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Buck felt uneasy.
There was something about the undercurrent today, something he'd never felt before. Maddie had looked at him strangely when he'd try to tell her about it as the water lightened up and they roused with the rest of the pod. She was smart, Maddie, just not in the ways of the water. She had shaken her head minutely, her hair twisting around her pretty face and her eyes had fleeted to their father. And fair enough, Buck could take a hint. He wasn't the brightest pearl in the oyster, but he wasn't completely stupid. Their parents seemed in a good mood, and it would be a mistake to ruin that for the both of them. He knew not to flip a gift away.
He supposed Maddie felt like they owed their parents, despite not liking them very much. However, she was the eldest cub, and took after them in every way but her good heart. That was enough to pacify them : a cub that could manage the pod, pass justice, make sure their survival was the priority.
Buck… Buck was the youngest. “A spare,” he had heard once when he was younger, where Maddie was “the heir”. He hadn't been able to understand then, he was barely two heats and two freezes old, but he understood now. He'd never be important enough to them, unless something happened to Maddie, and that would never be the case, because he'd never let anything happen to Maddie.
And then there was the fact that Buck didn't look like the rest of the pod, or the rest of their people for that matter. Where everyone else was thin and fast, powerful but lithe, he had bulked up like a lander as he grew up. His upper frame was wide and solid, and his arms had grown to be the size of Maddie's head. He knew others found him awkward and clumsy, but he was not made for the life of the pod like his family was. They hunted smaller beasts, took care of the algae and the rocky formations, ensured no other pod needed help or tried to encroach in their space.
Buck, on the opposite, enjoyed exploring. He liked swimming with the dolphins (even if they were really creepy sometimes) and the occasional shark, and sometimes he peaked above the water line to get burnt by the ball of light. His body was more resistant than his people was used to, he'd found, for these activities. Even as a cub he'd been able to push further and faster than his agemates, over the safe borders the pod had decided on. He was strong, and could endure the water when it got too dark for the others or when it frothed and pulled towards the land.
He rarely went, though. It was too dangerous nowadays, as the landers kept pushing further for fun on their contraptions. Those could cut a tail right in two — he'd seen it happen to a fish that had tagged along with him for a swim one day. It haunted his rest sometimes, but it didn't prevent Buck from sometimes pushing and pushing himself until he found that small, rocky beach further down the coast of the large gathering and irrespirable air and water of the lander pod.
He had no idea how the landers lived, but clearly it couldn't be too good. The fish had all but deserted the area, today was no exception when he left the pod for his daily exploration. He had decided to go to the beach, on a strange impulse.
Buck was on his way, far under the breach of the water — he would swore on all the salt of the seas for the rest of his life, he had done everything he needed to be safe. He barely felt the shadow of a lone contraption pass overhead as he swam.
And then, the undercurrent tugged. Violently so. He knew something had been wrong. He watched as the water to his left lightened and lightened and lightened, while a rumble shook his bones, coming from his right.
The… fish. They'd all gone. All .
He did not panic — there was no time left for it, as a wall of darkened water rushed at him mercilessly.
Carla Price was a very practical and well-learnt woman. When she had seen the water retreat, she had tried to get everyone to calmly rush off the pier. She'd tried , but even with the best WWTOED training, she was not a first responder. And Christopher, damnit— she whimpered as she helped the poor boy climb into the plush pit, scrambling after him and ordered in her calmest screaming voice to hold on.
Then the water rushed them and it was dark.
He was tossed around like he'd never been — even as a cub, a tiny cub, he'd not been shaken and thrown around in this way. He panicked then, as large objects smacked into his tail, his arms, his torso; he flinched in pain as something scratched across his face, the salt water thankfully soothing on his wounds.
It lasted an eternity and a half, or it felt that way. When he stopped careening around, tail over head and fins flapping around, Buck was disoriented and completely lost. His surroundings were unfamiliar when he looked around as the waters calmed. He had no idea where he was, the currents unfamiliar and chaotic against his senses, until he realised : he's been pulled inland . Except inland was now covered with seawater, a new place he could explore — yet dangerous, tumultuous, and probably filled with landers ready to panic and hurt and kill to be safe. None in sight for the moment, thankfully; but he doubted his luck would hold. There were large lander contraptions and objects sinking around him, blocking out the light. The waters were muddled and sandy in colour, which he found gross and unpleasant. He shuddered, and he wished he could wipe it from his skin and scales, but there was nothing to do about it right now. His tail hurt whenever he tried to double down and check it for damage, but he found himself otherwise quite alright.
He finally dared to peek over the waterline.
Chaos. Pure chaos.
These landers had serious, very serious troubles with their way of thinking. Why couldn't they use all their rocky formations and weird, tall algae ? Why did they have to add so many things on top of it ? He made a sound of disgust, strangely clear in the not-water. He hadn't spoken or sung in half an age, it felt like, and his own unused voice felt strange to his ears. He was too used to the melodious hums carried through water, the shrills of marine life and songs of the lonely whale out in the wide waters.
“Help! Help me!”
He turned, blood freezing several degrees further in his veins. He'd definitely heard the soft-spoken lander, the fear evident in their voice. What clued him in first of their position was the turbulence in the water, uncommon — like someone was frothing it themselves. Everyone knew the seas frothed on their own as they approached land.
Despite his own fears, the voice sounded young. He tried to remember his first heats and freezes, when he was left to his own devices at an age much too young. And landers weren't made for the water. Once he realised that voice could be snuffed out and swallowed, Buck kicked himself into gear and swam against the current, closer to the disturbance.
“Help! Carla! Carla, where are you?!”
The lander was small, and uncoordinated. Buck thought they couldn't be over four seasons old, when one started to make their own memories. Buck's heart squeezed in his chest, and he approached carefully. The cub was barely staying afloat, grabbing for floating bits here and there. They had to stay above the water line, he remembered — landers couldn't go in the waters for long.
“Little one?” He had no idea if that was a male or a female. “Little one!” He cried over the lander’s shouts — as much as their voice was subdued, they were panicked enough that getting them to pay him attention required several tries. Buck's own voice remained rough from disuse, which certainly didn't help.
Finally the cub turned in his direction, eyes nearly closed, face flushed and weepy.
“Who are you? You're not Carla, she— she was with me—”
“What would be your name, little one?”
“Christopher. Christopher Diaz.”
“Mine own name is Buck. I shall help.”
“Buck? Like a bucket?”
He had no idea what a bucket was.
“Um, no—”
“Is it like a nickname?”
Were cubs always this curious? Maybe they'd hit their head? And Buck was no way closer to having an idea of what a nickname was than he did a bucket. Still.
“Most certainly. A nickname.”
“Then I'm Chris.”
Well, that was closer to a pod name than the first name he'd been given. The cub was probably male. Buck nodded, and winced as the cub, Chris, kept kicking and flailing his arms to stay up with the waterline. He would not manage to help if the little lander kept moving, or realised exactly whom he'd just met. There was a reason they never made contact anymore. There was a time where sailors were still a trusted group, but that was a long time ago, ages before his own father came to rule.
“Chris, may you stop moving? I shall carry you to safety. I am a most excellent swimmer.”
“Are you sure, Mister Buck?”
“Quite sure, cub.”
He didn't have the time to elaborate as a large piece of… he wasn't sure what came rushing at them. Pure instinct made him move, grabbing the cub tight enough to bruise and giving a shock of his tail, propulsing them off the path of danger.
Chris’ eyes momentarily opened wide, watery and so, so scared. Buck did not have to be of the same species to understand the emotions in these young eyes.
“As you can ascertain now, I shall manage. Can you keep a tight hold, little one?”
“I have CP,” Chris said dejectedly. “I dunno.” And Buck was not sure what CP was, either. It just joined the seemingly growing list of words Buck had never heard before.
“Make the best of it. Around my middle,” he explained, and helped the cub arrange strangely uncooperative limbs around his lander-like torso. He was too small to reach his tail, bless the salt. “There, are you settled comfortably, cub?”
“Not really,” Chris said in that very soft voice of his, and the apparently universal honesty of youngsters. “But it's better than before. Much better, Mister Buck.”
Buck nodded. Despite it all, he found comfort in the company of another being, too. And he was a grown mer, in his element. He couldn't begin to imagine how terrifying this could be for a small lander, all alone, separated from his parents and pod. Chris had talked about a Carla, maybe his mother, if Buck had to guess. He wondered if she was alright, too.
They swam around for what felt like entire cycles, but Buck could feel the ball of light overhead, moving ever so slowly. It couldn't have been that long at all.
Buck kept up a stream of mindless chatter, answering his new charge’s questions as best as he could. The cub was very curious and able to keep his mind off the direness of his situation. Soon he started calling him just Buck — which meant Mister must have been a title. Chris was polite and well-behaved, so different from his own memories of what it felt like to be younger. They seemed to share a love for the most random knowledge, though, and Chris told him a lot about Californian Parks, whatever those were, and the trees in them. Buck felt too out of his depth to really dig into what all those things were, and responded with simple 'and did you know..?' facts about the wildlife that surrounded his own home. After a while, Chris started shivering against his body, like he was too cold. The waters weren't too bad, not to Buck, so it had to be a difference in their species. The cub needed warmth, and soon, which Buck would never be able to provide, given his cold blood. Time was running out.
“Buck, do you hear that?”
He hadn't, so focused on watching around them. For what, he wasn't sure — a safe, high dry place, another lander he could safely load Chris on to, this Carla female. He hoisted the cub higher on his waist, worried about the water sloshing on their faces. Buck would be fine — his gills would even appreciate the irrigation, actually — but not a lander, nevermind one as small as Chris.
“I— my hearing is not as good as yours, it would appear.” Chris, to his surprise, found it in himself to giggle, despite the situation. Buck was immediately reminded of Maddie, when she was herself a cub still. He grinned. “What did your ears pick up, little one?”
“People. Over there, I think?”
He had pointed to their left, and after swimming amidst lander construction and debris, Buck saw them. A group of landers, on a brightly coloured contraption, huddled together and helping others get onto it.
He was wary of approaching, scared they'd see his tail and do… something, but as he glanced around the water was still crass and there was so many things and… people, he discovered with horror. Dead landers were floating around, too. With one hand, he pressed Chris' face into his neck, trying to shield the cub from as much of these sights as he could. The only highlight was that the live ones would be too troubled to pay him much attention.
“Over here! Sir, over here!”
They'd noticed them, and Buck had no choice left, not really. He was starting to flag, despite his natural strength and capacities, so even if he hadn't wanted to separate from this little cub, he would have had to aim for the group. It couldn't have been a more perfect timing, as he started to feel Chris start to slip in his hold.
“We have you, we got you,” a female was yelling at them. Chris thankfully lifted his head, spurred by the activity around him.
“Little one,” Buck urged. “Chris, this is it, these lan— these people shall help you. I will have to go.”
“No, Buck! I want to stay with you!”
“I— I cannot,” Buck mumbled. “I must go.”
The female was staring, holding her arms out for Chris. Buck pushed at the long lower limbs that had wrapped around him, despite the obvious attempt at revolt from the cub. He hoped Chris had not grown too attached to him, having no idea how landers bonded. He'd learnt Chris was 8 years old, which did not tell him much; that his dad was a firefighter even though Buck did not know what fire was; and that he wanted to be an astronaut when he was older. A lot of little things that just showed Buck how different they were, how many things their species could not reconcile. He had to let go too, despite his own fondness and curiosity.
“Chris, you must find Carla, do you remember?”
“No, no, you saved me! Buck, you can't go, you can't — go…” The little one was weepy, distressed. It hurt his heart to witness.
He managed to pass him to the female, who was helped by another to hoist him up. “Save him. Save Chris,” he all but sighed in relief as she nodded, looking warily at him.
“Sir, you look really tired. You should also—”
“I must not. I shall be fine,” he urged. “Chris,” and he didn't know why he said so, “let us see each other again, one day. I enjoy the beach quite a lot.”
The female looked at him as if sand had filled his head, and they were getting more and more of an audience as the rest of the landers on the contraption were gathering around the newcomer. The ones not immediately taken by the sight of a distressed cub were looking at him and frowning, as if they would haul him up against his will, and sooner rather than later if the tension in the not-water was anything to go by.
Buck was starting to think that this had been the worst idea he had ever had, but suddenly someone shouted overhead, “The water is receding! Brace yourselves!”
The landers all pulled back from the edge of their perch, and Buck took the opportunity of the rushing water to disappear under and far away.
That was for the best.