Chapter 19

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"When smoke rises from the seven rings, the pinkfish will emerge from the sea, devouring all the creatures of the land."
—Madai 10:10 (4.2)

Wednesday, 8:04 a.m.
Deep within Octarian territory

From mountain roads to bustling city streets, from rolling hills to vast forests, the scenery outside changed drastically over the course of a six-hour car ride. Octo Valley wasn't exactly the safest place to drive through, nor was there anything out there that most people needed, but the Valley featured unusually craggy peaks set against a haunting coalescence of living and dead. Anyone with a basic appreciation for nature would have stopped to look at the beautifully terrifying sights.

Of course, neither Cole nor Marie paid attention to any of that. At two in the morning, when Sheldon had picked everyone up from the shack, the world outside was still dark. The agents had left the passenger seat to the captain, spending the entirety of the trip huddled in the cargo of Sheldon's truck. There were no windows or any other forms of visual stimulation to speak of, so the gentle hum of the engine had quickly lulled them both to sleep. They were still out cold by the time the truck arrived at the valley's drop-off point.

"Up and at 'em, kiddo!" Captain Cuttlefish shouted, giving Cole a hard thwack with his cane. Sunlight streamed in through the open cargo door, compounding Cole's discomfort. After receiving another smack to the head, he reluctantly sat up. Cole was never one to sleep in, but he today he wanted nothing more than to lay down and pass out for a few more minutes.

"We there?" Cole asked, forcing his eyes open. They were on some kind of dirt road in the middle of the woods. And not sea-level, normal woods, Cole realized. They were at a higher elevation, if the types of trees around him were any indication.

"Sheldon, my boy," the captain bellowed, ignoring Cole. "We'll need you again when we depart for Slimeskin Garrison. Thank you for coming at such an ungodly hour. You're a real soldier."

The weapons designer saluted. "Thank you, Cap'n! I'm just glad to have you back."

Marie got up behind Cole and collected their belongings, yawning all the while. The two agents groggily followed their leader up a winding path through the trees to a wide, concrete tunnel, a leftover piece of a long-lost civilization, no doubt. Something this large and out-of-the-way could not have been built by Inklings.

"Agent 2, take Cole to the workshop," the captain ordered. "Grab whatever you think you'll need, and make sure you pick up the big laser cutter. You'll be using the Stingray to cut through some walls. Meet me downstairs when you're ready."

"Yes, Captain," Marie replied, still visibly trying to shake off sleep.

The agents continued down the concrete tunnel until they reached a set of double doors. A small, black panel, like the one outside the shack, hung on the wall next to them, and Marie tapped an ID card to it. The double doors slid open, revealing a brightly-lit, blue-grey hallway.

So this was what the NSS headquarters looked like. While the shack had been a nice base of operations, Cole had figured that it was a tad too improvident for a proper information-gathering organization. It was more of a safe house, really. This place, on the other hand, really looked the part. It was big, clean, and professional. He actually could imagine Marie and the captain working here.

The first room on their left was the workshop. Like the equipment room back under the shack, it was full of desks, hanging tools, and wall-mounted weapons, but more of them. In the back, various heavy-duty machines sat dormant. There was no wardrobe in the workshop, but several cabinet workbenches filled up the space.

Marie lifted what Cole figured was the Stingray off of a workbench. It was hollow metal rod welded to a red handle. A black tube connected the device to a heavy-looking tank.

"Is that a vacuum cleaner?" Cole asked doubtfully. Whatever it was, it looked even more unwieldy than Nat's weapon of choice.

Marie chuckled and placed the rod and tank on the ground next to the door. "Quite the opposite, actually," she remarked. "It's a heavily modified pressure washer."

Cole walked over to the weapon racks and examined the guns on offer. There were far more options to pick from than at the shack, though the selection here was not quite as robust as at Sheldon's store. He grabbed a submachine gun for himself, a sniper rifle for Marie, and two smaller pistols.

Marie raised an eyebrow. "Really? Don't you want to try anything bigger?"

"No."

"There's an actual machine gun right there," she said, pointing to a silver, six-barreled monstrosity of a weapon. "And those Blasters combine grenade launchers with Octarian cannon tech. You'll never get your hands on one of those ever again."

Well, it wouldn't hurt to try something new, Cole thought to himself. Might as well indulge.

He deliberated for a moment before hefting the machine gun off the wall. The silver monstrosity's massive barrels looked like they could shoot down a plane—if the gun was any bigger, it would probably need to be mounted. A cylindrical box magazine fed a belt of rifle ammunition into the side of the gun, but Cole doubted that they would ever need that many rounds for anything. There looked to be hundreds and hundreds of bullets in there. The weapon also lacked Sheldon's characteristic insignia—if the lustrous, metallic finish didn't already give it away, this wasn't one of Sheldon's thoughtful and calculated designs. This thing was bulky, vulgar, and unyielding. This was the gun of a tyrant.

He wondered how Nat chose her tools, especially when it came to firearms. Why would she only use handguns if this place was so well stocked? Was it because she was short and couldn't physically carry larger guns? Or maybe she couldn't handle the recoil? Maybe, Cole supposed, Nat wanted to challenge herself. She was always one who aimed for perfection, and she never stopped at just good enough. Nat valued mastery. Mere completion was too narrow a goal for her, too short-term. She believed in mastering her tools rather than selecting the right ones, which Cole respected but could never agree with. Simple matters of practicality and logic never stopped her in her quest to become the best. Perhaps that was why Nat stuck to her guns, literally and figuratively. If Marie and Captain Cuttlefish were to be believed, then Nat's skills were already honed to a fine edge.

The agents lugged their equipment into an elevator, which took them down one level. When it opened, Cole found himself inside a dark conference room. Two of the walls had blank whiteboards on them, while a third wall featured hand-drawn diagrams, newspaper clippings, and photographs pinned to it. A large table took up the center of the room. Captain Cuttlefish sat at the head of the table, and he slid a manila file folder toward the agents as they approached.

"We've got a map of Slimeskin Garrison and some info on the place in there," the old man stated. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Marie opened the folder and pulled out the map. After examining it, she gave the captain a quizzical look. "The west end of town is wide-open to attack. Is that even right?"

"Yup," the old seaman said, meeting her steady gaze.

As Marie flipped through the rest of the folder, Cole took a look at the map. Slimeskin had three obvious entrances to the north, east, and south, but no roads from the west. Furthermore, the fort near the center of town had no western entrance. A single wall guarded the town against anything that might push in from the western front.

"Didn't you say the Octarians were supposed to be diligent and attentive?" asked Cole. "It looks like we can simply waltz right in here, cut a hole through the fort with our Stingray, and come out the other side. No one would see us."

The captain gave Cole a hearty nod. "My thoughts, exactly, kiddo. You're sharper than you look, for a dropout."

Cole gritted his teeth but said nothing. Nat must have told him about that.

Marie tapped Cole on the shoulder, bringing his attention to a personnel log. "The detail is similar to what we ran into yesterday," she surmised. "Think you can handle a Round Two?"

According to the log, the equipment and staffing of the central fort were similar to those of Beaker's Depot, minus the multiple floors and researchers. Hopefully, the information would be correct this time. They had survived storming Beaker's Depot with bad intel, so a second run against these sorts of Octarian guards shouldn't be too tough, Cole figured.

"Yeah," he responded, slapping his machine gun. "Our new friends should make things pretty easy."

"Good," the captain cut in. "Sheldon is waiting outside. I will stay here and contact you through your radios. Any last questions before you leave?"

Marie shook her head, and Cole did the same.

The captain gave them a double thumbs-up. "Now go get those Octojerks. I'm countin' on you buckos."

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