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It was late at night. Judging from the position of the moon, Frye would say it was just after midnight. Nonetheless, she was up and wandering. For some reason, one of her eels (Marcy, the smallest of the group) poked her awake, before resuming her position pushing the ship with Master Mega and the others.
Marcy was, notoriously, an eel who loved her sleep. For her to be up and awake at that time…
Well, it was a quiet night, so they weren’t under attack.
Frye groaned quietly, stretching her arms over her head and hopping out of her bed. Adorned in nothing but a sports bra and some bunny pajama pants, she decided to take a lap around the ship. Just to check on things. Duh. Not at all because she was worried about Marcy’s sleep schedule. Obviously.
Frye walked sluggishly up the spiral stairs and platforms of the hideout ship, providing an occasional yawn. Eventually, she came across a figure, sitting on the edge of the rooftop, looking at the sea and the stars. It was Veeka, the ship’s pilot / mechanic / treasure collector / octo who does everything. Really, where would Deep Cut be without them? Well, probably still stranded on the sea, but with far less treasure and a far shabbier hideout.
Frye squid jumped up to the roof, landing next to them.
“What are you doing up this late? I thought you were a heavy sleeper.”
“Yeah, but-“ She yawned. “But Marcy poked me awake. ‘N now I’m here.”
“You- Marcy?” Veeka looked at her inquisitively, with no recognition of the name.
“Yeah, Marcy! Y’know, one of my eels?”
“…your eels have names?”
“Of course they do! I’ve known ‘em for too long not to!” She leaned over the edge, pointing out each individual eel. “The little one’s Marcy, and and the one with the big eyes is Max, and Molly and Marshall look basically the same but Molly’s fins are a little sharper! Mina’s the super long one, and Mara’s the one who’s eyes are kinda far apart.” Frye grinned, taking pride in each of her eels. “Maverick just looks really normal.”
Veeka laughed softly. “That’s quite a bit of dedication.”
“Of course!! They’re my friends, after all!” Frye looked at them again, but the mechanic was already facing the horizon. “…Hey. What’re you up here for, anyways?”
“Oh…” Veeka’s expression suddenly saddened. “I’ve just… been thinking, is all.”
“Really? What about?”
“I think I’m gonna quit my job when we get home.” Veeka asked tentatively. “The GrizzCo one, I mean.”
“Really? Why?”
“It’s just… salmonids have all these relics. And I’ve been thinking about it. They have weapons and clothes and art and community. It makes me think… they’re not much different from us at all. The idea of profiting off of killing them, stealing their eggs, their children… It makes me sick.”
“Huh?? But- they try and kill us like every day!!”
“Have you seen their eyes, Frye? Up close?”
“…” Frye remained silent. She’d been in close contact, sure, but the bot didn’t provide too much visibility, especially for things like this.
“They’re totally vacant. Like there’s not any free will or agency going on. Just… attack mode. All the time. I know the briny scrolls about it said that the proximity to that big gold power egg makes them stronger, but what if it’s something else? Maybe their strength comes at the price of free will?” Veeka theorized, recalling days long ago of hypnoshades and kelp in their hair and a heavenly melody. “I know what it’s like. To be under control, to hurt people because of it.”
Frye, seeing the look on Veeka’s face, almost pained, felt a small pit in her stomach. “But that’s… that’s different!!”
“Is it?” Veeka looked at Frye. “It doesn’t feel different at all. The salmonids… they probably have friends. Families. What are we doing, Frye? Just… rampaging in, killing and stealing?”
Frye had originally disagreed. But…
‘They probably have families.’
If someone came to Frye’s hometown and killed everyone just to get their treasures…
She’d bring hell upon them.
Had they been doing that this whole time? This whole time, they’d been so focused on saving Splatsville from debt, none of them had considered…
…that what they were doing was wrong. Seriously wrong.
“Oh,” Frye offered dumbly, with not much else to say.
“Yeah,” Veeka agreed soberly.
“Do you wanna… stop doing raids?” The inkling asked.
Veeka seemed to think for a moment, turning the notion over like a stone in their palm. Eventually, they settled on, “No. I really hate it, but… we have to get to that golden egg. We can free the salmonids if we destroy it. Sell whatever undoubtedly high-worth scraps we get too.” They sighed. “I do wanna minimize the violence I use to get there, though. I wanna hope for a better future where inklings, octolings, and salmonids can live in harmony. That can’t happen if I carry out a genocide.”
“…yeah. That’s a good plan. We can always count on you to make the good ideas! That’s our mechanic!” She lightly punched them in the shoulder, attempting to lighten the mood. From the smile that broke across Veeka’s face, Frye would consider that mission accomplished.
“It’s late out,” Veeka stood up, “so let’s head back to bed, yeah?”
As they pulled her up, Frye smiled. “Sounds good! See you in the morning, mechanic!”
“See you,” Veeka smiled.