The deep, resonant hum of the ancient submarine was the only constant in a world that had shifted beneath their feet. The strained silence of the docking bay gave way to the controlled chaos of the vessel's heart. In the advanced medical bay, the air carried the clean, sharp scent of antiseptic herbs and the low thrum of dormant machinery.
Eliane lay cradled on a raised bed, her silver hair fanned out like a halo, her face pale against the dark material. Over her, a spectacle unfolded that held Dr. Zip H. Scatyl utterly captive. His yellow eyes were wide, his usually fidgeting hands still at his sides.
Dr. Octavious, the octopus-form hologram, was a symphony of soft blue light and efficient motion. Six shimmering, tactile tentacles moved in a harmonious dance independent of each other. One tipped with a delicate scanner pulsed a gentle wave of light over Eliane's chest. Another morphed into a suturing needle of solid photons, weaving an invisible energy stitch across a scraped knee she hadn't even noticed. A third held a crystalline beaker, collecting a single, glowing tear that had leaked from Eliane's closed eye, analyzing its composition. He muttered to himself in his quaky, vibrating voice, "Cellular fatigue markers elevated… pyrokinesis backlash evident… administering calibrated nutrient mist… truly, the Lunarian metabolic process is a marvel of inefficient combustion…"
Scatyl leaned in, his breath a soft hiss. "Fascinating… the photon-based somatic manipulation… the non-invasive spectral diagnosis… this is… this is artistry." There was a hunger in his voice that had nothing to do with healing.
Across the room, a whirlwind of unbridled energy provided a stark contrast. Jelly Squish, a bouncing azure blob of joy, zipped around medical consoles yelling, "Bloop! You're it, tiny!"
Sanza, his red hair flying, scrambled after him with a fierce grin, his Celestial Dragon decorum forgotten. "You cannot outmaneuver the future Supreme Commander, gelatinous life-form!" Mikasi, in his coyote form, was the wild card. He'd flicker, disappearing from one shadow and reappearing right in front of Sanza to trip him up with a shimmering leg, or morph mid-stride into a floating, cartoonish butterfly that Jelly would chase with a delighted squeal. Their game of tag was less a game and more a localized, cheerful catastrophe.
Marya, Jannali, and Bianca stood near the central holoprojector, an island of grim planning in a sea of absurdity. Halia's graceful form hovered beside them, her ethereal tail casting shifting blue patterns on their faces.
"So, like, yeah," Bianca was saying, gesturing with a wrench she'd pulled from one of her deep pockets. "When you, like, zoomed past my deadline, I was like, 'Well, guess I'll go help the other team and then swing back for a rerescue.'" She flicked her wrist, the motion dismissive yet full of unspoken worry.
Marya simply nodded, her golden eyes tracking the chaotic children while absorbing the report. Her posture was relaxed, but the grip of her thumb on the strap of Nisshoku's scabbard was tight.
Jannali crossed her arms, her hoop earrings glinting. "Right. So now everyone's in the same pot, just on different burners. All we gotta do is sail into this Kamaten place, pluck our mates out, quick in-and-out. Easy as pie." Her twang made it sound both utterly simple and completely ridiculous.
Bianca tilted her head, a skeptical smirk on her lips. "Like, yeah. That's, like, exactly what we thought about grabbing you. And, like, look how that turned out. Aces."
Halia interjected smoothly, her voice a calming balm. "Perhaps a visual assessment would aid strategic formulation." She waved a hand, and the air above the projector coalesced into a three-dimensional, rotating image.
It was Kamaten Island.
The breath left Jannali in a low whistle. "Bloody hell."
The hologram depicted a monstrous, grey-black scar upon the sea. It wasn't an island of green and life; it was a colossal, petrified skull of stone and ash. A giant, spiraling screw of dark iron—the Grand Anchor—jutted from its center, a blasphemous pin driven into the world's scalp. It was indeed a structure that dared to scratch the heavens, a rival to the Red Line in its oppressive scale. Millions of tiny, rusted clock gears spun on poles like metallic grass, a silent, ceaseless chiku-taku, chiku-taku almost audible in the imagination. A yellow, acidic river cut through the grey like a weeping wound, flowing into a central lake that looked too still, too dark.
"Is that… is that a giant bloody screw coming out of it?" Jannali breathed, her hunter's eyes wide.
"Your assessment is correct," Halia confirmed, her tone neutral. "The scale is consistent with geo-engineering on the level of Void Century megaprojects. These," she highlighted several offshore platforms belching dark smoke into a perpetually grey sky, "are the deep-sea ore smelting rigs the scholar referenced."
Marya's gaze was fixed on the image. "And he wanted you to destroy them."
"Like, yeah," Bianca nodded, popping her hip. "That's, like, the gist he got out before the, like, line went all fuzzy. Like, blow the floaty factories."
Marya's lips moved silently, her mind working. "That was part of their plan." She pinched her chin, a rare sign of deep thought. "I would rather just go in, take our people, and leave. lean."
Halia's form rippled. "Without precise biosignature locations, a direct extraction amidst an unknown garrison presents a success probability of less than eighteen percent."
Bianca threw her hands up. "So, like, what's the play? We're. like, spinning our wheels here."
Marya's eyes finally left the hologram, scanning the faces around her. Her gaze, cool and evaluating, settled on Jannali. "You and I go in. Find them. Get out. Unnoticed."
Jannali let out a short, sharp laugh. "Yeah, nah, mate. Sounds like a proper pipe dream. What about all the guards? Those big weepy monks? The whole… vibe of the place?" She gestured at the holographic hellscape.
"You're, like, forgetting something," Bianca interjected, tapping her temple. "We, like, need those power crystals too. For, like, the ship's glitchy bits. Halia?"
"Correct," the hologram affirmed. "Kamaten Island possesses unique geological formations that crystallize ambient temporal energy. They are essential for reactivating the vessel's dormant phase-shift capabilities." The hologram zoomed in, focusing on a jagged, screaming-face mountain—Mount Kyosei. A network of veins within it glowed a soft, ominous purple. "Scans indicate an ample supply within this peak. Portable resonance scanners will expedite the collection process."
Marya closed her eyes for a second, a deep sigh escaping her. "Fine. Okay. So we get our people, we get these crystals, and we leave." Her plan sounded hollow even to her.
Bianca's skepticism was a physical presence. "This all sounds, like,… really, really vague, Marya. Like, 'hope-for-the-best' levels of vague.
"Where would our people be held?" Marya asked, ignoring her.
Halia manipulated the image again. A squat, fortress structure near the base of the Anchor lit up. "Based on Vivre card directional triangulation and structural analysis of penal labor camps, the highest probability places them within this compound."
Marya gave a single, firm nod. "Alright. We go tonight, after sundown. We take the small sub and park it here, near these cliffs—Cape Wallows. We infiltrate the compound, retrieve our crew, navigate to Mount Kyosei, secure the crystals, and extract." She laid it out like a simple grocery list.
Bianca stared, her jaw slightly slack. "So… Like, what about Charlie's plan? The whole, like, 'blow up the rigs' thing?"
"That's Plan B," Marya stated. "If we need a major distraction to cover our escape, we call you. You give us fireworks."
Bianca sighed, a long, drawn-out sound of profound doubt. "Right. Like, stand by for the 'maybe-boom' signal. Like, got it."
From the medical bed, Dr. Octavious paused his work. Dr. Scatyl, who had been scribbling furious notes on a piece of vellum, looked up. "Truly fascinating! The symbiotic relationship… a parasitic geological cycle! Remarkable!"
Halia turned her serene gaze toward them. "The patient is suffering from severe overexertion and metabolic cascade. Complete rest is prescribed. Full recovery is anticipated."
Jannali nodded, pushing off the console she'd been leaning against. "Right. So it's just you and me, then?" She looked at Marya, a fierce readiness in her eyes.
Marya returned the look. "We'll bring the jellyfish and the coyote, too. For… unconventional support."
Sanza, who had finally collapsed in a giggling heap with Jelly and Mikasi, popped his head up. "What about me? What is my deployment?"
Bianca walked over and ruffled his already wild hair. "Like, it's you and me, kid. We're, like, on stand-by. Like, keep the home fires burning and, like, the big guns ready."
Sanza puffed out his chest, trying to look offended but unable to hide his glee at being included. "A vital support role! I shall monitor communications with unparalleled vigilance!"
Marya allowed a small, almost invisible smirk to touch her lips. "Keep the comms open. If you hear us call for chaos, give it to them."
Bianca saluted with her wrench. "Like, yeah. For sure. We'll, like, be here, building the world's most dramatic fidget spinner out of torpedoes."
The plan was set. It was reckless, thin, and born of desperation. In the medical bay, Eliane slept fitfully, tended by a glitching hologram and watched by a morbidly fascinated ogre. On the floor, a future tyrant, a failed experiment, and a trickster guitar-coyote caught their breath, an unlikely echo of simpler times. And in the center of the room, surrounded by the ghostly light of a damned island, a small group of tired, determined people prepared to walk into the mouth of a god, hoping to steal back what was theirs before the clock ran out.
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