“We were up before dawn,” Louis began. “The ship was still and quiet, everyone else fast asleep. The only other soul awake besides my crew and me was Gunther, who was up early and busy preparing our breakfast. We all met in the mess hall—”

The transmission abruptly cut off.  A disgruntled chorus of squeaks followed, as a rat tripped over a tangled cluster of wires, yanking several free from the green box in its panic. Flynn let out a weary sigh, crouched down, and gently untangled the wires from the rat’s foot and tail before returning to his task of reconnecting them.

As Flynn worked, my mind wandered back to that morning when Louis's crew departed. Louis had risen early, kissed his wife goodbye, and paused by his children’s rooms to watch them sleep. In the mess hall, Gunther had laid out a humble breakfast—grilled mackerel, hardtack, and mugs of steaming water. Under the table, I waited for scraps to fall, perhaps a piece of fish, a crumb of cracker for me to nibble on. Above me, Louis was a bundle of nerves. He sat jittery, his leg bouncing in nervous anticipation, while his crew was calm, joking and laughing over their meal.

It was odd, now that I thought about it. Why had he been so nervous? I didn’t understand it then. Louis had led expeditions time and again, and they almost always ended the same—with him and his crew returning, triumphant and burdened with spoils from the old world, essential for life aboard our ship.  

But that morning, something was different. He sat hunched over his mug, lost in thought, his leg bouncing nervously, his body tensed up as if he were bracing for a coming storm. I hadn’t dwelled on it then. My attention was elsewhere. Quintin had dropped a flake of mackerel, and I scrambled to claim it, leaving all other curiosities behind.  

Louis was the first to push back from the table, his meal barely touched. I climbed onto the table as soon as he stood, my eyes wide and pleading. I leapt onto the table, looking up at him, pleading silently for his leftovers. He offered a brief scratch behind my ears before nodding to the others.

The fish was mine, and I ate as though it was my last meal. Food was precious, a sacred thing, and I couldn’t let it go to waste. 

What else happened that day? I couldn’t recall. All I remembered was curling up in my basket in Alan’s quarters, my belly warm and full. 

EEEE–YEE OOOOOOO WWW!

A sharp, grating scream that made my fur stand on end. I buried my head beneath my paws, pressing hard against my ears to block it out. Around me, the other rats scattered in panic, retreating from the green box. Some darted through the floorboard opening.

Flynn stumbled backward, his face pale, one hand clutching his chest as though the noise had struck him like a physical blow. “Sorry about that,” he wheezed, his voice shaky. “It should be working now.”

The box hissed and crackled, then steadied. Louis’s voice broke through, sharp and clear.

“–thought it was a whale,” he said. “But as we got closer, it became clear that it wasn’t. This thing was faster than a whale, and it circled the boat like it was hunting us. The waves it created were enormous, crashing against us as if trying to tip us over. Then it surfaced. We were right on top of it—a thing as massive as a sandy island. And that’s when we realized that it was no creature… It was like a ship, an underwater ship. And then they appeared.”

“Do you mean the sea humanoids?” a Councilor interjected.

“There were three of them. One came straight for us, holding some kind of weapon.”

“And then?”

Louis hesitated. “... I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Yeah, nothing much after that. It all blurred into a waking nightmare. Sometimes I’d wake to blinding white lights, and then the pain would start. So much pain. I could feel them cutting me open; my whole body felt like it was on fire. I didn’t know what they were trying to do—or why they were doing it. After that, everything faded in and out.

“The next time I woke up, I was in some kind of tank. The liquid inside was amber-colored, thick, and suffocating. I couldn’t move—couldn’t even breathe on my own. There was a tube in my throat doing it for me. Then suddenly, the tank opened, and I fell out. I hit the floor, completely naked and covered in thick, slimy goo.”

“What about your crew? Were they with you?”

“They were in separate tanks. I couldn’t get them out. I couldn’t figure out how to release them. Then I noticed an empty tank. Whoever had been in it was already gone. Before I could piece it together, the doors slid open, and one of the sea humanoids entered. Right behind him was Quintin, still dressed in his own clothes.”

“Quintin?”

“My trusted crew officer.” 

“So, he was with them?”

“Yes, and not as a prisoner. He walked in like he belonged there, like he knew them. I could see it in the way he spoke to them.”

“They speak our language?”

“They do. They must have been studying us for a long time—probably since even before the Great Wrath.”

I tilted my head, my ears twitching with doubt. Quintin? With the sea humanoids? No, something didn’t add up. Louis’s story felt off—like pieces of a puzzle forced together in haste. His words twisted through my mind, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding something back.

“Mr. Kelping,” the Councilor said, “do you believe Quintin was working for these beings? Do they pose a threat to us?”

“A threat?” Louis repeated. “I… suppose any species more advanced than us might seem threatening.”

“But are they?”

“Well… they could be an enemy,” he said, pausing briefly before adding, “or a potential ally. A friend, even.”

“After everything they did to you? What makes you think they won’t do worse to us?”

“They will.”

“Then they are a threat!”

“They’re not.”

“Mr. Kelping, enough ambiguity. Give us a straight answer!”

“Indeed!” Another Councilor interjected, their frustration boiling over. “Stop dodging our questions!”

“What they did wasn’t torture,” said Louis. “It was… treatment. They gave me nutrients my body was starving for. I felt stronger. Better.”

“And you think they have good intentions?”

“I think that we shouldn’t fear them.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Louis said, gravely, “look at what we’ve become. The Great Wrath has left us with nothing. No medicine, no resources—just the waste of a world we destroyed. Maybe these beings… maybe they’re here to help us.”