Chapter Text
Purple could see everyone on their monitors. Everyone. Except. Lime. Purple really wasn't sure how they managed that, just vanishing like those ghost gremlin things they'd always grumble about as they passed them in the halls, but it always left them peeved. And maybe just a little jittery. In fact, right now, right this second, they can feel it– a sharp, cold tingle, like static beneath their fur. If asked, they'll claim that they're just annoyed, because it's hard to do security when the crew won't remain secured!-- And on the gosh-darn cameras provided for their safety.
Okay, probably– no, definitely not actually for their safety, definitely more for like… MIRA liability concerns or something equally corporate-y and entirely unphilanthropic and definitely something Purple should be worried about. They should definitely destroy these tapes, every last one, once this mission is over. Assuming they ever actually see this mission to its end. Which they would feel so much better about the prospects of if crewmates would stop dodging the security cams! That are for safety… And corporate bureaucratic bullshit. Mostly the bureaucratic bullshit, obviously, because that’s what it's always about with fucking MIRA, but at least with Purple in charge of it, all that surveillance could be a smidgen about safety.
Quietly, Purple can admit that knowing everyone’s whereabouts does make them feel safe, at least.
Everyone except for goddamn Lime. Great. Lime and… hold on.
They lean closer to the monitors. For the most part, things are business as usual– Cyan and Black are looking over rocks and arguing about something stupid. Brown, Yellow and Green are all in the kitchens. Purple leans closer and still can’t tell what they’re cooking, so... They quickly scan the other screens, quickly naming off crewmates as they spot them, heart pounding because multiple are missing.
Blue. White’s body, yet to be cleaned up... Red. No Lime, obviously… vent-crawling weirdo. But… where was…?
They barely heard them. A tiny little scuffle that could have been mistaken for anything really, like a cough or the occasional tapping of Purple's foot. Then a hand was landing on their shoulder and instantly Purple whirled around in their seat, grabbing them so quickly they couldn’t jump back or pull away.
It was Orange. Of course it was Orange. Just staring at them with that stupid, stupid, overly dense shine in their visor. At this point Purple’s sort of shaking, the adrenaline and brief panic leaving them feeling terse. Prickly. Meanwhile, Orange was just standing there looking as unruffled as ever.
“What the… what the fuck, Orange!” Purple snapped, embarrassingly breathless. “You can’t just sneak up on crewmates like that. It’s… there’s rules against that.” They grumbled out the last word irritably, tugging their hat a little over their visor to try to save face. “Probably.”
Orange hummed as they processed that. Then in their usual, overly bright sing-song, they said, “Wellllll, I have read all five hundred and fifty-three pages of the MIRA Manual for Official Crewmate Conduct, and nowhere in any of those pages is there mention of a rule about sneaking, so–”
“Hey, hey, I said probably, okay? I totally said probably! So stop it with all the code and conduct mumbo-jumbo, and just…” Purple gritted their teeth. If they were being honest, they hated Orange… less than Red, but mainly in the sense that Purple’s hatred for Orange wasn’t personal, and the same couldn’t be said for Red… that spineless sellout. No, Orange had the slight leg-up of having not totally fucked over Purple, but they were still just impossible to like because it was like having MIRA in the room with you any time they walked in. A living, breathing, talking advert; A senseless parrot, repeating their corporate-sanctioned lines. But at least they were honest about it– they weren’t pretending to be a fucking hero like Red loved to do. That was something, at least.
Purple exhaled slowly, and decided to try to be nice. “Just tell me what you want.”
Because obviously they want something. Orange didn’t do social calls, unless of course it was part of a company required team building exercise.
“Oh, right! I have some paperwork I need you to sign. Pronto, hence why I skidaddled on down here as quick as I could!” Orange exclaimed, sounding so gosh darn excited about that dang paperwork.
Purple looked around. Shockingly, or maybe not shockingly at all, Orange didn’t seem to have any paperwork on them.
“Where is it?” Purple asked, visor ridge raised beneath their hat.
Orange took a long, long moment to think about that. Then, after a brief delay just like a computer buffering, they raised a single finger up to the ceiling to indicate they’d figured it out, before proclaiming loudly, “It’s in my pack, of course! Just a moment while I retrieve it. Um, would you mind averting your gaze, please?”
Purple quickly looked away while Orange removed their pack so they could rummage around for their paperwork. Gaze tracking the monitors, looking for anything odd that might have occurred while they were distracted, Purple tried not to listen to Orange’s constant remarks in the background.
“I was asking for politeness sake, as it is company policy that crewmates never be seen without their packs on in the workplace, per Code 472. So you definitely cannot look! Haha, or we might have to fire you; out into the abyss of space! That’s office humor! Teehee.”
Oh wow, they just made a teehee sound instead of laughing? And they were still talking… The moment was just stretching on forever, and eventually Purple couldn’t help but ask, “Okay, why didn’t you do this before you got here? There’s a super long hallway before you even get to Security… you had options.”
“I didn’t want any of the forms to get wrinkled in case I tripped!” Orange chirped.
The rustling had ended, and then Purple heard the quiet zip of a zipper closing. They waited until Orange said they were done, y’know, for politeness sake, before turning back and away from the monitors. Thankfully, everything there was business as usual… nothing was on fire, or melting down, so they had a minute to get this paperwork knocked out and out of the way.
Orange was carefully arranging their stack, hands at its sides to keep it tidy. Then with a quiet tada, they presented the papers to Purple, who grabbed them with one hand. With the other, they felt around on their admittedly quite messy workstation for a pen. Hopefully the blue one that sounded just right when they clicked it.
As they start reading the first page, because they no longer sign anything ever without reading it completely and entirely, and just as their hand found their pen, they noticed something alarming. Third line… mention of petmates.
Their heart sank, and then their hackles raised.
“What the hell is this?”
“Language, Purple!” Orange laughed, and it was so goodnatured and relaxed when it shouldn’t be– not when they were in the middle of ruining Purple’s whole day, their entire month– no, no, not just their entire month, but 2000 of them in a row, because they were about to fuck up Purple’s life. For woe, what was their life without Heracles in it? Not that Orange would or could understand that. Clearly they didn’t, because they still sounded relatively, and inappropriately cheery as they said, “That is not in accordance with our policies at all…”
“I don’t care!” Purple covered their face, trying to keep calm so they didn’t dig this hole even deeper for themselves. “This– I know what this is, and, fu– fudge it!... is definitely what I was going to say.”
Okay, okay, calm down! Maybe if they just played their cards right, they could avoid this oncoming disaster. Meaning they had to avoid ticking Orange off, seeing as they were the one thing standing between them and being able to keep their beloved fishmate. Them… not corporate, not really. That should make it a little easier, right? A behemoth like MIRA was too big to listen, but a crewmate could be reasoned with. So, they ought to get to reasoning.
“How’d you find out?” Exhausted, Purple fell back into their chair. Their mind was racing, searching through their memory for where they slipped up badly enough to get caught, but they were blanking. Eventually, they muttered, “I was so careful.”
They’d packed everything neatly in their own luggage. Nothing metal, that way not a single detector could be triggered and cause their belongings to need checking. The day they were scheduled to board the Skeld, Purple kept Heracles with them in a cup, deposited them in a larger bowl as soon as they could once on board, then spent all of their personal time (which meant late nights, once everyone was asleep) setting up Heracles’ tank in the Oxygen Room. There was no way Orange saw them, because Purple would have known. So where the heck did this mysterious knowledge come from?
Purple watched and waited for Orange’s response.
Orange shrugged like it was no big deal, because apparently it’d been really easy to catch Purple out. Great. That didn’t bode well at all.
“I did notice that about fifty gallons of water vanished miraculously from our onboard stores.” Emphasis on the word miraculously, and Purple genuinely couldn’t tell if that was sarcastic, or facetious. It did, distinctly, feel like they were being made fun of, and Orange’s constant, almost leering smile wasn’t helping. “Afterwards, I went on a scavenger hunt of sorts!”
And, okay, they were definitely being teased, huh? It was obvious, with the way Orange was laughing and gesturing like Purple was in on the joke too, enjoying themselves right along with them.
But worst yet… Thwarted by a water meter? That was their downfall? Heracles the mighty, lost over a readout on a screen? At this point, all Purple could say was, “Seriously?”
“Of course,” Orange chirped, and then proclaimed, not unlike you’d say the spiffiest little jingle, “Everything needs to be accounted for properly! It’s very important to the Booking Department.”
“Whatever! None of that matters– I’m not going to let you take away the only thing that makes me happy.” Purple snapped at them, then proclaimed victoriously, because oh gosh, they needed a win right now. Desperately. “So… so there! How about you tell that to corporate, huh?”
And they assumed that would be the end of it. Purple would get their very tiny, very momentary consolation prize, and then their poor fish-buddy would get sent out via trash chute into the cold expanse of space. Would Purple be kicked off the ship too? And if so, before or after they return from their destination? Being essentially sentenced to an untimely death for a single infraction seemed like an overly harsh sentence, but Purple knew of MIRA’s cruelty already, having witnessed it firsthand, and they were confident it was a distinct possibility.
So, they waited. Waited for Orange to reprimand them. Rant and rave, like supervisors past. HR often had a bone to pick with Purple– not social enough, too closed off, not a team-fucking-player. And Purple curled in their chair slightly and waited for the inevitable– at least a mention of how selfish they were, wasting valuable company resources like that.
Imagine their shock when none of that happened. Instead, Orange just got all wide-visored, then for a moment seemed genuinely… concerned?
“Oh, no! Who said anything about taking things away?” They shook their head, and their smile seemed tight, but their gaze was… soft… even as they made a show of ribbing them, and in such a warm instance of camaraderie between coworkers, said, “No, don’t be silly, Purple! Just read a little further; it should be the first page, tenth line from the bottom!”
Purple read the line beneath their breath. Something, something… official designation… uh, oh. It said service animal in bold print. The petmate, here-on designated Heracles, owned by the MIRA contractor listed thereof: Purple, is to be identified as an…
“Emotional support animal,” Purple finished reading, loudly enough anyone in the room could hear. “Wait, wait, so you…” They glanced up, slack-jawed. “I don’t understand.”
“I could tell that Heracles must be very important to you, since you’d go through all the trouble to sneak them in here!” Orange laughed yet again. “Or should I say bring them on the ship with my knowledge, after getting all the proper clearances. Which you did do, right?”
They indicated that Purple should nod their head. So Purple did.
Orange nodded too, humming a happy little sound. “Of course! And clearly, you need them to stay healthy, happy, and efficient. Right?”
Another indicator they should nod. So Purple nodded again. Yeah. Of course.
“That settles it then!” Orange announced, clearly satisfied at a job well done. “Now, as I said before, I just need you to sign on the dotted line, and then I’ll get this sent right up the ladder to management in a jiffy!”
Purple, while still a little mentally dazed by everything that’d transpired in the last few minutes, signed the paperwork in all the places Orange indicated, which meant three times exactly, because what else were they supposed to do? Say no? Purple’s heard the saying about looking gift horses in the mouth… even if this one was especially… odd, and surprising. In the back of their mind they couldn’t help but wonder why Orange would want to do this for them, but that was a thought for another time.
They’d dotted their last i and crossed their last t, and now they sat in silence as they realized this was way too easy. “Wait, so… that's it?”
“Yes indeed-y! Once we get the paperwork squared away, you'll even be able to show Heracles off to the whole ship– which is something you could always do from the beginning. Because we did this the right way!” Orange winked, then exclaimed rather excitedly. “Oh boy, I sure am looking forward to the Welcome Party!”
Purple blinked a few times, utterly confused. “What… for who?”
“For your fishmate, of course!” Orange said, as if it were obvious. “As the sole member of the Planning Committee, I'll be taking care of the whole thing. See you there in exactly two days.”
“Uhh, okay? Aren't you going to at least ask me if I'm free or something?”
“Of course you are, silly! Because it's going straight on your work schedule– Evening to Night on Tuesday: Having the time of your life!” Raising one hand to give them a thumbs up as they left security, Orange shouted behind them, “Bye now!”
Purple watched after them, an utterly baffled expression on their face. “...What in the world was that?”
Okay… this was actually insane. Purple could not believe what they were hearing, and they were, at this very moment, regretting coming to the kitchen for a snack. That was their mistake. Obviously in the future they should just starve, because that was apparently the only way to avoid ridiculous assumptions about their dating life? Of course there was a massive question that had to be asked here, pertaining entirely to how Purple’s dating life could possibly come up or be at all relevant on this mission.
Oh, and why anyone thought Orange of all crewmates wanted to date Purple– That was actually the thousand-bean question.
“That was not them asking me on a date,” Purple declared adamantly.
Yellow tilted their head, and the glint in their visor said they weren't at all convinced. “You sure about that?”
“What do you mean, ‘am I sure’?” Purple asked with a scoff. “Of course I'm sure. No, I mean, seriously, who would call a corporate office party a date? That isn't a date– that’s a short prison stint.”
Yellow sort of just gave them a look, but Brown laughed, so that was a win, right? Somehow. Probably.
“They invited you. Personally, might I add,” Yellow pointed out.
That was a ridiculous notion and a stupid thing to focus on, and Purple was adamant they had to set the record straight right now. It was incredibly important for uh… no particular reason, really, except that Purple was, without a doubt, a purveyor of the truth. Yeah, that was all! Absolutely.
“Well, yeah. It's for my fishmate so they kinda have to invite me.” Purple started scrambling for more truths, for more reasons why this was ridiculous and they should all just stop talking about it– right now! Right this second. Because, well, let’s see, “...Not to mention that uh, everyone on the entire ship is invited, and, and, they couldn't tell me any other way besides in person! We don't have radios, or an actual intercom, or any way to communicate with each other besides the… the alarm, and face-to-face and… oh no… we are so fucked. That’s not safe. Guys, we have no way to talk to each other.”
“Stay focused,” Yellow said with a snap of their fingers right beside Purple’s head. “They clearly like you!”
“Are you not listening? If something goes wrong, we can't warn each other! This is–” Purple frowned at Brown. “What are you shaking your head about?”
“Deflection,” Brown said, still shaking their head.
Yellow nodded their agreement. Purple watched as they chopped vegetables without even really looking, and couldn't help but think– yeah, wait until that knife slips with no comms and no nothing, and, actually that would be pretty bad because blood definitely made them squeamish. “We can both tell you aren’t ready to accept this yet, but we’ll still be right here in this kitchen when you are. Hold on… you’ll have this figured out before dinner tonight, right? Because we’ve got uh. Restocking to do later.”
Brown, who was currently straining uncooked noodles in hot water, said, “No time to talk…”
“Nope!” Yellow agreed as they cleared their cutting board, dropping the assorted diced veggies in a steel bowl. As soon as Yellow had done so, Brown grabbed it and tossed them in a pan already heating on the stove. “We’ll be way too busy, so get out all your doubts now.”
Drumming their fingers against the counter, a consistent melody to distract them, Purple asked incredulously, “Neither of you are hearing me. This is a huge problem for us! Why isn’t anyone else worried about this?”
“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Yellow asked, and their tone genuinely made Purple want to go hide. They could tell when they were being judged.
“Why is that relevant–” Purple huffed and rolled their eyes. “How long do you think it’s been, because you asked that like you think it’s been forever–”
“You said it, not me.”
“You didn’t have to say it and– nope, nope! Focusing!” Purple shouted the next part, hoping to drown out any more incoming counterarguments. “Focusing on the fact that if one of us gets hurt, no one is going to know–!”
There was a rather loud clatter as Lime tossed the vent cover from the vent within the kitchen, before popping their head up like they were a whack-a-mole. “Hey now, that’s a complete lie and ya know it!”
Purple had to catch themself before they fell out of their seat, startled by just how suddenly they’d managed to appear. “Why are you here?! Where’d you come from?!”
Lime ignored them completely, instead immediately launching into the rest of their diatribe as if they hadn’t spoken. “Someone round here gets hurt on the job, and not only will you see it, but all a’ that commotion’ll be impossible to miss from the vents. We’re the best early warnin’ system there is. No need for all that newfangled new tech and nonsense!”
“Oh yeah, well…” Flustered and scrambling for a comeback, eventually Purple said, “What if it was me who got hurt. Then what?”
“I’d hear it. Are ya stupid, or just not listening– don’t answer that. I already know.” Lime ducked back into the vents, reaching a hand up to tug the grate back into place behind them.
“They show up just long enough to correct me, then leave.” Purple said flatly, “Awesome.”
Yellow hummed, then said, “We’ve been trying to convince them to join our… Restocking Efforts, but the one time we could find them they just said they don’t join cults.” Yellow shrugged.
“We all know what you two are doing. You realize that, right?” Purple asked.
“Yeah, duh,” Yellow replied, entirely unbothered. “It’s called building your story… y’know, just in case.”
“Plausible deniability,” Brown pointed out.
“That’s right,” Yellow confirmed. “I’m not getting fucked up by Big Corporate just because we enjoy the splendors and benefits of restocking.”
“Hah! Really– okay, what are the big benefits, huh?”
“Oh no, Purple, you ain’t tricking us with that noise. We see what you’re doing,” Yellow said with the most disapproving sigh. Brown also voiced their disapproval silently, by nodding when Yellow spoke.
Purple asked, “What am I doing, besides being the only crewmate on this whole ship, apparently, who isn’t at least a little delusional?”
“Uh-huh. Well, I can say that you’re the only one in the room lying to themselves,” Yellow replied.
“Is this… are we back on Orange? We’re back to that again? Seriously… This is ridiculous…” Purple couldn’t understand why Yellow and Brown wouldn’t let this thing with Orange go. So what, Orange was uncharacteristically altruistic and very kind to them and literally saved their best friend in the literal whole world. That didn’t mean anything to them– Er, well, they bet that didn’t mean anything to Orange. Surely it was just another form completed and filed away neat and tidy… just one more completed task on the daily Work Checklist. There was no way they did it because it would make Purple happy, because that was plain stupid. Wouldn’t it be?
Yellow shrugged yet again as if to say, you know how it is. Then they asked Purple, “So, what are you going to wear?”
Purple groaned, hanging their head in utter defeat. “I don’t even know why I try…”
“Not that, right?” Yellow asked.
Moroseness forgotten in the face of their irritation, Purple asked sharply, “Do I look like I’d wear my work uniform on a date–”
Yellow nodded way quicker than was necessary. Whiplash fast. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. Without a doubt.”
“Hey, hey! Rude! And, hey, wait– what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Purple pointed at their shirt, “It’s clean. Mostly not wrinkled. I totally could wear this!... if I wanted to.”
“You hearin’ this, Brown?” Yellow asked with a delighted little chortle, and Brown laughed quietly right along with them.
“Hey!--” Purple whined. “You both suck. Has anyone told you that? Because you do. Ugh.”
Purple has never, ever slept well. Okay, that’s probably an over-exaggeration, and therefore kind of a lie. But it was definitely true that Purple couldn’t remember the last time they actually had a good night’s rest. After the Incident, Purple spent a lot of time on the street– sleeping on benches if and when they could get away with that, struggling to find quiet, clean places they could just put their head down for the night. They got used to pavement and cement, and when they finally got their one good blanket, that was a huge step up. And none of that even touched on the need for constant vigilance, because they always had to keep one eye open– none of which led to being well rested.
Even now on the Skeld with their own quarters, they find that they usually can’t relax. Sleep was elusive, so, so very slow to come, and often ended abruptly or in fits. Purple might be able to manage a couple of hours at a time before their body was adamant they had to wake up, because they had to check to see the Happenings for their Safety, and that was that.
Being chronically poorly rested also meant Purple fell asleep at their desk… obviously a lot more often than they would if they could get more than four hours in a night. In theory, they were supposed to be manning Security, right after dinner, making sure everyone made it to their quarters safe and sound before they headed off to their own as well for the night.
As soon as they sat down in their chair, they were out like a light.
Usually Purple’s dreams were basic. Assuming they’re not nightmares, which were a whole other beast entirely, Purple had dreams about the kind of things that happen in a typical day for them: squinting at camera views trying to decipher who’s who when the images are all in grayscale, walking down long hallways that stretched forever with no real destination, or talking to Heracles… that kind of stuff.
Naturally, Purple was pretty confused when Orange was just there… standing around in their perfectly normal dream, waving at them… visor all upturned and smiley. They told them something about being happy to see them, and even in the dream Purple felt weird; all clammy, and with a pounding heart. It was that odd feeling that could be excitement, but could just as easily be anxiousness that’s so intense it's becoming something else entirely.
Then Orange grabbed their hand and started talking about how it was their time to shine and they trusted them, and all this other odd stuff– then abruptly Heracles appeared: not in a tank or anything, just in the middle of the room, off to their left, and Heracles was about fifty times their usual size and just breathing out bubbles, as fishmates were wont to do. After a moment of just watching them quietly, Heracles then spoke to Purple without a single word, and told them, “When it is time, you will know.”
That’s when Purple woke up. Groggy, and still utterly exhausted, just like Heracles said, they did know one thing. All of the signs were there, front and center, and Purple could put together the pieces of what their brain was trying to tell them easily.
Orange was the imposter, and they were going to prove it.