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Marina Ida, the elite octarian soldier, was dying.
How could she have forgotten the rations? But she had. She ate just before leaving, but it had been a longer walk to this village than she had expected. Had it been a few days? A month? Her memory was as hazy as her eyesight. She had set up camp the first night, only for her tent to rip to uselessness when trying to repack it the next morning; afterward, she had trudged on until she could not, then found a sheltered place to rest - and then any place. She could still taste the dirt from her last nap, and faceplanting like that had messed up her goggles so she had moved them off her eyes onto her forehead. But now salvation was at hand, just a little further ahead. With her vision nearly useless, she staggered forward in the general direction her nose told her food was in, each step slightly harder than the last.
She willed herself to march on. Even if she had betrayed the trust of everyone she had ever known, even if she had no doubt brought shame on all her instructors and everything she once stood for, her pride would not allow her to perish so easily. This was the fight she had chosen. She would see it through.
If her failing body would permit her to. Her hands clutched at her stomach to try to ease the pain. She took deep breaths as she willed herself forward, one step after another, keeping up the momentum until her legs gave out and she keeled over. She reached forward, hand brushing something that felt like a door, and pushed with what little might she had left.
Jabbering came from the room, gentle questioning erupting into shouting. She felt herself being hauled inside. Unable to resist, she tried focusing on what little she knew of the Inkling language but it was no use: the agony in her middle was too much. Her vision was fading when she felt something hard and smooth pressed to her lips - a cup, she guessed - and then sweet liquid touched her tongue. She mustered the strength for one gulp, then another.
Her pain quickly lessened. Her mental fog and blurriness of sight took a minute longer to begin to fade, though the returning light was bright enough that she squeezed her eyes shut by instinct. More of what she guessed was nectar was offered to her lips, until she coughed and was able to raise her right hand to protest.
More chatter she could not understand, then two sticks were pressed into her hand. Opening her eyes just a bit, she recognized a set of chopsticks, and a plateful of steaming rice in front of her. She pushed herself up to a seated position in front of what looked like the edge of a table the plate was on, leaned on her left hand for balance, and after getting the chopsticks to stay together instead of sliding over each other in her unsteady hand, shoved them under some rice to try to scoop it up. It took her three attempts to get even a few grains to her mouth, but those few grains tasted like heaven. Down her gullet they went, followed by a few more, then a proper clump. Taking a breath to focus, she then spread her chopsticks and got to properly gripping the rice with them, chowing down as fast as her slowly recovering physique would allow.
Once she had cleaned her plate, she set down her chopsticks and bowed slightly, hoping the gesture of appreciation was recognized. Something gently grabbed her under her right arm and pulled up. She tried standing up only to find her legs still rubbery; fortunately, whoever was guiding her - a quick glance to her side spied a blue jellyfish wearing a black coat and grey flat cap - was in position to lean on. She limped along, to a corner of the room then down a short hall, through a doorway into a sparsely-decorated bedroom. Needing no prompting, she lurched for the bed, opened her mouth slightly to control her breathing so that falling over would hurt a little less, and flopped down face first. She had willed herself numb to the pain of hitting the ground, but the lack of fresh dirt in her mouth reminded her this bed was not hard soil so she did not need to take precautions, which was as far as she got before blacking out.
In her dreams, she remembered the great battle. Concert? Whatever those inklings had done.
How their music had touched her soul.
How she had almost not even noticed the defeat and capture of their grand leader, DJ Octavio.
She was one of many elite soldiers on hand. Surely they should have rushed the stage. They should have overwhelmed those upstart inklings who dared...
But none of them made a move. These inklings were not the enemy. Logically they should have been, but the music...Octavio had lied to them.
They watched the inklings leave, Octavio in tow, with the Great Zapfish that had been the last hope to save Octo Valley.
So what now?
It was a dream, so she imagined what her fellow soldiers felt. She visualized their souls.
She beheld a broken mess, viewing stands full of shards. Not a single soldier was whole.
Over there were a pair of scouts she knew, who she heard had helped steal the Great Zapfish. Valerie, who had spoken of someday travelling around the world, was gearing up to do just that. Her partner Lilah, always fretting about backup plans because she cared about other octarians, would no doubt step up plans to encourage people to move to Octo Canyon now that Octo Valley was doomed. The legendary pair might never see each other again, all because of that song.
And Marina? Turning her remote perspective upon herself, Marina spied Marina struggling free of Marina with Marina's help.
She had come to peace with the fact that she was kind of three people: a creative, brilliant soul under an obedient mask, and a truth-seeking analyst under both of them. Her inner engineer had no time for other people or social niceties, but just wanted to play with the world, making machines and helping them achieve spectacular results. Her outer soldier was about interactions with people, raised on a diet of duty and obligation, proud of all she had done for the society that created her and wanting to pay it back ever more. Her subconscious advisor just rode along with it all, pointing out things the other two missed. Soldier mask channeled engineer soul as to the particular lessons to study, the particular machines to build and how to use them, the friendships to nourish and how to talk to lesser octarians, who were basically everyone she met other than fellow octolings. Engineer soul let soldier mask guide her life, give her purpose and meaning, and pushed the mask to excellence. She had earned the title of "elite" and vowed to keep earning it.
Now, the music had shattered her mask, leaving her soul in charge for the first time that she could remember. Octarian society, which she had been a loyal member of just minutes prior, now repulsed her. Her subconscious had long since recognized how all the rules she had simply obeyed were in fact there to maintain control and keep up the lie that inklings were the enemy: the octarians could oppose anyone they wanted to, but that by itself did not mean those others hated, cared about, or even knew of the octarians. Her mask had shushed her subconscious every time the latter tried to point it out. Now, with no censor, subconscious spilled all to soul who instantly became disgusted by it.
What was left of Marina knew she had to leave. Where would she go? There were maps of nearby civilization. One of the nearest inkling outposts was a village at the base of a mountain. She could head there.
As a member of Octavio's wasabi supply unit, she had been granted a hover drone: a six-sided floating metal box with retractable tentacles, designed to carry things and follow its user. She had customized one of its faces with a miniature respawn point, while a second face sported ink regulation machinery and small maintenance access panels, but the other four sides retained their tentacles. Her drone would carry supplies for the journey: a bit of gear, and as much wasabi as she could pack on it. Inkling society ran on money, and surely they would pay well for these munitions. Some of her fellow octarians might see taking this much and going absent without leave as stealing, which it kind of was, so Marina knew she had to act fast, taking no time to say goodbye.
So she ate quickly, packed, dodged security to make her way out, and began walking.
And walking.
And walking.
Along the journey, her soldier mask began to recrystallize. There was nothing to do save to march on. Why was she walking? She had a mission: reach the inking village, and then...she would figure it out. For now, she had to reach her destination. So she walked.
And rested, and walked.
And rested, and walked.
As hunger set in, she realized a new master: survival. Whatever she was going to do, she had to live long enough to do it. To go back meant death, or at least jail. The only way to live free was to reach the village. Which meant more walking.
And fainting, waking up, getting back up, and walking.
And fainting, waking up, getting back up, and walking.
Was there truly nothing to eat on the way? Could she have foraged? She had not recognized any fruit trees, and had passed no vending machines or restaurants. Marina was reflecting on how little she knew of how inklings made their food when she heard someone moving next to her so she needed to wake up right now-
Marina rolled off the bed, crouched behind it to use it as cover, and looked around, half-expecting to find herself surrounded by octarians sent to take her back.
Her only company was the jellyfish from earlier at the door to her bedroom with a small cart in the hallway, and her drone nonchalantly hovering in an empty corner of the room like a wasabi balloon trying to be unobtrusive.
Sleep had let her digest, and though she still felt hungry, she was much better able to focus now. Thus, she was able to parse out the jellyfish's words with a bit of effort. He was making some quip about her being alive.
Marina nodded. "Am alive. Thanking...you?"
The jellyfish stepped into the room. "That is good to hear, and you are welcome. Pardon me for asking, but you seem afraid. Are you...running away from someone?"
Still crouching behind the bed, Marina took a moment to translate all of that, then nodded.
"Someone who looks like you?" the jellyfish guessed.
Marina's eyes widened. She ducked lower.
The jellyfish rippled. Was that a laugh? "You are safe. There's no one with nearly your distinctive style in this village. Wherever you hail from, it must be quite a ways away."
If the octarians had followed her here, there would be no need to lie; the jellyfish could have just shown the octarians to her while she slept. Relaxing at the reassurance, Marina stood up and nodded.
"Then I bid you welcome to Mount Nantai, traveler." The jellyfish bowed. "My name is Jelin, and I run this humble establishment."
While Marina was uncertain how to discern sex or gender among jellyfishes, between a masculine voice and the name, Marina suspected that Jelin was male. She bowed back. "Marina Ida."
"Marina. There are a couple matters to discuss. Most urgently..." Jelin pointed a tentacle toward the drone. "I know weapons-grade wasabi when I see it, and so do some of my guests. A young lady by herself has no good business carrying such things in quantity. Unless, and this is just a guess, that has something to do with why you were so desperate to travel so far from home. Am I right so far?"
Marina stepped around the bed and nodded again. "The wasabi is hot."
"Well of course it's stolen," Jelin replied. "The question is why, and what you plan to do with it."
It took her a moment to remember that "hot" could mean stolen as well as intense. "Err...sell?"
Jelin stared, and for a moment Marina feared he had taken offense. "That did not sound very committal. If I may guess further, your priority was to get away with it, to remove it from where it would be used to do harm, and disposing of it was an afterthought." Crossing his tentacles, he seemed to consider for a moment. "I...suppose I could help you with that. One million for the lot, and I swear that none of it shall see use in arms."
"Is one million a lot?"
Jelin's further stare worried Marina, but the jellyfish soon relaxed. "You are an innocent, aren't you? It's the best deal you'll get. Show that wasabi in Inkopolis and you'd be arrested."
Marina flinched at the thought. She knew not what inkling jail was like, but she knew quite well what octoling procedures were: splat the offender and trap their sprite in a tiny cage, denying them access to respawn - denying them the ability to have a full body - for the duration of their sentence. Lesser offenders might be allowed to respawn, but theft of weapons...banishing further thought down that path, the octoling reached up to one of the gripper-claws at the end of one of her drone's tentacles and pressed in a specific sequence - long press on the claw then quick tap on claw, arm, claw, and arm - to signal the drone to gently set down its cargo. The back of her mind had set the sequence to music to help remember it, which she found herself humming as she keyed it in.
As the drone began unburdening itself, she saw Jelin staring at her further. She wracked her mind trying to figure out what offense she could have given this time, until Jelin commented, "Remind me to have you try our karaoke later." He dragged his cart into the room, up to the room's only furniture other than the bed: a small, plain wooden desk and chair. He picked up two large plates of rice and two cups of what Marina guessed were more of that nectar, transferring them to the desk to clear off the cart, then loaded the cart with some wasabi. "I'll have the money to you tonight." He looked up at the drone, which had finished unloading the wasabi and was moving on to setting down the gear Marina had brought with her: her phone, a few tools, and a charger rifle. Jelin reached for the weapon-
"Not for sale," Marina interrupted.
Jelin glanced at her, then took the rifle from the drone and handed it to her, observing as she immediately cradled it. "The picture becomes clearer," he noted. "You are a hunter? Or warrior?"
Marina nodded as she held the rifle in front of her, sighting down its scope.
"Then our meeting is good fortune for both of us," Jelin continued. "One million for the wasabi, and for saving your life, I ask a small favor. A monster has been showing up in the woods nearby. Please take care of it. This should be a simple task for you."
Marina's eyes lit up. A mission? A mission for a...perhaps "soldier" was not the right word since she was no longer in the octarian army, but whatever she was, she could defend this village. She immediately stood to attention and asked, "Details?"
"Oho! Eager to get going?" Jelin shook his head. "The monster does not appear every night but we expect it tonight, after dark. We have never seen it up close, but it is a tiny, pale shadow that wriggles and writhes up on the mountain. We can hear its screams from here. Only the forest bears witness to its rampage." Sighing, he concluded, "Better the trees than us. Anyway, you have a few hours until sunset, so for now..." He jabbed a tentacle at the plates of rice. "...eat."
In a mood to obey orders, Marina wasted no time devouring one plate of rice, pouring it into her mouth and barely chewing before swallowing.
As she napped while awaiting dusk, Marina dreamed of her three internal selves.
Of her mask: hollow and cracked like a porcelain doll of her that had been smashed and imperfectly glued back together. She was unused to not having a soul within, and so was trying to coax her soul to come back inside.
Of her soul: goopy like a young child who had not yet learned to make a proper body, as she had been when she learned discipline and formed the mask. Having been in charge alone for most of the walk, the soul found that she liked being in control, and refused to meekly slink back inside the mask.
And of her subconscious: shapeshifting into whatever non-Marina form was convenient, currently in the form of her hover drone. She observed and analyzed, as she always did. And then, annoyed, slapped both of her other selves upside their heads. "Stop it, you two. This is who we are now."
The soul and the mask looked at the subconscious as one. "But who's in charge?" they asked in perfect echo.
"Ugh. Am I the only one who's thinking?" The subconscious was notably devoid of tact. If there was one thing the soul and the mask agreed on, it was to let the subconscious take all of Marina's frustrations with the world, driving them deep where that aspect of herself would never escape the confines of her mind. No matter how much she felt it, it was neither productive nor dutiful, and thus had no place in either her soul or her mask. "Both of you, duh! I can't drive us. You can."
"But," the mask and the soul echoed again.
The drone-subconscious extended a tentacle to point at the mask. "We have a mission. We're going to need to go tactical. You were always complaining how they'd never give us combat duty, well, you got your wish now. But!" She swiveled to point the tentacle at the soul. "We are in an unfamiliar land where we barely speak the language. Any time she's not driving, you need to be figuring out how we can survive this. Learn. Study. Do the things you're good at." Drone-subconscious extended another tentacle just to have two arms to fold. "And don't make me come out more than I have to."
The mask saluted. "Right. I'm on duty first, so-" She grabbed for the soul again.
The soul dodged, shoved the mask in the chest to knock her on her rear, and stalked away to sulk.
Drone-subconscious extended a third arm to facepalm with. "Let her go. It's time. Wake up and drive."
Marina had woken with the setting sun, swiftly consumed what remained of the rice, and headed out to begin her duty. The edge of the forest turned out to be merely several paces from the village's edge. One glance reminded her just how far from home she had come.
Vast forests, with actual living trees, were quite different from the artificial environments Marina had spent most of her life in, but somehow it did not seem as foreign as she was anticipating. The dirt was a bit loose, but could hold a patch of ink long enough for her to duck into it and refill, even hide for a short time if necessary. Intellectually she knew the tall pillars with branches and leaves were living things called "trees", but her tactical training just regarded them as structures. Living or not, trees did not move on their own, at least nowhere near on the time scale of combat. Small bugs and slightly larger critters could occasionally be seen, but none cared to get in the way of an octoling who was subconsciously radiating menace, just as she had been trained to do.
Following Jelin's directions, Marina quickly reached a patch with several broken and knocked over trees. Figuring she might have arrived before the monster, she checked her gear quickly. Her tools she had left in her room, likewise her phone which had drained its battery and shut off, now plugged in and recharging. Everything else was with her. Hover drone loyally following her, charger rifle in hand, goggles repaired over the afternoon and tuned for low light vision, and armor and boots that left quite a lot of skin exposed, though fully covering armor never helped much against serious fire anyway. As an elite octoling's battle uniform, it would identify her to anyone who recognized it - which, out here, would be precisely no one save herself. But even without words, her uniform signaled that she was ready for battle.
Inklings, octolings, and anyone else who could separate their sprites from their bodies, she might splat. Anything else, she was free to kill. That is what her training said. Lesser octarians were regarded as disposable creatures, easily replaced by cutting off the end of an octoling's tentacle, which would regrow soon enough. She had been taught that inkling society was mostly jellies, sea urchins, and others who might not have sprites, with an implication that the inkling minority were the ruling elite, but she had long been sure that was just propaganda from her instructors. A mental image of Jelin in her sights came unbidden, causing her to flinch; she told herself it was because Jelin was an ally, though something about that explanation felt incomplete.
Not for the first time, to stave off senses-numbing boredom while on patrol, she took a moment to feel her ink body: what some termed a "false body", a shell made of ink extruded from the core, able to be completely shed in an emergency, controlled like a puppet from the sprite - or "soul", as some called it - inside. Although the sprite could survive the body's destruction, long term problems such as the starvation Marina had just been through often reflected on both sprite and body, or rather on the body as a consequence of the sprite's condition. It took more energy to keep sprite and body running than just sprite, but the survival advantages of having a body were enough that trying to be just a sprite for any substantial length of time was a losing proposition in almost all cases. Marina had been splatted many times during training; one training exercise was to practice respawning as quickly as possible, though getting splatted hurt enough that the practical limit on the exercise was the number of continuous splats one could endure. She never viewed her ink body as "false", though: even if she had shed and regrown it time and again, it was her true self. It had to be: one did not become an elite octoling if one felt any sort of bodily disconnect that held back one's true potential.
One also did not become elite if one allowed oneself to be too distracted. Marina had been in a low stance, but suddenly stood up straight as she heard a voice from up ahead. She strained her ears to listen, trying to determine if it was singing or screaming. Focused on her ears as she was, she missed her eyes seeing the trees shake and snap for just a moment too long. Her mind recognized the pattern as something like a Killer Wail too late to dodge. Marina experienced the all too familiar sensation of her ink body being torn asunder, blob after blob ripped from arms, legs, torso, and head until her sprite instinctively ejected and swam up through the air to safety.
Putting a respawn point on a hover drone was a point of pride to Marina. Inklings, she had been told, only knew how to construct big, immobile respawn points. They were heavily shielded, making them useful for defense of specific locations, but far less capable than a mobile respawn point. Marina had personally programmed her hover drone to react to her being splatted by intercepting her sprite at a safe but short distance from whatever splatted her, helping her respawn that much faster. The respawn point carried a couple spare copies of her gear in compressed ink form, which it put on her as she used its reservoir of ink to quickly regenerate her body, the operating concept being that the hover drone could salvage what was left of her former body to make new spare copies, thereby never leaving her bereft of gear. Having a drone to do the salvage was new, but having spare equipment like this was a truly old trick, dating back to before the Great Turf War according to her history lessons.
So it was that she had reformed and was hanging from her hover drone barely three seconds after being splatted, watching from above as the beam died down. Although she was not above the tree tops, the path of destruction made an obvious pointer to where her quarry lay. Another trick of hers was to change color with each respawn, in a pattern pre-coordinated with her drone: she was now changing from deep green to a mild brown not that different from the trees. With teammates, keeping the same color was paramount in avoiding friendly fire incidents, but on solo missions, she figured that confusing the enemy was a legitimate tactic. After completing the color shift, she let go and dropped to the ground, trained reflexes putting her in a roll to the side just in case the enemy's weapon was still trained on her location. Fortunately, no second beam immediately reached out to her, so she stepped behind a tree and froze, listening closely. The forest had fallen utterly silent, the little creatures having sensibly fled the monster's presence. After a five second count to herself, Marina peeked around the tree, but saw nothing save more trees ahead. She waved a safety hand signal to her hover drone, cluing it in to salvage her former body while she carefully began tiptoeing forward, only for her foot to find and loudly snap a dry branch on the ground.
Wincing, she jumped for a branch above, one arm grabbing it and pulling her up just before the sonic beam lashed out through the space she had just occupied. This attack was brief, but enough to fell the tree she had just climbed into, leaving her barely enough time to swing off the branch and land feet-first on a low branch of a neighboring tree. Tree branches were poles rather than the flat platforms she had trained on, but she had otherwise trained on more or less this scenario, and leaped from branch to branch. The sonic beam did not follow her, but she was in no mood to take chances. Before long she had neared the top of the canopy, as high up as the branches would support her weight, and bounded from treetop to treetop in a manner she had once been assured would make any small animal - with mobility limited by their bones - jealous.
Soon she saw her prey, just as it had been described to her: a tiny, pale shadow wriggling and writhing. For a moment she found it hard to believe that such a small thing could cause such great destruction, but then dismissed such thoughts. She had a job to do. Even with her goggles, it was difficult to make out details at this distance, but to get any closer would be to risk getting spotted. Kneeling to brace, she peered through her charger's scope and aimed carefully as her ears registered the quiet whine of her weapon charging, then squeezed the trigger once. Through the scope she got an impression of a face before another sonic beam ripped her to shreds.
The hover drone was a little further back this time, having been catching up after finishing its salvage. After respawning again, she waved it down to ground level and off to the side as she changed to her third color set: dark plum brown with light teal accents, the beginnings of camouflage to confuse whoever had splatted her twice. Color number four was further camouflage, after which she might try seeing what color the enemy was and copying them. Using the opponents' color to sneak through their lines was thoroughly dishonorable, her instructors had said, but in her opinion survival and victory took precedence on solo missions. Honor was for time spent in the eyes of anyone who mattered.
On the topic of those who might see her, had that face been an inkling girl's? She seemed mad, but Marina supposed that was understandable if the monster was eating her. Marina dashed forward, keeping slightly off-angle to where she had been splatted on the hopes the monster would still be fixated on that spot. Soon she came to a small clearing, in which stood a single small inkling, perhaps a child, wearing a tiny crown and a shiny dress, cream with pink accents, frowning at a medium brown blotch on her chest.
Marina's haste had predictably come at the cost of stealth, as the inkling noticed her almost as soon as Marina saw her clearly. "Hey," she yelled, "did you just shoot - wait, no, you're the wrong color. Wanna help me splat Team Tree-Colored out there?"
Even with her limited vocabulary, Marina was relieved to find she had no trouble understanding these words - but when she tried to reply, she once more found herself having to think through what to say. She shook her head to give her a second's more cover to phrase her response, then replied, "Monster around. Am here to protect you."
The inkling tilted her head. "Huuuh? So...no, but yes?"
Marina stepped forward and picked up the inkling in a princess carry. "Being too dangerous." Once the inkling was secure in her arms, she began running for the village.
Pearl squirmed a bit, but her protest died in her throat. She had been out here to be away from everyone. If there was someone - a "monster", according to this sucker-tentacled inkling who had appeared out of nowhere - close enough to shoot her, this was not where she wanted to be just then anyway.
After a minute of being carried, Pearl finally spoke up. "Thank you. If you're heading to the village, I can jump from here. I left a beakon back there."
"Need making sure you safe," the stranger replied.
"You can jump with me," Pearl offered.
The stranger gave her a quizzical look.
"You're from out in the country," Pearl noted. "Your accent gives it away. Don't worry, around here using friends as beakons is okay."
The stranger blinked.
"Hey, you got me away from that monster. That's good enough for me. Name's Pearl."
"Marina," the stranger replied.
"Pleased to meet you." Pearl smiled and took one of Marina's hands in her own, shaking it briefly. "Now, don't let go until we reach the village." She shrank to squid form, dropped through Marina's arms to the ground, and-
Marina had never Super Jumped before, despite having read about it. On the day of practice, she had been out of class on a mission. Afterward it simply never came up.
It was partly by luck that she remembered her instructors once mentioning that, if you see a teammate transform for no apparent reason, it might be a good idea to change forms and then find out what is going on. So it was that she was in octoling form just in time for Pearl, still hooked on by a tentacle, to send the two of them skyward.
Outside of a vehicle, this was by far the fastest she had ever moved. The speed rivaled many vehicles, even. She had been this far from the ground before, but always on a platform or something, not with several meters of nothing but air beneath her. Even the starry sky seemed a bit closer.
And then, in what felt like the span of time between two heartbeats though she was not certain her heart had not skipped a beat, they were on the ground, in the village. Pearl transformed back. Marina, mind still processing, did not, winding up in Pearl's cupped hands.
"Umm. You can change back now," Pearl advised.
Marina compiled, winding up princess-carried by Pearl. Marina's arms clung to Pearl for dear life, as Marina became conscious that her eyes were open wide.
Pearl staggered under Marina's bulk, ultimately letting go and dropping Marina to the ground. "Oof. You're a bit big. Why..." Pearl blinked. "Don't tell me that was your first time?!?"
Marina took in one carefully measured breath, then another, to drown out her adrenaline and nodded up at Pearl.
Pearl smiled down at Marina and held out a hand. "Then it was my honor."
In Marina's eyes, the stars in the sky above and behind Pearl seemed to twinkle just so. Slowly, shakily, Marina took Pearl's hand and stood up.
Pearl's eyes wandered over Marina with obvious concern. "Are you alright?"
Marina gulped. "Just...need...catch breath. Y-you...?"
Pearl nodded. "I'm fine! Thanks for the save." She patted Marina's arm, over which one of Marina's longer head tentacles lay. Looking over it, Pearl commented, "And hey, nice style."
The octoling's immediate instinct was to hide her tentacles - but no, Pearl had already seen them. Marina's only choice was to go along with the complement. "You thinking so?"
Nodding again, Pearl replied, "Yeah. Ink colors aren't special until you mix them together to create new colors." She traced the tentacle to the point where it shifted from brown to teal. "Like you're doing. Anyway, I'm gonna head home now." She let Marina's tentacle go, turned around, and began walking away.
Marina debated going after her, but before she could move, Jelin slid into her view and queried, "Are you alright?"
"Unhurt," Marina managed, her heart finally decelerating to a normal pace.
"Good, good," Jelin replied. "Let's get you inside, shall we? I have dinner ready."
The common room of the inn was somewhat more decorated than Marina's room, but that was like saying a short stone bridge was somewhat more elaborate than a plain boulder. The front desk was little more than a large enclosed booth, with room keys and filing cabinets in the rear, too far to reach without entering the enclosure. A kitchenette occupied another corner of the room, with a locked refrigerator and storage bin, then another bin next to it labelled, "SNACKS - FREE FOR GUESTS". The snack cabinet was almost bare save for a few wrappers with wording she was mostly unable to decipher and pictures of what seemed to be dense-pastry-coated bars. Rounding out the features were a currently-unused fireplace, a front door, a rear door, two hallways leading to the rooms, and a pair of tables, each surrounded by six cushions that one could sit or kneel on. Currently Marina and Jelin were the only occupants of the room, Jelin seated at the head of one table with Marina next to him, a cup of tea in front of each of them and a platter of sushi in front of Marina.
Marina did not try to pretend she was not hungry. Chopsticks in hand, she consumed at what she hoped was not an excessive pace.
Jelin watched her eat. "We heard your battle from here. It stopped just before you arrived with that inkling. Did you kill the monster?"
Marina paused, swallowing, mentally focusing to form her words. "No. Monster...getting away? Saaa...saving people, that being more important, yes?"
Jelin gave a brief salute. "A noble sentiment, and quite correct. You have earned your keep this night. Please do keep up your patrols on future nights, octoling."
Marina nodded, positioned her chopsticks around another piece of sushi, then froze. A chill running through her ink, she turned to look at Jelin.
"It took some research, but I now know what you are. Do not fear. I know you mean us no harm, and I will not tell anyone," Jelin reassured her. "Your ears gave away that you're no inkling, but I don't think anyone else has noticed yet."
Marina slumped, tension she had not felt building up leaving her all at once.
Jelin patted her on a shoulder. "I'm afraid I don't know if you need any sort of special diet, but if you do, my means are limited. Still, I have some basic medical training. If it is okay, I would like to give you an examination tomorrow, to check for allergic reactions."
Sitting back up, Marina again regarded Jelin, but was unable to find any sign of deceit in his body language. Then again, she recalled, the octarian training manuals did note that jellyfish were hard to read even for inklings. "You...medically examining..." She gestured to herself. "Is fine."
"Excellent." Jelin sipped his tea slowly and silently. Marina was fairly certain he was contemplating something. "You know, it's strange. I've seen that girl before, but only on nights with monster sightings. Do you think she knows something about it?"
Now it was Marina's turn to imbibe thoughtfully, so she took a couple sips of tea. "She returning?"
Jelin nodded. "Oh yes. Not every night, but wait around long enough and you'll run into her again, I'm sure."
Pearl's face.
Pearl's gentle, confident smile, in the moonlight.
Pearl's hand, reaching for her.
And tossing her way high up into the sky.
Marina woke in a cold shiver, gasping. A nightmare. It had been nothing more than a nightmare, she reassured herself-
The shadows. Sunlight should be coming in from the east, but the shadows were entirely wrong for morning. She grabbed her phone off the desk, and frowned when it reported the time as noon. It also reported 99+ unread messages, apparently having connected to the octarian servers from this far away. At least she had remembered to disable location tracking.
She stumbled to the door and opened it just as Jelin was starting a knocking motion.
Jelin managed to stay his tentacle before he could knock on his guest. "You missed breakfast." Behind him was a cart with a stethoscope, a syringe, and various other medical instruments.
"Waking up now," Marina retorted. "Examine on empty stomach?"
Jelin shrugged. "It's as good a time as any." He ambled in, towing his cart behind him, followed by Marina's hover drone. "Oh, your pet showed up after you went to bed. It's been waiting outside for you all night and all morning."
Marina removed the power cord from her phone and hooked it up to the drone, then half-stumbled to the desk chair, pulled it out and sat down. "Exam being not..." She closed her eyes. "Gy...ne...cologal?"
"Gynecological," Jelin corrected, "and no, this isn't that sort of exam. Just some basic vitals and ink sample." Donning the stethoscope, he applied it to Marina's chest and gave a listen, then took her pulse. "The other guests were talking about you. They appreciate that you saved that girl and chased away the monster. They're putting their trust in you to finish the job."
After a few minutes of this, Marina asked, "Do you knowing anything else about that inkling?"
Jelin shook his head. "Not much. I believe she likes to sing? She doesn't live around here. Maybe her family doesn't approve so she sneaks out here to practice. Why?"
"Was dreaming of her," Marina admitted.
"It must have been some dream." Jelin snapped a clip on the tip of Marina's right little finger, a specially designed tool to extract just a bit of ink from inklings without leaving a breach in their skin. Fortunately, the tool proved to work exactly the same on an octoling. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to eat in your room, so I brought lunch." He pulled a bag from the tray and set it on the desk. "The allergen tests will take a few days, but other than elevated stress levels you seem to be recovering well. Just in case, you might want to take it easy today. Oh, also, I noticed your phone trying to connect to our network, so I gave it guest access." He bowed and dragged his cart out.
Marina set a reminder for dusk - for some reason, part of her mind thought it was especially important to know when to switch from studying to soldiering - then called up her phone's browser. There were a few things she wanted to get done this day, but a little searching first could not hurt.
When the dusk alert came, Marina was lying on her front in bed, back legs bent up and idly twiddling, a broad smile on her face as she scrolled through picture after picture of Pearl Houzuki. Super-rich, a heavy metal singer, had apparently participated in enough Turf Wars to have feelings she put in a song too raw for the radio stations. Marina had not found an address or contact information, but had not yet tried. Waiting to experience Pearl again would be fine.
Yes. This was a person that Marina wanted to get to know. Sighing in slight disappointment that it was time for her rounds, she checked her gear and headed out. She wondered if she might run into Pearl, and made sure her ink color was the exact same gradient as before so Pearl might recognize her.
Happy thoughts whirled in her head for hours, but contrary to her hopes, she encountered nothing more notable than a particularly territorial owl. Time and again she tried focusing on her patrol, but settled for wandering for a while to make sure there was no sign of the monster this night. She shrugged off her lack of focus as no harm done: no monster, no shooting, she was just walking around so she could let her thoughts wander. Why did it feel like she was sticking her tongue at herself like an immature child when she came to that conclusion? She ignored it and tried thinking of something more useful.
What had Jelin called this mountain? Ninty? Nantai? She recognized it as some old human name. The name was not so important. What was important? He said there were inklings here who had placed their trust in Marina to protect them.
Inklings. Trusting Marina. She imagined what Acht would have said if Marina had predicted this would, could, ever happen. Halfway through rolling her eyes, she stopped and sighed, wondering if Acht had made it out okay. Marina considered taking a moment to go through her phone's messages and see if any were from Acht - no. If any were, and Acht disapproved...no. She had trouble enough keeping her resolve to stay her course. She did not need to crack her mental shield on that topic and invite in despair. She thumbed her phone and dismissed the notification. Maybe some day she would have the courage to read them, or at least delete them.
When she eventually returned to her room, dinner had been left at her door: teriyaki, long since cooled to room temperature.
The dream again. Once again, Pearl threw Marina high into the sky. This time Marina knew it was a dream and could relax into it, right up until Pearl yanked on a tether and slammed Marina back into the ground. Marina tried to get up but could not move her limbs, until she felt tethers on her wrists and ankles - gossamer-thin, explaining why she had not previously seen them, though part of her mind insisted they had not been there before - pulling her off the ground. As she was spun in mid-air, a super-sized Pearl came into view, or perhaps Marina had been shrunk to the size of a puppet.
Marina tried to voice, "Why?" She was uncertain if the word actually escaped her throat or, being a dream, actually asking the question was irrelevant and omitted.
Either way, Pearl replied in a mocking tone, "Hello, idiot! Did you not notice that Pearl is rich? That means she's one of the inkling aristocracy. She is one of the greedy evil inkling leaders you've been warned about, all your life until you threw it away!"
Was that her subconscious, with that cruel tongue? Marina tried to repeat her question, and was again unsure if she actually spoke.
Again came Pearl's reply in what Marina's heart insisted was a twisted spin on the real Pearl's voice. "Because she's always wanted her own pet octoling. And it's working. You don't even know how this mind control tech works, but do you honestly think you could fall for anyone, especially an inkling, that fast? If you're that eager to become a slave, then just be mine again." And then Pearl was a cruel-faced porcelain Marina doll, who leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. Something clammy began spreading where the doll made contact, like a headband.
Marina was distantly aware of the sound of her own scream.
As consciousness faded in, she became more aware of a few things. First, the ice-cold towel on her forehead, courtesy of the hover drone she had configured, upon realizing how late she had returned last night, to wake her up if she slept past noon again. Second, Jelin at the door, vibrating in what looked like nervousness though she still had a hard time reading him. Third, her throat feeling raw.
"Another dream?" Jelin inquired.
Marina mutely nodded, more to spare her voice than for lack of words.
"Maybe this girl is someone you should not meet again," the jellyfish opined.
Marina tried to nod again, but found herself unable to will herself to do so.
Her head was clearer that afternoon. She almost felt like her old self again, as if that inkling music had never happened. Marina set herself to doing those tasks she had procrastinated on the other day: more study and practice of the Inkling language, and research on basic civics and expectations of inkling society. Half an hour before dusk, she forced herself to go out into the common room to practice her Inkling. As she had expected, the guests were a mix of inklings and other species.
"Hey hey hey, it'sh da monster hunter!" one inkling sitting at a table exclaimed. Waving at an empty seat next to him, he added, "Yo! Over here!"
Marina accepted the invitation, sitting with precise movements.
"So where'z ya from? Shplatshville?"
Marina shook her head. "Far away."
The inkling was perhaps just past 20 years old and moved with an uncoordinated lack of grace. Marina was pretty sure she could take him. His breath stank from the foul, clear liquid he was imbibing; Marina made a note to not have what he was having. His black leather bodysuit seemed to be struggling to hold in a bit of a gut. "Farther away, huh? Shwe talking halfway around the world or something?"
This was a mistake. She stood up and looked around the room, ignoring the inkling's slurred protests. A stage with a microphone, a keyboard with headphones slung over it, and a strange jukebox-like machine had been set up in front of the fireplace, so she investigated. The machine had a list of pictures of inklings in stylish poses, perhaps local bands-
Marina double-took at one picture. It was them: two of the inkling invaders of Octo Valley, one black haired dressed in black with purple highlights, the other light gray haired dressed in black with green highlights. Glancing at the picture's caption, she memorized their name: Squid Sisters. Maybe tapping their picture would bring up more information?
Doing so only brought up a list of names, apparently song titles. Ink Me Up was selected by default, playing a soft version of the song. Marina listened enough to confirm it was their voices before tapping City of Color. This was definitely them, but whatever they had sung was apparently unlike their usual fare. It probably was not even on this list. Eyes flicking over the names, Marina spied the most unusual one, Calamari Inkantation, and selected it to confirm her suspicion-
Memories of Octo Valley's concert-battle instantly flooded her, as the karaoke machine worked through its 15 second sample. One that countdown completed with no further input, it cued up and played the song. On autopilot, Marina sung along, the lyrics etched in her soul. She had a faint impression of a doll-like version of herself staring at her in horror as something like a headband shattered, but ignored it.
The room fell silent as she sang, then burst out in applause. Marina came back to her senses just in time to note the karaoke machine flashing "100%".
The inkling from earlier stepped forward. He seemed slightly steadier. Had the Inkantation sobered him up? His breath still stank, though. "Heeey, you should go pro with those pipes!"
Marina assumed that was some sort of compliment. She blushed, brushing aside one of her tentacles.
Her conversant looked over his shoulder. "Jelin, does she win the prize?"
Jelin was weaving through the crowd, ferrying snack dishes and glasses, but looked over for a moment. "That she does."
Marina looked at the inkling, question plain on her face.
In response, he gestured to the keyboard. "Jelin had this out for the first person who could perfect a track. That's you. It ain't much: most of the keys are broken."
She eyed the prize, picking it up to test its weight and further inspect. "Can fix."
"Here, lemme help you get it back to your room." He picked up the other end.
Marina did not stop him, despite being more than up to carrying it herself. About a minute later, she was opening her door to move her new loot inside.
The inkling looked inside her room, taking in the emptiness. "Where're your extra clothes?"
She absently patted her armor.
"Seriously? That's it?" He shook his head. "I make outfits, or I'm trying to but that monster's been scaring away my customers. Tell you what. I'll make you a custom one, for only twenty thousand. Deal?"
Marina shrugged, quickly searching her room and spying the bag of currency on the desk that Jelin had presumably brought in at some point after removing the wasabi. She peered into it, struggling to recognize the digits on the bills and coins before remembering that inkling currency was decimal. There being only one variety of bank note with five digits in the collection, presumably those notes were worth ten thousand each, so she picked up two of them and handed them over. Sure, it meant spending currency she would need to live, but right now it was worth it to get rid of the pest.
The inkling took the money and bowed. "Thank you. It'll take me a couple days. I'll deliver it once it's ready." With that, he left.
Marina closed the door and exhaled. That had not gone to plan, but at least she had a new toy out of it. More importantly, she had names. She was fairly certain that tracking down the Squid Sisters would not be too difficult if they were a popular band, but she was not sure if she wanted to thank them or splat them.
But that was for later. Right now, dusk was approaching, and with it the duty she had accepted. Steeling herself, she headed back to the common room, alerted Jelin that she intended to patrol for two hours, and asked if he could have dinner ready at the end of that time.
Her patrol that evening was drill and practice as much as searching for the monster, which the back of her mind was fairly certain would not show up that night but refused to say why. The forest turned out to be surprisingly durable: full power shots, which should have been enough to splat an inkling, did not snap off branches, but at least she was hitting everything she targeted. The owl showed up again, making a racket as she passed, but she sniped the branch it was on with one shot without looking its way, scaring it off. When she returned to the inn at precisely the minute she had promised, she felt more in control than she had in quite a while.
Again, the dream. Pearl tried to trick her into taking her hand. This time, Marina dodged to the side. Put out, Pearl yanked on the gossamer tethers. Marina yanked back. A little force of will over the dream, and now Pearl was the puppet and Marina the puppetmaster. Marina looked into Pearl's scared eyes, seeing nothing but fear and resignation, and grinned in satisfaction. This is how things were meant to be: Pearl was meant to be hers.
Marina yawned and stretched to greet the waking world, then opened her door. The common room had a few people in it, one of the tables fully occupied by a chatting group, the other with two seats taken by lone guests.
Jelin looked up from the front desk. "Oh, Marina. I was just about to shut down breakfast. Will you be joining us this time?"
Marina took a seat at the mostly empty table, completing the pattern: one empty seat between each seated person. She felt a smile that would not leave her face, and heard it in her own voice. "Those tests done yet?" Giddy as she was, only after the words left her mouth did she remember the topic might spoil her secret - but as the words had left her mouth, she shrugged it off.
Apparently taking her cue, Jelin responded, "The allergen tests came back negative for anything I serve here. Eat as much as you like!"
With wisdom beyond her nearly 17 years of age, Marina knew there were certain things one should not say to a hungry, athletic, growing adolescent. She promptly relieved him of any need to store leftovers from that particular breakfast. A few hours later, she repeated her performance at lunch.
Back in her room, Marina threw herself into her tasks, including tinkering with the keyboard. It was more busted than she had thought; a few hours' tinkering had only restored half the keys to functionality.
The clothier's words from yesterday came to her as she worked. Could she make a living as a singer? She had heard that such things were possible in inkling society. Once she was done working on the keyboard for now, she began placing notes together. She tried on the headphones and found them comfortable, though they did not really fit over her goggles, so she grabbed her headware to remove it-
In her mind, two Marinas confronted each other once more, identically dressed in octoling soldier gear.
Her engineer soul was still slightly unformed, but a bit more practice being in control had left her with a mostly solid body. She was trying to remove her goggles.
Opposing her was what had previously been her soldier mask. Once upon a time she had been solid and whole, an exoskeleton the soul could pour into to find shape and purpose. Now the mask was so heavily cracked, she only held together by sheer force of will. One hand of her hands struggled to push the goggles back into place on the soul's head, while her other was on the soul's throat struggling to crush it but making no progress. With a scowl, the mask growled, "Don't. You. DARE!"
The soul tilted her head, unconcerned about being assaulted. "We don't need them right now."
"They're us. They're our pride. This uniform is who we are!" The mask pushed with all her strength.
The mask was solid, the soul gelatinous. The mask's hands were making an impression in the soul's inky flesh, but that flesh oozed around those impressions with renewed strength. "They were. Now I want to sing. Goggles will not help."
"GRRRAAAGGGH!" Nearly frothing at her mouth, the mask shuddered with rage.
"And don't we need to hide my ears? Isn't switching to headphones good for survival?"
The mask froze, trying to come up with a rebuttal.
"Also?" Looking her foe in the eyes, the soul frowned and let ice into her voice. "I don't think I like you any more."
The mask shrieked in agony as the goggles finally came off.
By dusk, she had come up with a brief score inspired by her drone's unlock sequence, though she had yet to build up the nerve to record a run. A solo singer, she would qualify as a "one inkling band", but she knew she was not alone. Her machines were her friends and partners. She wrote the score to duet with Pearl-
Marina growled softly. Why had that inkling's name come to mind unbidden? Her machines were her partners. She needed no one else.
Shaking her head to clear it, she headed out of the village with no further delay and proceeded to the clearing she had met Pearl in three nights prior, mental gears rifling through possibilities. What if it really was mind control technology? Such things existed, though she had not heard of any in inkling hands. But what if they had their own secret programs? A member of the aristocracy would surely have access: unlike octarian society where the more capable had more access - in theory; Marina knew of but brushed aside the flaws she had witnessed - inkling society was said to award access to those with money. Pearl could be a spoiled child, long practiced in using such a device to get her way, so her victims did not even notice they were being controlled.
The more she considered the theory, the more it made sense. How else could she have experienced such attraction to an inkling so quickly? A child might naturally want to be liked. That moment when Pearl was standing over her, looking so cool, so dreamy - Marina shook her head again to recover her train of thought, trying not to notice the warmth that had seeped into her cheeks. That must have been the moment Pearl used it.
It must have been some item Pearl was wearing. While Marina had not studied the topic in depth, she knew that for best effect, mind control tech was best made into headgear. She had only heard of it applied to a victim, but supposed the same would apply to an effect broadcast from someone wishing to control others. Pearl's crown was rather prominent.
Which meant she needed to take away that crown. It was a small target, but she could snipe it. Grabbing it off her head would work too, and maybe let Marina turn it against Pearl. Tripping Pearl would probably not work: even if it merely looked balanced on Pearl's head, it was probably secured - which, now that she thought of it, might be a problem for sniping it off. Marina would probably only get one chance, if she struck from stealth: once Pearl knew she was going for the crown, she would probably immediately figure out Marina's plan and turn her tech on Marina full blast. Marina might barely get a chance to notice she had failed before she had no more thoughts of her own, ever again.
Gathering up some sticks, Marina built a Pearl-sized effigy, placing a small pebble on its head to represent the crown. For over an hour she trained on sniping from various spots around the clearing, or hiding - double-checking lines of sight by placing her hover drone in a hiding spot and crouching down to observe from Pearl's height - then dashing in to snatch the crown-stone. The rock seemed light in her hand, but for some reason she was not able to budge it much with her shots. Once she was satisfied she had practiced as much as would help that night, she hiked double-time through the woods to perform her patrol, dimly aware of nervous energy building up within her and trying to burn it off.
Her stomach was in knots by the time she got back. Making a brief excuse to Jelin to skip dinner, she headed straight for her room and crashed to bed, curious why her eyesight was getting misty and hot streaks like tear tracks made themselves known to her cheeks but not too curious to fade to sleep.
This time the dream started where last night's had left off. Pearl was her puppet, hanging limply from the tethers. Marina pulled one, making Pearl's arm twitch briefly, only to see it fall back by Pearl's side.
Frowning, Marina stepped up to Pearl, cupping the inkling's chin with a hand and propping her head up. Pearl's eyes were open but blank white, and her body felt cool to the touch. When Marina moved her hand from Pearl's jaw to her forehead, said jaw hung open.
With an ease that she wished she had in the waking world, Marina slid her other hand into Pearl's chest and opened her up, searching for Pearl's sprite, but it was not there. Neither did it prove to be in Pearl's head, nor hands, nor feet. Finally, Marina found the sprite in the small of Pearl's back, curled up. The moment Marina touched it, it began swiftly disintegrating, dust crumbling away before Marina could try to stop it. Once the sprite was gone, Pearl's ink body lingered only a moment longer before collapsing in a puddle.
Off to one side, her subconscious was trying to yell something. Her mask, with motions so long practiced they were now effortless, kept putting duct tape over any opening her subconscious tried to open to speak with. Marina realized she must be dreaming from her soul's perspective. Her mask censoring thoughts was normal and a good thing, right?
...was it?
Marina felt hollow inside, and cold. Abandoning that line of thought for now, she willed herself to wake up but it felt like she was suffocating. Flailing her arms, she scrambled back to consciousness and pulled a cold towel off her mouth.
She blinked in confusion then sat up in bed, her head leaving behind a small pile of cold towels around her pillow. She looked at the pile, glanced at her hover drone chilling another of the inn-provided towels using precise modulation of the ink regulation machinery which turned it into a makeshift refrigerator, and facepalmed. Apparently her hasty programming of the wakeup routine had hit a glitch. Mentally flashing through the program, Marina quickly realized the problem: when it had not needed to wake her up yesterday morning, it had not reset properly, leading to an error state that would be triggered the next morning - in other words, now. Sighing, she reached up to the drone, tapped a panel to open it, and with precise strokes - not even looking inside, familiar with reconfiguring her companion by touch - disabled the routine, closing the panel in the same set of motions. The hover drone dropped the towel and returned to standby mode.
That explained the cold. Her rumbling stomach explained the hollow. Her nose informed her that she had once more woken up in time for breakfast. A slightly faded but still scary memory of extreme hunger prodded her to stand up, head out, and apply solution to problem.
Breakfast tasted bland. The entire world seemed washed out and muted. Marina knew it had to be her own perceptions: even octarian propaganda admitted that inkling society, as a rule, did not do bland. Was it a lingering effect of Pearl's mind control? Had it been making the world seem richer so long as Marina went along with it? Did that give her that much more reason to hate Pearl, and if necessary to destr-
To dest- ...to ki- ...to-
Marina could not bring herself to finish the thought. Anguish racked her whenever she tried.
She had felt fury before. Never this level of pure rage and frustration, but she knew how to deal with it when there was nothing to immediately do about the direct subject: step away, disengage, and come back later. She could deal with Pearl that night.
Her new outfit was waiting for her when she returned from breakfast. Slipping out of her armor and putting it on, she took a moment to flex and stretch. The leathers were certainly more comfortable - but these were not the clothes of a warrior. Something inside her protested that she needed to put the armor back on immediately, to keep being-
She resolved to not be a warrior until dusk. The protest cut off with what felt like a gut punch, but it did cut off.
To her slight embarrassment, she found she had not put her goggles back on the other night. She was still wearing the headphones. Certainly her mood had changed since switching headgear, but who would be able to use her goggles to control her? Still, she had been able to see just fine the previous night without them, and the headphones let in enough sound to hear, so there was no need to put the goggles back on.
EVER.
Marina blinked. Why was her heart so adamant about that?
That day she spent on research into the music industry: how recording contracts worked, typical salaries, what kinds of music sold well, and so on. After lunch, she made sure to take a walk around the village, in case a little more vitamin D would help her deal with her turmoil. Marina even forced herself to spend an hour tinkering with her song from the previous day, crafting it to fit the part of her keyboard that still worked. A background beat, her own voice, and a theremin-like accompaniment kind of like Pearl's voice-
Marina gripped her keyboard hard, trembling as Pearl's face once more came to mind. She shoved that thought aside and relaxed into making music. Her machine was her partner. It did exactly what she told it to. Sure, that meant its style was just a riff on hers. Her music would have no style but her own, insignificant, nowhere near good enough to impress crowds...
She forced herself to dial that thought back. She didn't have to be an overnight idol. She just had to win enough fans. She had been here a few days and no one save Jelin seemed to recognize her as anything other than an exotic inkling. Exotic was good, right? Something for fans to latch onto?
Sighing at the irony of needing a distraction from her distraction, she ran through her song one more time, then another, then finally built up the courage to record a run, pausing afterward at the save prompt. What to name the file? Her emotions had been ebbing and flowing a lot lately...shrugging, she typed "Ebb&FlowDemo.frsh". The title would do for the time being. The important thing was that she now had one demo, recorded and saved. Something, even if a little basic, she could present as proof she could make music.
That accomplished, she checked the time, just in time for the dusk alert to sound. Marina smirked and started to change back into battle gear, then stopped herself. If she did not need the goggles, did she need the uniform?
Something raged and frothed within her that she did: it was her symbol, what she was. Something else, a voice of growing strength, saw no one around to impress.
She did not have time for a lengthy debate. It was time to deal with Pearl. Changing out of her leathers, she put the armor and boots back on - but the headphones stayed on, the goggles stayed off, her inner voices compromised - then headed out for a date with an effigy.
As she walked, she tried to focus her emotions about Pearl. What came through loudest was anger. At first it was a small stream of tranquil fury: familiar, almost soothing. It built with every step. Before Marina reached the practice dummy, she was trembling and having trouble walking straight. She thought to herself that a few shots would blow off some steam-
"Hoo."
Marina stumbled to a stop. Was someone else present? She slowly creeped forward.
"Hoooo."
It was just that owl, perched atop the Pearl-representing construct, right where the stone-crown had been. Her grip tightened on her charger.
"Hoo."
A low growl sounded. Marina paid it no mind, especially once she noticed it was just coming from within her. That owl. Dared.
"Hoo."
Marina brought up her weapon, started the charge, and sighted right between the bird's eyes, taking in deep breaths to try to counter her shaking.
"Hoo."
At this range, at full power, that owl would not be coming back. One shot and it would be a mess of blood and feathers. Owls had no sprite to survive bodily destruction. All for defiling...
"Hoooo."
Why did she care? Pearl was the hated enemy. Defiling this representation of her should be a good thing! But...but...
Marina tried to pull the trigger, but instead of a blast of ink from the nozzle, she ejected her lunch through her mouth.
Using her charger as a walking stick, Marina limped back to the inn's common room. One table was full of diners, while the other was empty.
She collapsed into an unoccupied seat and volubly swore in Octarian, not caring who heard.
Heads turned to regard her, but soon turned back to what they had been doing. Idly, she noted that was exactly what she should have expected: to them, she had uttered gibberish they could do nothing with, even if her tone of voice was obvious.
Jelin walked up with a dinner tray: fried fish on a bed of rice garnished with persimmon slices, and tea. He set it in front of Marina and, after a moment's hesitation, gave her a hug.
The raw physical contact did not do much for her. Jellyfish tentacles were much thinner than octoling or inkling arms. But the thought counted. She hugged him back and began bawling into his mass.
After a minute of this, Jelin inquired, "The hunt did not go well?"
"I, I just c-couldn't...dead to rights, I couldn't pull trigger," Marina sobbed.
"You did not leave anyone up there, did you?" Jelin queried. "After we heard your epic battles these past two nights, we forbade anyone else from going up the mountain tonight."
Epic...? Her training. They must have heard her shots and assumed what she was firing at. Not bothering to correct him, she shook her head. "No one else. No one to rescue. No excuse." Squeezing him tighter, she wailed, "What's wrong with me?!?"
Jelin patted her. "I think I know."
Marina let him go and bolted upright, eyes fixed on him, her face a mask of curiosity and hope.
The innkeeper let her go and sat next to her. "I suspected it when we first met. Now it is confirmed. If you were a killer, you would not have taken so many shots. You think you need to be tough, but yours is a gentle soul. Maybe you only learned the ways of hate." He tapped her chest plate. "I know not where you came across this, but it does not seem made to inspire friendship."
"I..." Warnings blared in the back of her mind. She kept her secret for a reason. If word got out that she was the enemy...no. These were not her enemy. Not this jellyfish, anyway. "I have..." She patted her chest plate. "...training."
Jelin nodded. "Misplaced training, it would seem. Maybe try acting instead from love."
Marina's eyes widened, mental gears clicking into place as his advice resonated.
"Perhaps a trap," the jellyfish suggested. Pointing to her hover drone, he added, "You seem to have a knack for machines. Whatever that is, it is clear that you take good care of it."
Marina nodded.
Jelin laid a tentacle gently on her wrist. "But for tonight, eat and rest. You are in no condition to sally forth again right now, and there is no sign of the monster this night. Please do not become a needless casualty."
"Acknowledged." Marina took in a shaking breath, and turned her gaze to the food in front of her. "Thanking you."
Unlike the owl, the food did not long survive her attentions.
Marina had heard of love. Was that it, then? Some form of infatuation, some frilly fancy that tickled her heart?
Pearl did seem seriously cool, when Marina looked back on their encounter. Even before Pearl stood above her, back when she was just standing in the forest with that smear of brown ink on her front.
...why was that important?
Pearl gestured to the smear. "Hello, Marina!"
Oh, right. Marina was dreaming again, and her subconscious was trying to tell her something. Since it felt no qualms about being rude to her, she was free to respond in kind. "What?"
Pearl gestured again. "Where do you think this came from?"
"Well, obviously, I shot you," Marina responded.
Pearl nodded.
"Collateral damage when I fired down the monster's gullet. It was about to eat you," Marina finished.
Pearl froze, looked at Marina, and facepalmed.
"You know how powerful our charger is," Marina chided. "If I'd hit you directly at full charge, you would have been splatted. You weren't."
Pearl pulled out Marina's still-half-broken keyboard and gestured to it. "Hel-LOOOOOOOOO!"
Marina felt herself vibrating under that invisible Killer Wail, coming from...impossible. No. Nobody screams that-
Pearl held up one of the pictures Marina had found online, of a young Pearl surrounded by a shattered music venue.
Marina regarded it, her eyes opening wider - and then her eyes opened to the waking world. Taking a moment to process her dream, she looked in a corner of the room where her armor lay. She remembered getting back to her room last night, tearing off her armor and boots, then throwing them and her charger in a pile atop her goggles. Picking up her weapon, her gaze went immediately to the safety switch, which was on. Even a fully charged shot would barely be enough to ink turf.
For all her intention to speak primarily in Inkling, she was getting mileage out of Octarian curse words that week.
In mid-day sunlight, Marina stood before the forest. She had changed back to her leathers and headphones, having torn her armor, boots, and goggles to scrap. Said scrap fit in a pouch on the tool belt around her waist: the small bag her money had been in, which currency was now in a newly-set-up bank account. Her charger was slung across her back just in case, but it was almost an afterthought. Her only possession still in her room was her keyboard.
She examined the forest as she had never before. Before it just seemed like terrain, no more mutable than support pillars and buildings.
That was the thinking of a warrior. Which Marina could be, had been, but now she needed to be more. The thing that had actually earned her all those promotions. What she was beneath her service, beneath her music.
Marina the engineer gazed upon the large field of building materials in front of her, mind racing with possibilities.
Some distance behind her, well within the village proper, Jelin watched nervously, wondering exactly what he had unleashed.
Construction halted just before dusk. With sunset, set her sunny disposition, doubts beginning to claw back into her foremost thoughts.
Marina lingered an hour longer, partly to technically fulfill her obligation to patrol for the monster, but mostly to double-check what she had made and walk through options. She had three main plans. If her quarry was friendly, Plan A was to tell her she had been scaring the village and have her talk to them, dispelling the legend of a monster. If her target was nonplussed or uncooperative, Plan B used a small array of hidden pits and a few cages concealed in the trees - rigged to trigger once Pearl was splatted or tried to Super Jump - to catch her, which should convince her to not come back. And then, if her prey did turn out to be hostile and Marina's life was threatened, there was Plan C.
The thought of it sickened her, but she was an octoling. Even if she knew she was no enemy of the inklings, would they all agree? Idly, she mused that an analogy could be made to the ranked version of the inklings' Turf War: to achieve Plan A would be an A rank performance, Plan B would be B rank, and so on. Failing at even Plan C meant Plan D: die, most likely at the hands of a mob that Pearl incited or a goon squad that Pearl summoned. Just like in their system, D rank was unacceptable.
She got out her charger, aimed at a smaller tree while charging up, blew a hole straight through, and managed to not throw up. "Just in case," her warrior mask dictated to her engineer soul.
It was necessary, she told herself. She had to live, no matter-
"You. It's been you all along."
Her warrior mask was very good about detecting threats. That was one of that persona's primary purposes. So now, interrupted mid-whisper, she slowly turned around to see what had found her.
Her engineer soul stood tall, hair tentacles ablaze with built up energy. Her fists were balled, her face was in a scowl, and her every fiber trembled with rage as she looked down at the mask. "You're the source of all that paranoia," she hissed. "I thought our subconscious was on to something, but every bad thought about Pearl was just you."
"We need to live," the mask pleaded. Her skin bore holes where the goggles, boots, and armor had been. Unlike the soul, she refused to manifest representations of Marina's new clothing, even at the cost of bodily integrity.
"There is no data suggesting Pearl is a threat," the soul breathed out slowly, "Just the opposite. Subconscious was trying to tell me; I finally figured it out. We've been trying to meet the monster? We've been trying to meet her again. She is our objective!"
"She's the enemy!" The mask tried to stand up, but with jagged stumps at the end of her legs instead of boots, she could barely kneel.
"Inklings are not our enemy."
"Maybe THEY aren't, but SHE is! Can't you feel what she's doing to our heart?" The mask clapped her hands over what remained of her chest, hard enough that more chips fell from her arms. "We can't be in love. There has to be some other explanation. The moment we have confirmation she's doing it on purpose, she needs to die."
"There is." Engineer soul held her hands up high. "Just ONE thing." The fire in her tentacles coalesced into a giant hammer in her hands. "That needs." She stared down at the defiant and crumbling offender. "To DIE!!!"
Marina blinked to consciousness, struggling to recall her dreams, not entirely certain how she had gotten back to bed. She had a fading impression of terrible anger, but could not place just whom she was angry at.
Letting the dream go to focus on the here and now, she spied her weapon in the corner of her room and knew that Plan C was out. She would take her chances, to improve the odds of a better outcome.
It was time for a new plan. A remote hope. So far down in likelihood, it might as well be Plan S: if Marina could befriend Pearl and get her to sing elsewhere, have the hover drone dismantle Plan B's traps before Pearl noticed and called off the friendship. The inklings here trusted her, so maybe winning Pearl's trust was possible too. And there was the whole reason she had struck out for inkling society in the first place. In for a drop, in for a tsunami: it was time to stop living in fear of what might happen, and instead to start living.
Programming Plan S into her hover drone took most of the morning. The rest was disassembling her charger and stowing it in her pouch: for all her practice with it, she had come to hate that weapon and all it represented. Besides, Plans B, A, and S stood a greater chance of success if she appeared "armed" only with her keyboard, which she slung across her back before heading out for lunch.
After lunch, she planned to go back up the mountain for a last double-check. It had been 6 days since Pearl's visit, and today was the start of a new weekend. Perhaps Pearl would visit again that night, or the next. Marina wanted to be as ready as possible.
Walking out the door and seeing Pearl already present was not an outcome she had specifically planned for. Fortunately, Pearl was heading into the forest and had not seen Marina, and Marina had set up a beakon as a general precaution. With no time for fear, Marina closed her eyes, shrank to octopus form, and performed her second ever Super Jump, making certain to not look down until she hit the ground.
Pearl grumbled to herself as she made her way through the forest. That crazy girl had to be the shooter! There was no one else. Shifting colors mid-battle was just not done in Inkopolis, but clearly wherever that Marina was from had different standards. With her getup, she probably came out at night, so coming here by day there would be less-
Pearl's ink ran cold as she heard singing up ahead, instantly recognizing the voice. She tiptoed forward - sure enough, there was that crazy girl, in the clearing, obviously waiting for her while practicing a song with what looked like a junk-tier keyboard that she had to hunch over to use. Pearl sensed serious stalker vibes.
Until she noticed her foot unconsciously tapping to Marina's song. Then her head was nodding to it. Well. Stalker or not, she had to give props to a fellow musician, so Pearl stepped into the clearing.
Marina nodded to Pearl and finished up her song, then stood up straight and waved. "Hey."
Pearl waved back. "Yo. Where'd you learn that song?"
Marina blinked. "Made it. Wanting copy?"
Pearl blinked back. "You wrote it? Sure! That was fire!"
Marina fished out a data card and tossed it to Pearl. "You sing?"
Pearl caught the card and examined it. It looked like no card format she had seen in Inkopolis, but she suspected Sheldon could read it. "You know it."
"No monster." Marina smiled and pointed at Pearl. "Off the hook."
Marina cringed inwardly, resisting the urge to bite her tongue. The phrases were "You're no monster" and "You're off the hook", but now she had mangled them and Plan C or D seemed more likely by the second and why was Pearl just staring at her-
"Off the Hook is a GREAT band name!" Pearl grinned. "You were asking to start a band, right? If you can write more songs like that, you're in!"
Marina's mental gears slipped a cog, then another. Plans rolled by and discarded themselves.
Pearl marched forward and grabbed Marina's hand. "C'mon! We've got to get your song properly recorded. I've got a studio."
With her free hand, Marina signaled her hover drone to implement Plan S. But whatever was happening was beyond Plan S.
Pearl began dragging her down the mountain. "But we've got to do something about your vocab. I'll teach you Inkopolis lingo, and how things work around here."
Marina stumbled behind her, eventually settling on calling this Plan X: just go with it, whatever life Pearl was leading her into. It was not what she was used to, but if it meant hanging out with Pearl, it might be worth becoming someone new. Someone she chose to be, this time.
And that is how Marina Ida, the idol musician, was born.