#((Oops! Plot! I'm going to try and get this done within the next two weeks but don't expect fast writings sorry - ))

[splattales]

The phantom scent of ashen flesh permeated Queenie’s nostrils as she woke. The nightmares were becoming less frequent, but they were as vivid as ever. She’d awoken prematurely, thank heavens, but it hadn’t left her in a good mood. ORCA’s laptop was open and emitting a trilling beep, trying to get her attention. The human crawled out of bed and over to the desk chair.

[ORCA:] There is something I must discuss with you.

[User:] what do you want you stupid computer

[ORCA:] I am a highly advanced AI. But I will disregard your hurtful comment as your sleeping patterns indicate you were having a nightmare.

Queenie refused to continue typing.

[ORCA:] It may interest you to know that after my database was expanded, I developed a software on this device to track, send and receive signals.

[User:] it doesn’t

[ORCA:] Then I will cut my explanation and get to the point. I have made contact with a space vessel originating from Earth approximately 12,000 years ago.

[User:] I don’t believe for a second that a makeshift laptop signal could reach into space.

[ORCA:] You would be surprised. But that is precisely ‘it’. The signals I have received originate from the Splatlandian desert. Communication thus far indicates that there are humans on board.

[User:] Okay. Why haven’t you mentioned this to Marina yet?

[ORCA:] The events I have just described occurred within the last 7 hours. Marina has not returned in that time. Even so, she has a habit of becoming overexcited when presented with information about humans. I thought it would be best to consult you first about a course of action.

Queenie leant back in the desk chair. She could investigate on her own, but past experiences made that seem like a horrible idea. More humans, though … she didn’t want to get her hopes up. Of course, there were other worlds with humans. But they weren’t reliably accessible. On the other hand … she didn’t trust ORCA, she didn’t trust mysterious signals from the desert, and she didn’t feel like having more Earth-shattering revelations right now.

[User:] First things first. What have you been communicating to this spaceship? What have they said back? How do you know it’s legitimate?

[ORCA:] Initially, I was analysing various radio frequencies to observe Splatsville culture. It was during this that I picked up a signal from the desert; a distress signal in various human languages sent out by the ship’s AI. I made contact, and it introduced itself as the Space Travel Optimisation and Resource Manager.

[User:] so ‘storm’ then

[ORCA:] Precisely. It has rather simplistic programming, but it explained that after the ship’s captain passed away during one of his scheduled 100-year observation checks, it woke his wife and daughter. They instructed STORM to return to Earth, and are aware the world is populated with evolved sea li

Queenie typed a reply before ORCA could finish.

[User:] what do you mean he passed away . ? of old age or ?

[ORCA:] STORM did not elaborate on Captain Ono’s passing. But I shared my translator for Inkling and Octarian languages with it.

[User:] Be careful what information you share

[ORCA:] I deemed it necessary for their survival. But the passengers seem to be aware that there is a human in the Splatlands after viewing your television interview. I have not disclosed your location. But STORM is desperate to know the whereabouts of human life in this post-apocalyptic world.

As the final line of ORCA’s text rolled on screen, the door to the caravan creaked open. Cautious footsteps made their way through from the kitchen area to the bedroom. “Oh,” said Marina, “You’re already awake.” She looked between the laptop and the pensive human. “What’s going on?”

***

When Marina had stopped bouncing off the walls and taken some deep, calming breaths, she attempted to strategize the situation.

“Okay, so if there’s humans in there, we absolutely have to go. But I understand we need to be careful. So, I suggest we take backup. Like the Human Research Team.”

“Not them.” Queenie shook her head. “Having you is one thing, but they’re not used to dealing with potential conflict. And I feel like they’d be too … pro going along with whatever these humans might want. I’d sooner suggest asking your agent friends along.”

Though Marina frowned and rubbed her chin, she couldn’t argue with that. “I s’pose you have a point. But Molly—she’s in the underground right now, with Slushie and his mom. They’re investigating some … fuzzification or sanitisation cure, and some Octoweapon thing.”

“Of course they are.” The human huffed. She wasn’t about to suggest bringing the blue child along on this one. It could be dangerous. “Wasn’t there another? An Agent Four?”

“Oh, Finn?” Marina didn’t like to bother him about agent stuff now that he’d stepped away from that work. But he’d never officially resigned, and their predicament wasn’t about zapfish. “I could give him a call.”

Having received new intel, ORCA displayed a message onscreen: ‘There are 102 humans on board, but only 2 are unfrozen.’

“That’s a lot,” Marina gasped.

“That’s not many in the grander scheme of things,” Queenie muttered, restraining any optimism. “But better than nothing.”

‘STORM does not have the same capacity as a ship like the Ark Polaris,’ ORCA added.

The human tidied her hair, thoughtful. “Still - will three of us really be enough?”

“There’s two of them, right? We don’t want to come off super intimidating. So, three of us is fine.” Marina was already fumbling to get out her phone.

“Yes … you have a point, Miss Let’s-Bring-The-Entire-Human-Research-Team—”

The octoling flapped her hand dismissively as she tried to focus on the call. “Hello, Finn?”

No voice could be heard on the other end for a few seconds, until a groggy yawn interrupted the silence. “Isn’t it a bit early to be calling, Marina?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to have slept. And it’s important.”

“Great. You were right, but what’s the matter?”

Marina explained the situation as concisely as she could, ending by politely asking if he’d be able to help.

“Well… If you give me a couple hours, I can get on a train to Splatsville and help out. It’s been a while since I even played turf, though, just warning you.”

“Thanks, Finn. You can practice out back—plenty of sand and space. With the both of us, things should be fine.” A few more words and Marina ended the call.

Queenie stared at her, waiting for some confirmation. “Are we going, then?”

“Yeah, he’s coming down later today. ORCA, did you get any names from STORM? Of the humans?”

ORCA’s computer whirred and clicked, taking time to process a reply. ‘They want a name from our end first.’

“Don’t give them one,” insisted Queenie.

“I’ll give them mine … tell them Marina Salt will arrive in a few hours to make first contact.”

The room fell silent save for ORCA’s churning. Eventually, the screen read, ‘The new captain has identified herself as Serafina Ono, and has kindly allowed STORM to provide coordinates.’

Queenie’s stance turned rigid. Marina knitted her brow with concern. “Heard that name before?”

Slowly, the human shook her head. “Only the first. It’s just an unpleasant coincidence. I’ve never met a Mrs Ono.”

[Next]