Work Text:
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.
The Researcher scrambles around the Research Outpost, scooping up papers as she rushes out to her boat. The ground lurches beneath her as something hits the outpost, cracking wood and cabinets falling over. A monitor crashes behind the Researcher as she heads out to her boat, rocking back and forth in the roiling waves; there was no more time to save her work. Her feet scramble for purchase as she climbs aboard, catching herself on a small crate she had tied to the center of the boat; the rescued papers are dropped onto the deck and the Researcher goes to work on departing as sharp, unnatural waves jostle her, threatening to throw her outwards to the calm midnight sea beyond the outpost. Out of the corner of her eye, the Researcher spots a tentacle swinging towards where the generator is.
Undo the knot, run to the steering wheel, start the engine, and go.
The ship darts away, leaving behind the Research Outpost and the writhing mass attacking it as there’s a screech from an antenna tearing from the roof of her lab. For just a moment, a tentacle swings out towards the ship, its reach just short of the small boat, before returning to go after one of the machines that was recording currents in the Stellar Basin.
The sounds of snapping, splintering wood and falling equipment carry along to the Researcher, though muffled by the sounds of roaring engines, creaking metal beneath her and heart beating in her ears. The little boat rolls with the waves; a loud smack against the water cracks the night air, hitting the Researcher as she tightens her grip and papers scatter across the deck and into the high, roiling waves. Blood pulses beneath her skin into taut fingers, fighting to release the iron grip on the wheel as the wave dies out.
All of my work, my research…
The Researcher takes a breath and steadies herself as the boat moves away to the edge of the basin, the glow of the life within faint. She risks a glance back towards the Research Outpost; the most she could make out was the entity and its flailing, the lights having gone out. She suppresses a shudder and presses on a bit farther, less thrashing, less light, before shutting off the engines. The ocean is only disrupted by the slight rocking of the Researcher’s boat as she digs out the map and lights a lamp she had left aboard back when she first docked at the Research Outpost earlier that evening.
She unfolds the map of the Stellar Basin with trembling hands, smoothing out the deep creases and racking her racing brain for where she could be and where she could go. It would take some time to get to the abandoned village, and the Traveling Merchant’s pontoon… it would go back by the Research Outpost, and whatever it was that was attacking could still be there. She then looks at one last location labeled on the map: the Old Fortress. She hasn’t been there in all her time in the Stellar Basin, despite being able to see its form from the outpost.
The Researcher looks out to the still, dark sea. Just beyond the edge of the warm light, something dark and long moves beneath the surface. Was that a tentacle?
She shakes her head and takes the oil lamp back to the wheel.
The boat starts its way towards the Old Fortress, the lamp the only thing standing between the researcher and the dark depths. The hours trudge on by at a glacial pace, the darkness clinging to the edge as the Researcher makes her way around the outside of the Stellar Basin. As the boat swings around the edge of the basin, a sudden wave rushes at the boat; the engine is immediately switched off and she dives for cover, hiding against the cool bottom for the source of the wave to pass. One, two, three moments pass before she sits back up and looks out at the ocean beyond. Nothing is out there in the ripples of the late night sea. Standing back up with a wobble, a jelly sensation seizes her as she rights herself. The engine is started back up, and she continues on.
As the sun starts to finally rise behind her, the Researcher can make out a dock near the base of the Old Fortress. Dawn breaks and she looks up at the looming shape of the Old Fortress, worn from storms and surrounding sea. Rougher waves lap up against the weathered rocks, reflecting the light of dawn in bright oranges and spraying sea water into the cool air. She turns the engine off as she nears the Fortress’ dock, tying the boat to one of the poles. The Researcher stills her trembling hands before reaching to the crate and opening it to see what was inside that could be usable: a few wrapped up test tubes, a stirring rod, a pair of binoculars, a few measuring tools, and some dried food that had just been packed after her last correspondence with the Northern Biological Research Society finally yielding parts for repairing some of the monitoring equipment that was starting to fail.
Equipment that was still at the presumably torn up Research Outpost, surely either soaked or broken beyond use.
The Researcher closes the crate and takes it and the papers she rescued onto the dock. Their weight is nothing in her arms compared to the cabinets filled with written down readings back at the outpost. Looking around nearby, there are a few storage buildings, tiny in comparison to the Old Fortress, with one shuttered closed.
I wonder if there is something useful there. Doubt there’ll be any chemicals I can test the water with, though.
She stretches and looks up at the Old Fortress. A breeze ruffles her hair and blows a few pages towards the fortress’ entrance.
Nowhere else to go but in.
She shoves her hands into her lab coat’s pockets, feeling the worn leather of her notebook and pencil nubs. Making her way to the Old Fortress, the walls loom above her as she heads past a forgotten turret and towards the doors; she picks up the papers and puts them in her pocket, sand coating her fingers. Some of the last bits of adrenaline from the previous night’s escape gave her the strength to force open the doors with a shriek from the corroded hinges giving way.
The early morning light from the great doorway is the only illumination on the first floor of the Old Fortress. A thick layer of dust has settled on anything left in here: some rope cast aside in a coiled heap, a chair and small table tucked in the back, and a broken lamp near stairs that went down into the hill the Old Fortress is on; salt mingles with the musty warmer air and darkness swallows the doorways that lead to some of the towers of this stone stronghold.
The Researcher looks around more and sees a different set of stairs that lead upward to the higher parts of the fortress. She climbs up them, hand against the damp stone wall to steady herself as she goes up and sees light cutting through the “windows” that were only up on the higher floor with motes of dust dancing between them.
The second floor in the central area is one large room with a longer table and a crate, pried open and empty, against the western wall; the wind has picked up a bit outside now, sharp as it blows through the gaps far above the Researcher’s head. Stairs lead up further to the roof outside, unobtrusive.
There would be more than enough room to store her things, though that isn’t saying much now. She could have more space for new equipment just on this floor and be better protected than in the Research Outpost; depending on the state of the rest of the Old Fortress, there would be so much room to build a lab-
Her thoughts come to a halt.
She’s assuming that she will stay.
All of my equipment is broken or in the ocean by now. Most of the work I did is still back at the Research Outpost.
I have nothing to show them that I should be able to continue my work here.
The Researcher looks up to the ceiling and the strips of early morning light. There’s no reason the Northern Biological Research Society would let her stay after such destruction; she barely has basic materials to her name, much less the few expensive pieces she had and had only just fixed. They may even use it as a reason against sending her out to the field again, especially if she described the creature that attacked the Research Outpost. She starts walking, taking stairs up once more, this time up to the rooftop.
It is a large, flat space on top of the Old Fortress with a view that seemed to stretch onward across the Stellar Basin and beyond, lit up by the rising sun.
…what could have created something like whatever it was that attacked the Research Outpost?
The Researcher looks in the direction of where the Research Outpost was located with the remains of her old work. None of the known species in the Stellar Basin are able to grow to that size. There could have been a change in the environment, or something could have been introduced from beyond the Stellar Basin. If she left, she would never find out why.
She would never make a name for herself.
Someone else would be sent in to do the work and take the credit while she was far, far away from the Stellar Basin and a potential discovery, one that could’ve been hers. She would be left to sink with her old work into the depths of the Stellar Basin.
The Researcher runs down the stairs, back to the boat. She has so much work to do: unpacking, organizing, planning. It may have been a horrible setback, but this was a new chance to prove herself, a clean slate.
The sun rises on the new day, and the Researcher begins a new project.