Chapter 3 #2
Jax stopped before the entrance door and pressed the buttons on the keypad beside it. Every kraken was taught the sequence from a young age, though the meaning of the symbols on the buttons had been lost to history. The light over the door changed from red to green, and it slid open.
He swam into the dim entry chamber and pressed the interior button. The door closed behind him, and the water drained from the room.
“Pressurization normalized,” the Computer said; this gentle, female voice was only one of the many it used.
The inside door hissed and opened. Pure, white light filled the hallway ahead. Jax took hold of the grip over the doorway and swung himself through. Water streamed off him as he moved down the hall, flowing into the drain channels on either side.
As infrequently as he visited since achieving adulthood, Jax knew this place well from his youth. Kraken younglings learned much in these hallways and chambers — from their elders, from the Computer, and from the ghosts.
He moved at a quick pace, pulling himself forward with arms and tentacles, and soon entered the largest — and strangest — room in this building.
The scent of old chemicals lingered in the Pool Room’s humid air, fouling each breath.
Large metal lockers lined one wall, and various equipment Jax could not identify was scattered throughout the space.
Some of it looked like the clothing humans wore.
In the center of the room was a huge pool of water.
Jax moved to one of the floor hatches and tugged it open, lowering himself into the hallway below. Huge, clear windows ran along the entire inside wall, allowing an unhindered view of the pool.
Arkon was in the water, floating above his latest work. Thousands of stones were spread on the floor beneath him, carefully arranged by color to create intricate, flowing patterns. He reached down with the tip of a tentacle to adjust some of the stones.
Reaching forward, Jax tapped his knuckles on the glass. Arkon turned in a torrent of bubbles, skin flaring yellow before shifting back to its normal blue-gray. He smiled and signed that he would come up.
Jax climbed the ladder, emerging from the lower chamber just as Arkon drew himself out of the pool.
“You must be nearly done,” Jax said.
Arkon dropped his bag on the floor; the stones inside clacked together. “I have almost finished the base layer, but it will take many more days to achieve balance in the patterns.”
When they were younglings, Arkon had been fascinated by the human ghosts in the facility and had spent long hours listening to them and speaking with the Computer. He knew words the others did not understand; did he know what a gardener was?
Jax moved to the edge of the pool and looked down.
Arkon’s work was distorted by the reflection of the overhead light on the water’s surface, but the overall design was clear.
The large, central circle was surrounded by rings of varying size, all of which were connected by swirling patterns that reminded Jax of water current.
The shifts in color from one portion to the next were subtle but unmistakable.
He’d watched Arkon work for long enough to know that each stone had been placed with purpose, following instructions only Arkon could see.
Jax was a hunter, a warrior, a restless explorer, but he envied Arkon’s skill. The others called it useless, but wasn’t there something to be said for a pleasing image? Wasn’t there some value in something that could instill feeling in a single glance, even if that feeling was fleeting?
“I do not have the words to describe it, Arkon.”
“Incomplete. Unsatisfactory. Ordinary.” Arkon blew mist from his siphons. “Uninspired. It is missing something.”
Tilting his head, Jax swept his eyes over Arkon’s work. Even with the individual stones blurred by the water, the intricacy and detail were apparent. Arkon had never crafted anything on such a scale, and it was, in Jax’s opinion, his most impressive work yet.
“It needs…heart,” Jax said. “Something in the center, to give it life.”
Arkon leaned forward and peered into the pool. His skin shifted toward blue. “Yes. A centerpiece. Something…of a different shade than all the rest. I wish you would stay for longer periods. Things are easier when you are here.”
“I’m leaving again.”
“I know.” Arkon moved to his bag, hunched down, and rummaged through its contents.
“You know?”
“You always go, Jax the Wanderer. It is your nature. How far will you trek this time?”
“Not far. A few days, perhaps.”
Lifting a smooth stone from the bag, Arkon held it in his palm and turned it, examining it briefly before he replaced it. “Good. Dracchus will likely call a hunt soon, and, though he despises you, he is displeased when you are not here to join.”
“To the abyss with Dracchus.”
Arkon lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug without ceasing his search. “You know how the rest are. They respect your prowess, though they distrust you because you are so often away. As strange as they think me, they at least always know where I am.”
“If we wish to survive as a people, we will need to leave this place one day. Where will we go if someone like me does not find another place for us to dwell? I endanger only myself.” Even as he spoke the words, Jax knew they were what Arkon would call a half-truth.
Such selfless reasons for Jax’s treks were hollow justification.
At heart, he could not deny the call to wander; it was in his blood.
Staying too long in any single place made him restless and fouled his mood.
He needed open water, needed the thrill of the unknown, needed to be away from the pointless posturing of the other kraken.
How would he react to the news that Jax had captured a human, and was keeping her as his own? If Jax had hundreds of questions for her, Arkon would have thousands.
“Vanishing every few days will not convince them of that, Jax. You’ve known this for a long while.”
“I am not interested in convincing them of anything. The others can think for themselves and decide what they will. I’ll continue to hunt for our food and scout new areas, regardless.”
Arkon closed his bag and rose. “I know what I need!”
“What?”
“If you come across a shard of halorium — the glowing stones the ancients used to harvest — would you bring it to me?” He returned to the edge of the pool and stared over his work. “It would serve as the perfect heart for this piece.”
“Those stones do strange things to the Facility,” Jax said. In the presence of halorium, lights flickered, the ghosts were broken and distorted, and the Computer’s voice was crackly and faint. Larger stones produced more powerful effects.
“There are still containers for them, in the Underneath. That will allow you to bring one inside without causing issues.”
“But once it is removed from the container—”
“Make it a small one, then. The pool is isolated enough that a small shard shouldn’t adversely affect the functions of the nearby equipment.”
Jax could only stare at his friend; Arkon’s skin pulsed with his excitement, and his eyes were bright, viewing possibilities no one else could see.
“I will watch for one,” Jax finally said.
“Thank you. May the currents carry you where you would go, Jax.”
“And may the stones fall as you would have them lie, Arkon.”
As Arkon plucked up his bag and plunged back into the pool, Jax exited the chamber and made his way back to the entry doors. He entered the sequence.
“Please wait while the chamber is prepared,” the computer said.
The floor hummed as unseen machines did their work. Jax inhaled deeply; it was a short wait, but that made it no more bearable. This was the last barrier between him and the sea. The door finally opened, and he entered the small chamber; another push of a button, and the room flooded.
When he emerged, his attention was drawn immediately to the kraken gathered near the detached lights ahead. A small group ringed a pair of males who were locked in a dance.
The larger of the two was Dracchus; his skin pulsated from black to red as he moved, powerful tentacles spinning through the water in a blur.
The motion created new patterns, blurs of brightness and splashes of color that whirred by with increasing speed, complexity, and ferocity.
The other male struggled to keep up, but he could not match Dracchus’s power and aggression.
Their dance descended into chaos as the two suddenly charged one another. The eruption of thrashing tentacles was too frantic for Jax to track, but the males separated almost as quickly as they’d attacked. The challenger slunk backward, skin pale in admission of his defeat.
Jax swam forward. Such spectacles were popular for onlookers, but held no true meaning. Dracchus was strong — everyone knew it, and required no further proof.
As he passed the gathering, Dracchus — his skin reverted to its normal black — caught Jax’s gaze and held it. Crimson flared on Dracchus’s shoulders; a challenge.
Jax held Dracchus’s eyes for a few more heartbeats and turned away, not slowing his pace. Something far more important — and more interesting — waited for him elsewhere.