Chapter Text
Against his will, Chip found himself awake. He had no idea what had woken him up, or what time it was. He didn’t even remember waking up. He only knew he couldn’t fall back asleep, and he couldn’t stop tossing and turning, which was pretty fucking annoying when you slept in a hammock. His legs kept getting caught and tangled up in the fabric, which only served to make him more annoyed.
Jay’s loud snoring wasn’t helping, either.
With a huff, he shoved himself out of the hammock, bare feet landing on the rough floorboards of the Big Chipper’s cabin. He made his way to the door, not bothering with a shirt, a choice he quickly regretted when the chilly night air met his skin.
Shivering, Chip started towards the rigging, making for the crow’s nest, when a shadow in his periphery caught his eye. He turned to look at it, then did a double-take. It wasn’t just a shadow—it was a person, silhouetted against the bright moonlit water, almost seeming to glow in the moonlight.
Chip was used to having the ship to himself on nights like these. Jay slept like a log, and before Jay he’d been the only one on the ship, leaving him with free rein over the upper deck on sleepless nights—which were more frequent than he’d ever admit.
So he was more than a little surprised to see the fishy new member of his crew sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the ship, staring up at the sky. Even more surprising than that was hearing the fish-man speaking softly, in his deep voice, to something he held in his hand.
“It’s not too different from here,” he said quietly. The thing in his hand chirped softly. “It’s almost like home. But I don’t think we can swim up there.”
“Whatcha got there?” said Chip, walking towards him. Drawing closer, he saw that the glow hadn’t just been from the moon—the fish-man was actually glowing with a faint bluish light from the markings across his face, arms, and tail.
Gillion turned his head sharply. “Chip! I apologize if I woke you. I am having some trouble sleeping, and—”
Chip waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I was awake.” This was not strictly true. While Chip didn’t remember hearing Gillion leave, he also didn’t remember what had woken him. It very well could’ve been the sound of his new crew member leaving the cabin. On the other hand, it might just have been sleeplessness rearing its head again.
“So, what are you doing?”
“I have been looking at the…the, um…” Gillion pointed up at the sky.
Chip eyed him in confusion. “The…stars?”
“Is that what you call it? The thing that looks like the surface? Up there?” Gillion pointed above their heads.
Chip stared at him, even more baffled. “The sky?” He shook his head in amazement. “Boy, they really didn’t teach you much down there, did they?”
“I was taught all I needed to know for my role as Champion,” said Gillion, with a hint of the prophetic-hero tone his voice had held when he had introduced himself to Chip and Jay. Then he deflated. “Unfortunately, that did not include much about the Oversea.”
“So you really are a fish out of water, huh?” Chip said, laughing a little at his own joke.
“That is indeed what I am,” said Gillion, looking dead serious. “What is funny?”
“Never mind,” said Chip. He sat next to Gillion on the ship’s edge, looking out towards the horizon. “Well, Gill—can I call you Gill?”
Gillion looked confused. “I have gills,” he said, self-consciously bringing a hand to the side of his neck. “But I am Gillion.”
“It’s a nickname,” said Chip. “Like…a shorter version of your name. It’s something your friends can call you.”
Gillion gave a toothy smile at the word “friends,” and Chip was startled to see that his teeth were pointed and looked razor-sharp. Somehow, it was so genuine that he didn’t feel the least bit intimidated.
“In that case, you are welcome to call me Gill. I am unfamiliar with Oversea nicknames—what do I call you?”
“My name’s short enough already,” Chip said dismissively. “Just Chip.”
Gill nodded. “I have a much longer name. Gillion Tidestrider, Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep, and now, Chip’s friend Gill.”
Chip laughed. Man, this guy was weird. There was something strangely charming about him, though. Even if he hadn’t understood Chip’s really good “fish out of water” joke.
“Well, Gill, how does it feel to see the sky?”
“It is beautiful,” said Gill. “It’s not so different from the sea at night, just farther away. I was just showing it to Pretzel—”
“Woah, woah, woah,” said Chip, holding up his hands. “Pause. Who’s Pretzel?”
Gillion’s finned ears perked up. “Have you not been introduced?” He held up the hand he’d been talking to when Chip came out. “This is my dear friend Pretzel.” On his palm rested a small pink creature with tentacles and big eyes and, somehow, a wide grin. “Pretzel, this is my new friend Chip.”
Pretzel chirped happily and extended a tentacle to Chip. He pinched it between his fingers and gave the creature a handshake. Pretzel chirped in delight, the smile growing wider.
“Nice to meet you, Pretzel,” Chip said. Gill smiled.
“She is my only friend from back home,” he said, sounding wistful. “It helps to have a reminder of the Undersea, especially when I have to deal with new things like boats, or nicknames, or the sky.”
“Well hey, if you have questions about stuff, you can always ask me or Jay,” Chip offered. He would be helpful, he promised to himself. He just also might have a bit of fun along the way. The guy knew nothing about the world, for gods’ sake. This was too good an opportunity to pass up, and anyone who knew Chip would understand.
The grateful expression on Gill’s face almost made him feel bad about thinking that way. “Thank you, Chip.”
Almost.
“No problem, buddy.”
They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of the waves slapping against the hull, watching the moon shine over the gently moving waves.
“What is that bright circle of light?” Gill asked suddenly, pointing at the nearly-full moon. “The bigger one, not the little ones.”
Chip snorted a laugh, caught off-guard. “That’s the moon. It’s…uh…” he struggled to think of an explanation for what the moon was, exactly.
“That is the moon?” Gillion asked, suddenly excited. His tail thumped against the deck.
“Yeah, do you know about it?” Chip was surprised. Gillion hadn’t known a single thing about the Oversea since Chip had pulled him out of the ocean that morning—hadn’t even known about the sky, but he knew what the moon was?
“My people worship Lunadeyis, the goddess of the moon,” said Gill. “I am her chosen champion. But I have never seen the moon itself before.” He paused. “Do not tell anyone I said this, but it is smaller than I expected.” He gave a furtive glance towards the moon, as though afraid it might be listening.
“I think it’s bigger up close,” Chip said.
“How do you get up close?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s just what Jay told me…I think.” Chip fought back a yawn. He was starting to get sleepy again.
“What are the little dots in the sky called?”
“Stars,” said Chip.
“They look like the fish you can see underwater at night,” said Gill. “They glow just like the stars do. But they are always moving. The stars don’t move.” He was still looking up in wonder. The moonlight reflected off his blue eyes, and for a moment, they looked as deep as the ocean itself.
“Well, they sort of do. Really slowly,” said Chip. Gillion looked even more confused, and Chip decided to keep talking before he had to figure out how to explain the way stars moved. “Check this out, you can see pictures in them, look—” He struggled to remember a constellation.
“Pictures?” Gillion squinted at the sky. “I do not see any.”
“Well, here, see that really bright one over there?”
“They are all very bright,” Gill said doubtfully.
Chip scooted closer to him and pointed, trying to match Gill’s angle as best as possible, which put him much closer to Gillion than he had intended. Close enough that their shoulders brushed, which Chip was…more aware of than he should’ve been. He shoved that off into a little corner of his brain somewhere. Gill didn’t seem to mind. “See that one? Right there?”
“It makes kind of a box with those other three—up that way, and then…kinda like this.” He traced the box with his fingertip. Gill followed the motion, looking completely lost. “And if you go from the corner, it has a handle, like a spoon, see?”
Gill shook his head. “I thought it made a box?”
“Well, it’s not really that literal,” said Chip. “It’s supposed to be a spoon. It’s called the Big Dipper.”
“Like your ship!” said Gill, excitedly.
“Yeah, like my ship.”
“It is very cool that you have a star-picture named after your ship,” said Gill. “Even though I cannot see it.”
“Well, it’s—” Chip started. “Yeah, it is pretty cool. I’m a pretty cool guy.”
Gill nodded sagely. “What other star-pictures are there?”
Chip didn’t actually know any other constellations. He remembered Arlin showing him some when he’d been a kid, but much like Gillion, he hadn’t actually been able to see them. He only remembered the Big Dipper. He didn’t need to tell Gillion that, though.
“Well, uh, there’s…see that little triangle up there?” he said, picking a random cluster of stars.
Gillion looked up and shook his head, still staring starry-eyed. Chip smiled a little at the pun.
“That’s okay,” said Chip. “That’s the cheese wedge that the Great Rat has in its paws.” Chip expected Gillion to call him out, to say, “you’re fucking with me.” It’s what Jay would’ve done.
Instead, he just kept looking up with an expression of pure wonder. It actually made Chip feel really bad about the lie—no, not a lie, he told himself, just a harmless tall tale. He almost wanted to stop it right there, admit his invention and that he didn’t really know any more than Gill did.
But he couldn’t accept that. Maybe lying was a part of his nature. Maybe he just wanted to feel like he knew something about anything, just for a little while. Maybe part of him wanted to keep seeing that starry-eyed look on Gillion’s face, keep him listening to Chip with that expression of wonder, because he said, “And that over there is the Little Fish, see? How they make a curve there, like a tail?” He waved his hand vaguely to the east. Gillion leaned forward intently, scouring the sky.
“I think I see it!” he cried, his tail thumping back and forth excitedly. “Chip, I think I see it!” His delight only made Chip feel worse. “But,” said Gill, looking back at Chip, “I do not understand how it makes a fish.”
That’s because it doesn’t, Chip didn’t say. I’m a liar, I don’t even know why I’m lying, you’re so naive and oblivious and I have no reason to lie to you, but I can’t stop it.
He did say, “That’s okay, buddy. Constellations are weird anyways. We can just look at the stars.”
“Okay,” said Gillion happily, turning his gaze back to the stars.
They just looked for a little while. It wasn’t the same solitary peace Chip was used to having when he couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t mind having a companion. Gillion’s faint glow was somehow comforting. If only he could stop that heavy feeling of guilt sitting in his chest, this moment might even be nice. His neck was sore, he was still cold, and his eyelids were growing ever heavier, but he couldn’t have complained about any of it.
That was unlike him. He was a big fan of complaining.
“I like the ocean at night,” he said absently, not really listening to himself. “There’s nothing in the way of the stars. You can see the whole galaxy.”
Gillion looked at him. “What?”
“Hmmm?”
“You can see the whole galaxy? Does that word have a different meaning in the Oversea?”
“The galaxy, like…all the stars. The whole sky of them. Or maybe just that big line across the sky.” Chip wasn’t exactly an astronomer. “Why? What does it mean in the Undersea?”
“A galaxy is what we call a group of starfish,” said Gillion. “Some of them glow at night, like the fish do. If you look up from the Trench at night, it looks much like the sky does now, although it’s always moving, and the jellyfish make many more moons than you have.”
He looked into the distance for a moment, wearing an expression Chip couldn’t quite read. Thankfully, he brightened before Chip could decide what, exactly, he was supposed to say. “It is nice to know nighttime above the water is much the same as underneath.”
“I bet it is,” Chip said, knowing it sounded shallow but unable to find any words that would feel adequate after hearing all that.
“Thank you for showing me your galaxy, Chip,” said Gillion earnestly, looking at Chip with the starlight reflecting off his ocean-deep eyes once again. “Perhaps one day, I will be able to show you mine.”
“I’d really like that,” said Chip, thinking he would be content if he could just go stargazing in Gillion’s eyes again.