Chapter Text
Upon the research ship Colony was a wounded octopus, which Maria had rather stubbornly insisted be rescued from the ocean below. Rescuing a sea creature had not been a mission priority, but Shadow couldn’t find it in his heart to deny his beloved research partner. The octopus was a sneaky little fellow, too inquisitive for its own good, which had been made apparent sometime in the dead of night.
Shadow sat on a stool in the survey cabin, his feet propped up on the desk in front of him, watching security footage from a touch after two in the morning. The octopus had breached its tank and skittered across the steel-paneled floor. Despite being wounded—one of its tentacles had been lacerated something fierce by a ship’s rudder, requiring seven stitches and a bandage it kept peeling off itself—the octopus had found no issue in opening the door to the Colony’s main passageway. Shadow tapped a button on his keyboard, switching his screen to another camera as the octopus slunk into the cabin down the hall.
Its destination? The shrimp tank.
The octopus clambered into the tank, basking in the water that soothed its drying skin. Octopodes were more than capable of being out of water for impressive stretches of time, but with a wound such as this, it must have known it was cutting things rather close. These creatures were intelligent. One of the smartest species in the sea, Shadow would wager. Smart enough to have figured out there were shrimp in another room twenty feet away.
The damned thing ate all of the shrimp in the tank, then, satisfied, it made its way back home. All without alerting the sleeping crew. Slippery little bastard.
Shadow fast-forwarded the footage. When the timestamp at the top read four minutes later, one of the research techs walked down the passageway, making her way to the latrine, unaware that anything had transpired. There was almost no evidence left behind, aside from a little trail of spilled water, which had long since dried by morning.
“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” Maria asked from where she stood behind him, leaning over his chair. Her long blonde hair tickled his shoulders. He brushed a few strands away. “I’m so impressed!”
“We were using those shrimp for research,” Shadow grumbled. “We’ll have to figure out how to lock the tank.”
“As if Charlie won’t figure out the lock.”
“We’ll put a weight on the tank.” He paused. Frowned. Turned to Maria. “You named it Charlie?”
“I’m tired of the octopus this, the octopus that. Why not give him a name?”
Shadow rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite conceal the amused grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Whatever. As long as the damn thing doesn’t get in the way of our research again, I don’t care what you call it.”
“The fact that he’s out and about is good, though!” she exclaimed with glee. Shadow’s heart warmed, affection outweighing the performance of stern research captain he’d been trying to maintain. “That means he’s healing! I’m glad he’s done sulking at the bottom of his tank.”
“We’re meant to be measuring ocean acidity, you know,” Shadow said, taking his feet off the desk. He planted his thick, reinforced work boots firm upon the steel floor. “G.U.N. didn’t send us out here to rescue an octopus.”
“G.U.N. will survive if we use a few unplanned resources. Charlie won’t, if we ignore him. Everything’s connected, you know? Shadow, we have to treat everything around us with kindness, or this world will rot. There’s too many people out there who don’t care.”
“I suppose.” Shadow stood and stretched his legs. “C’mon. Let’s feed the damn thing, then we’ll fish up some new shrimp to study. I suppose it’s not all lost. We can see if this new group has the same amount of calcium buildup on their shells…”
He did not wait to finish his sentence before he stalked out of the survey cabin, leaving Maria to scramble after him.
The Colony led seven other research ships across the ocean. Shadow stood at the bow, basking in the spray of saltwater every time a wave crashed against the hull. As lead marine biologist at G.U.N., he’d been on ample research missions, and this would hardly be his last. Each time, he welcomed the ocean as though it were his second home.
Shadow couldn’t help but smile. The expedition, thus far, had gone swimmingly—and no matter how much Maria would have teased him for it, the pun was not intended. The weather was calm, the air cool and refreshing, the sea gentle. And, sure, the results of their research thus far had been rather distressing, with evidence pointing toward ever-lower pH levels, but Shadow was in a good mood. For now. He had a virtual meeting with his superiors at the end of the week, though, where he’d report his findings and present solutions, and he had no doubt his mood would sour in an instant.
He knew exactly how the meeting would go. He would present some solutions to the acidification problem, most of which were along the lines of encourage the government to regulate carbon emissions, and G.U.N. would threaten to defund his research for being so crass. It happened every time. But climate change would not reverse itself any other way. Corporations were too selfish to change their behavior without a legal nudge.
…Plus, he’d have to explain why he’d lost a whole tank of research specimens. And he wasn’t about to throw Maria under the bus. He’d willingly take the blame for the octopus.
Maybe I can claim Charlie is a research specimen, Shadow thought. How does an octopus react to varying levels of ocean acidity?
That was what Maria often called a 'later problem.' He had time to figure it out. For now, Shadow may as well enjoy his time at sea while it lasted. He gnawed on a tuna sandwich and stared out at the horizon. Before him was nothing but water. Not even a faint outline of land in the distance. Just him, his research fleet, and much-welcomed seclusion.
“Captain,” a voice caught Shadow’s attention. He turned to face a crewmate, one of many G.U.N. had contracted to sail. This man had no security clearance, no experience in marine biology, but he knew his way around a ship far better than Shadow.
“Yes?” Shadow answered, tilting his head with curiosity. Usually, the crew left him alone, seeking the lead sailor for any guidance they needed.
“Our radar is fuzzy. Something’s mucking up our sensors.”
“Odd,” Shadow muttered. “What do you figure it is?”
“Nobody knows. Some sort of digital artifacting, it looks like. We can’t sail like this.”
“Let’s find somewhere to dock, then.”
“Sir?” The sailor started, as though he were hesitant to call Shadow out for such insanity. “We’re in the middle of the ocean. There’s nothing for many miles.”
“Watch for birds—they’ll lead us to land.”
“Yes, sir.” The crewmate saluted—an entirely unnecessary gesture, in Shadow’s opinion—and hurried off to relay orders.
By the top of the hour, the fleet’s trajectory turned northeast, chasing a flock of migrating geese. They squawked at one another as they cut through the sky. Obnoxious creatures. Still, Maria stood with her head turned upward, a bright smile on her face. She loved all animals, even geese, assholeish as they tended to be.
Nobody else on this ship was as kindhearted as her. Nobody on this ship was a fraction as smart as her, either.
Shadow had met Maria in graduate school. They shared a chemistry course taught by the most boring professor on the planet. The kind of professor with graying hair and a dull, monotonous voice that put every student to sleep. A few panic sessions at the library were all it took for the two of them to form an inseparable bond. And while Shadow had graduated with average marks with a master’s in Marine Biology, Maria had strutted across the graduation stage at the top of her class, accepting a Ph.D in Animal Science.
Dr. Maria Robotnik, she’d cooed. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?
She was the real expert, if Shadow were being honest, but he’d wound up as G.U.N.’s lead biologist on account of Maria’s grandfather being a member of the executive board. To promote her too far would be considered a conflict of interest in the organization’s eyes. A shame, really. She was spectacular. Far more spectacular than Shadow.
She stood, now, near the starboard hull, her elbows leaned against the rail. “There!” she exclaimed, her bright eyes turning to Shadow. “An island! Maybe there will be people who can help us fix our navigation systems!”
Shadow squinted at the lump that protruded from the otherwise empty horizon. “There’s something weird about it,” he noted. “I don’t think this island exists on any of our maps.”
Heavy, metallic footsteps approached from behind. Shadow knew, long before he turned to look, that those footsteps belonged to the data analytics robot, E-123 Omega. Once a military robot, he had been retired a few years back and reprogrammed for research purposes. Whoever reprogrammed him had not done a fantastic job.
“WE SHOULD RAZE IT TO THE GROUND,” Omega proclaimed. The sun beat down on his metallic body, and Shadow could feel the waves of heat radiating off of him. “A FEW INCENDIARIES IS ALL WE NEED. THE ISLAND IS SMALL. PITIFUL.”
“No,” Shadow snapped. “Maria, come with me. We’ll take a small survey team. Omega, if we come to harm—if we do not return by sunrise—you may storm the island.”
“AFFIRMATIVE. I WILL GATHER GRENADES.”
In half an hour, the small survey team had gathered supplies and congregated at the gangway. Omega lingered nearby, watching with intense red LED eyes. Shadow disregarded him, knowing well that he’d stand vigil there until dawn tomorrow. He had gathered a wide array of explosives, which sat in a splintered wooden crate at his feet.
Shadow led his team ashore. His shoes crunched upon sand and sea glass. There did not appear to be any sign of human development, so far as Shadow could see. No footprints, no campfires, no houses, no boats. Out of curiosity, he switched on the radio clipped to his belt, and all he received was static. No contacting the fleet, then.
Deeper into the island they walked. Away from the sands, the crashing waves. They entered a wooded area, where trees grew so densely packed among each other that only a few speckles of mottled light hit the soft grass at Shadow’s feet.
“It’s so serene here,” Maria chimed in, her wistful voice cutting through the silence. Too much silence, Shadow figured, for a woodland such as this. Despite the flock of geese they’d spotted earlier, not once did Shadow hear the chirps of birds, nor the rustling of animals. The trees swayed soundlessly in a breeeze Shadow could not feel.
What is this place? he wondered. Not on any map, and at the heart of all this radio interference. Odd.
Shadow turned his gaze upwards. The trees boasted odd looking, shapeless fruits. He stared for a while, eyes narrowed, puzzled. They were not apples, nor pears, nor any sort of citrus. What were they?
One of the fruits blipped out of existence for a split second, then returned. A trick of the light? No, he could have sworn…
A voice made its presence known, somewhere in the back of his head, tinny and scratchy like a radio too far out of range.
Get out of here. Leave.
“Oh!” Maria exclaimed, pointing up at the fruits above her head. “Look! We should harvest some of these and bring them back to the ship. We’re running low on supplies, aren’t we?”
“No,” Shadow snapped, his heart catching in his throat. “No, there’s something odd about this. Keep your voices down and your guard up. I don’t trust this place.”
“It’s just woodland, Shadow,” Maria said. “Relax.”
Shadow held his hand out, forcing his team to stop walking. A few researchers toward the back of the group bumped into each other. Maria eyed him with a small, contemplative frown.
Leave. The little voice in the back of his mind was firm and persistent. Shadow wasn’t sure if it was his own subconscious or some other entity entirely. What a silly thing, to think something might be out there, putting its voice into Shadow’s head—and yet… Shadow wasn’t sure he could entirely discount the notion. It felt so real, like a whisper in his ear. A shiver rolled down his spine.
“We’re not safe here,” Shadow said, keeping his voice low, as steady as he could manage, but he did not do a great job concealing the tremor of his nerves. “We should get back to the ship, pick a direction, and sail until we recover connection to our radar system.”
“Look! Up ahead, Shadow. There’s some sheep up there. See them? In the clearing?” Maria nudged Shadow, pointing toward the fluffy white blobs milling around in the near distance. When had that clearing gotten there? Shadow was almost certain there had been trees there moments before. “The sheep would've reacted if there was danger around. But they’re calm. There’s nothing to fear, silly! Come on, let’s go pay them a visit!”
Reluctantly, Shadow followed behind the overeager Maria, who seemed stubborn in her interest in exploring this strange island. Shadow worked his lower lip between his sharp mobian fangs. Her curiosity had a tendency to get the better of her, and Shadow couldn’t help but fear that someday her curiosity would lead her headfirst into danger. Like, for instance, right the fuck now.
There was something off about the sheep. They munched on the grass and stared, their eyes glassy, disinterested as the research crew approached them. One sheep met Shadow’s gaze and stared deep into his soul.
Go. Away. You do not belong here.
“Maria,” Shadow warned as she reached for one of the sheep, her hand gently stroking down the animal’s fluffy pelt.
The moment her long, slender fingers touched wool, the sheep all turned their gazes toward the crew, their eyes full of an intensity ill-suited for such a docile animal. Their bodies flickered like dying bulbs. Like a computer simulation put on pause, the world around them froze. Not a single leaf upon the surrounding trees wavered. The clouds in the sky above stopped drifting in the nonexistent breeze.
“I told you to leave.” The voice. It wasn’t in Shadow’s head anymore. It was all around him. Shadow's crew gasped, whirling around, trying to find the source of the voice. But it—she—was everywhere, and nowhere, all at once.
“Who’s there?” Shadow snapped, his ears stiff and alert, twitching and swiveling as he attempted to pin down the source of the disembodied voice. His fur stood on end. This was wrong, wrong, horribly wrong.
A ripple. A glitch in the fabric of reality itself. A girl blipped into existence before Shadow’s eyes. A young girl, it seemed, with stark white hair and a black dress, though her skin and the fibers of her clothing appeared lined with unnatural, digital red. As though she herself was built out of code, not flesh.
“I am tired of warning you,” she said. Her voice no longer sounded so fractured and distant, but it did still sound digital. As though Shadow were speaking to this girl over the phone. "My sheep are not your playthings. You’ve stomped around my island, made an obnoxious amount of noise, disregarded my warnings—”
“We didn’t realize they were yours," Shadow said. “We're just passing through. Who are you?”
“Who are you?”
“I asked first.”
“Do not play games with me.”
Shadow wasn't all that thrilled by the prospect of giving her his real name. So, instead, he said, “My name is Nobody.”
She evaluated him with cold, calculating eyes. There was a hint of malice, too, lurking beneath her deceptively gentle, childlike features. “My database indicates you are lying. ‘Nobody’ is not a name.”
“How about this? We could make a trade. Our radars are jammed, and we're lost at sea. We'll leave you in peace, and we'll give you something in return for our safe passage.”
“Like what?”
He took a minute to contemplate this. What did he have to offer? “…Shrimp?” he tried. “Government secrets?”
Maria leaned over and whispered, “Charlie ate the shrimp again.”
“It—we put a weight on the tank!” Shadow sputtered. He shook himself off. Not now. “Look, um, Miss—"
“My name is Sage,” she growled. “Goddess of the digital realm. Steward of Cyberspace. Not that your corpses will care.”
“Corpses!? Wait—“
Sage did not wait. She surged forward, a long scythe materializing in her hands. The survey team scrambled for something, anything, to use as a weapon. One grabbed a large tree branch and swung it at Sage with all his might.
Sage sliced through him like he was made of warm butter. His body hit the grass, dripping a pool of red beneath a mangled body. Maria screamed.
“Run!” someone amid the panicking crew shouted.
“No!” Shadow snapped. “We have to fight! We have to end this, here and now! If we don’t, our entire fleet is dead!”
“We aren’t soldiers!” Maria exclaimed, grasping Shadow by the elbow. “We can’t—“
“We have to.” Shadow met her eyes. “There’s no other way. We run, and we lead her to the fleet. We die, and our fleet comes to her. But if we take her down, here and now, we get away with our lives!”
A sharp pop ripped through the air, and a bullet grazed Sage’s cheek. Somebody had brought a gun along with them—but Sage hardly seemed fazed as she swooped in and slaughtered its wielder.
Shadow was not a killer. He was not a fighter. He was a researcher who'd led his crew to the wrong place at the wrong time, and now… he had no choice but to fight for his team's safety.
One life to take. Six hundred to save.
Shadow, with little heed for his own safety, rushed into the mess. He grabbed a sailor by the arm and yanked her back mere moments before Sage’s digital scythe cut through the air. The blade cut a few strands of the sailor’s brown hair, but nothing more.
“We have to subdue her,” Shadow snapped to his crew. “Her eyes—aim for her eyes! If she can’t see, she can’t fight!”
“Yes, sir!” A chorus of voices echoed.
But what could a few dozen mortals possibly do to survive the wrath of a goddess? Shadow watched one of his sailors grab her and hold her down long enough for someone else to shoot out one of her eyes. She did not bleed so much as ooze liquid code, red strands of glitching letters and numbers dripping down the curve of her round cheeks.
Her young appearance did not fool Shadow. She must be a few hundred years into this world. As old as digital technology.
“ENOUGH!” Sage bellowed, wrenching herself free. Her lip curled and her brows furrowed in fury, wrinkling the bridge of her nose. When one of Shadow’s research assistants turned and ran, hoping to find safety in the trees, Sage materialized a throwing knife in her hand and hurled it.
The knife hit the research assistant square in the back. A scream, a thud, then silence.
One by one, Sage cut down Shadow’s team. Bodies hit the grass. Shadow watched in numb horror. Blood stained the grass a deep, arterial red. Bodies piled up, and as they did, the flickering, digital sheep watched with soulless eyes.
"Captain!" his team shouted, punctuating the agonized screaming that filled the otherwise stagnant air.
We're doomed, aren't we? Shadow thought. I was a fool to think we'd survive.
"Shadow!" Maria yelled, snapping him from his thoughts. "Shadow, we need to get to safety—there's a clear path to the shore, we can get to the ships and—"
Maria never finished her sentence.
In a blur of pixels and code, Sage turned her scythe into a sword.
With that sword, she ran Maria through.
Blood bloomed from the wound in Maria's stomach. She did not scream. She choked, tears streaming down her face, as Sage ripped the weapon out of her. She fell to her knees. She held herself up with her hands for as long as she could, but her strength gave out, and she collapsed fully to the grass.
"MARIA!" Shadow scrambled to his colleague, his friend, his sister. He fell to his knees at her side, his hands trembling as he clutched her tight. "Maria, no, nonono, come on—come on, Maria, keep your eyes open. You'll be okay. You'll be fine."
"Shadow," Maria rasped. Her voice was weak, quiet, broken. "Shadow, promise me something."
"Anything," Shadow gasped, choking back the tears that burned behind his eyes.
"Protect the rest of our team, okay? Make sure you all get home safe and sound."
"That includes you," Shadow babbled, trying his best to put pressure on Maria's wound. But her wound was too great. His attempt was futile. "That includes you, Maria—"
"Promise," Maria pressed. She wrapped her chilled fingers around Shadow's wrist.
"Please, Maria, just—don't close your eyes, okay? Keep them open, you'll be okay. You'll be just fine—"
"And take good care of Charlie." Despite Shadow's pleading, the light in Maria's eyes faded, and she fell still. Shadow clutched her limp, lifeless body close, sobbing against her. No, no, no, please…!
"I promise," he whispered against the tangled mess of her hair.
He stood, his body trembling with rage. He would get his team home safely. He would do whatever it took. He grabbed the pistol from a crewmate's lifeless corpse, trying his best to ignore the chill and stillness of death. He'd never fired a gun before, and he would have preferred to continue that streak, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
He cocked the gun. Glanced at his remaining crew. Met Sage's gaze.
Shadow raised the gun and fired.
The bullet smashed through Sage's shoulder, and Sage screamed in some odd mix of pain and rage. Shadow knew a bullet wound would not stall a goddess for long, but it might distract her for long enough to escape, especially when his crew had already taken out one of her eyes.
Wordlessly, Shadow motioned for his crew to move. They scrambled through the thick woodland, ducking through the brush and avoiding low-hanging branches as they bolted for the safety of their ships. Shadow's thighs burned as he dashed onto the sand. His lungs ached as he stood at the base of the gangplank, his team hurrying up its steep slope and aboard the research ship. He counted each one, making sure he had everyone accounted for. Everyone who was still alive.
Only when the remaining six survey crew were aboard did Shadow hurry up the gangplank himself. He heaved it off the beach, then turned to the nearest sailor and yelled, "Get us the hell out of here!"
Sailing was by nature a dreadfully slow process, and this was the first time Shadow found himself resenting the slowness as every ship turned back to the open ocean. Come on, come on, come on…
When all eight ships were out to sea, Shadow dared to glance at the little island. Sage hovered by the shore, bleeding strings of vibrant red code from one eye, her shoulder, her cheek. Her stare was affixed firmly upon Shadow. Fear gripped his chest and squeezed, constricting him, threatening to crush him.
What was the fate of a man who brought upon himself the ire of a god?