnormal wildlife and phenomena—mostly with the goal of eradication in mind.
The cool, salty evening breeze ruffles his fur, and it prickles upright along his spine in a shiver. Overhead, the stars spread out in a gorgeous glittering plume across the sky, brighter and clearer than he’d ever seen them on land. In the dark, still waters surrounding his solo research vessel, a siren swims in looping patterns, chasing small silvery fish.
Funny, how things can change. His official job title with the Lifeforms & Environment Activism Foundation is marine researcher. These days, though, he’s their leading expert on siren biology and behavior, which he absolutely does not have a degree in. To be fair, no one else does either.
The siren’s swimming pattern changes suddenly; he stops, then darts toward the boat. The whole vessel rocks as Martyn grabs the ladder and hauls himself up onto deck with all the grace and poise of a ten-foot-long, wet, legless sea creature attempting to board a drylander ship via ladder. He lands with a wet slap and spits out something alive and wriggling from between his teeth.
“Got one of them for you,” Martyn announces with a grin.
“Ah, thank you,” Doc scoops the dazed fish from the deck, cupping it in his hands and trying not to drop it. It seems generally unharmed, despite Martyn’s sharp teeth. The fish is teardrop-shaped, with a round head and proportionally-massive eyes, barely 10 cm long, and dotted with sparks of faint blue bioluminescence. A lanternfish, he thinks, traveling up near the surface from somewhere deep below.
The tiny gills flare open and shut, open and shut; it struggles in his hands, and Doc is reminded of things he’d rather not think about. He reaches over the side and drops the fish back into the water, where it disappears with a small plop.
“Wow, really?” Martyn scoots over to the edge of the boat, and frowns down at the water before looking back up at Doc, “All that work and you toss it right back. You could’ve eaten that, you know. Or I could’ve. Absolute waste of my time.”
Doc just snorts, “I just wanted to know what they were, man.”
Martyn clicks at him with exaggerated displeasure, and Doc clicks back in response. He reaches over and smooths Martyn’s wet hair back from his face—Martyn retaliates by shaking his head, splattering water everywhere like a wet dog. Perhaps Doc had his hopes a little too high, thinking he'd stay dry today.