by Kell Inkston
Colette scoffs, a smirk across her face. “Please: your favorite color’s gray, and you actually like bugs. The other one’s a good actor, but it couldn’t know that.”
Grancis grins. “Yeah, that settles it.” With that, Grancis steps out and locks the door behind her.
A Considerable Escalation of the Progressing Conflict Takes Place, This Time from the Point of View of Someone Who May or May Not be Jobber Colette
The dark, soul-eating coldness around the ship has only increased and the Second Colette feels it all the more with her multitude of wounds. It’s a humorous stroke of luck, then, that she had saved The Captain’s Bandages from the Mist Gauntlet ordeal in her coat. Behind the deck, she sees something alarming. The Captain’s clothes, with a glint sticking out. She reaches down and inspects it, it’s the master key!
Sure enough, the legendary master key, glistening silver and asking for ownership; Colette could simply bust into any room she pleases, complete access to all the Nocturna’s secrets—she’s not ready, though she thinks she is. Colette wraps her fingers around the key with great purpose, and decides precisely what she’ll do; but before she does, she spots a bit of bandage still on The Captain’s clothing. There’s some writing on it, but she can’t quite make it out. She holds it up to one of the deck lights after checking to make sure no one’s watching. Hastily inked in with a pen, are the words “A TRUE CAPTAIN NEVER APPEARS OUT OF UNIFORM.” Colette raises a brow and looks over to the waves. The Captain’s hat is floating just on the edge of the deck light’s rays. She shrugs, takes up his jacket to warm her and turns to begin her plan. The Captain’s a weird dude, but she knows he’s fine.
At the back of the deck, Colette finds the door to the lower decks and unlocks it.
Before her is the majesty and mystery of the lower decks, its dreary lighting taking up only when she opens the door. The bulbs light in sequence, slowly unfolding the deep hall to display all its secrets, just waiting to be taken. Though the situation is dire, Colette is certain there must be some way to victory below. There must be something she can use. If not, it will at least be a perfect hiding place. Colette steps in, closing the door behind her.
The dreary sepia seems to shift about in the lower decks, as if the color itself is moving. She’s certain that whatever’s down here is definitely worth hiding. “Captain, you dog,” she says to herself, passing sets of doors that she cares not to count. She passes on another group of doors, but just as she does, a voice emerges.
“Ahh, Colette, is that you?” A voice comes out, gravelly, refined, withheld.
“C-Captain?!” Colette turns for the door, its port-hole misted. She can’t quite see what’s on the other side… but it shape makes her… nervous. It’s relatively the same size as The Captain, but there’s something about it that feels like a mockery, like using a cardboard cutout to cast a realistic shadow.
“Yes, it’s me—I do say, it appears as though I’ve locked myself into this horrid room. It only opens from the outside, you see, unless you have a key. Would you be so kind as to just turn that latch for me?”
Colette raises a brow at the voice that sounds so much like The Captain’s, but something’s strange, the figure through the port hole looks… wrong, somehow—like the painting of an amateur. “I’m not sure on that one, Salt,” she says.
“Oh, but Colette, there’s simply no reason not to reach out and turn the knob! You’d be releasing your beloved, intelligent, witty Captain that’s actually a horrible monster that imprisons the innocent on a regular basis. Of course, I’d never do that to you, Colette. You’re my finest apprentice!”
Colette turns away from the door. “Good night,” she says, sparing not another glance at the disturbingly “almost” figure in the porthole.
“You’ll regret this, Colette. C-crack!” The mysterious person says, attempting to emulate the cracking of The Captain’s knuckles with its voice. Colette continues down the hall, seeing that all the doors are closed, save the one at the end of the hallway. The door opens by itself. She pauses a moment, and then steps up to the open door to peer inside.
“Hello there,” a voice says from below. This is not anywhere near The Captain’s voice, it is almost friendly.
“Hi,” Colette says.
“Who might you be?” The disarming, though full voice says.
“Who’s askin’?”
“A friend. Though I doubt you’d see me as such if you were to come in here.”
Colette draws back. “Um. Okay.”
“I’ve watched your exploits, you’re making quite a name for yourself.”
“I thought you were asking who I was.”
The voice squeals in otherworldly laughter. “Oh, my bad. I actually already knew who you were, I just felt like an introduction was the polite thing to do.”
“Okay, then who am I?” Colette asks, wearily staring down into the blackness: she can just barely see something writing down there… but she can’t quite comprehend it. As curious as she is, there’s such a massive foreboding to the idea alone of going in that room to turn on the lights, she really doesn’t want to know. For once, her curiosity is overcome by her sense of dread.
Whatever is in there is something that every part of her is repulsed by, as if it were some deeply-seated, naturally ingrained dislike. It’s almost as if her body’s genetics remember what it is, or what it feels like to her, but after generations upon generations, the knowledge of it to humans has gone away.
“Colette Ketiere. The Captain’s apprentice,” it says.
She freezes. “But we’ve never met.”
“Oh, no we haven’t. But I have been watching you. You’re a fantastic shot, you know.”
“How were you watching me?” She tenses, and reflexively reaches for her gun, only to remember that it’s not there.
The voice scoffs. “Well, I can see, eh, more like feel everything going on in the ship. So this is actually the first time I can see you with my eyes.”
“Alright then,” Colette says, already quite tired with this profoundly-creepy character. “Who are you?”
There’s a faint gurgling sound coming from the darkness. “Well, I’m glad you care! I’m Kotherrhre, the propulsion system!” Kotherrhre says with some form of glee, sounding more like roaring to Colette.
“Wh-w… Okay. So you like, propel the ship?” A terrified Colette asks, now seriously considering going back to the surface and just going to find someone to wake up.
“That’s right!”
“How do you do that?”
“With my limbs, visible and otherwise!”
Colette stares on, trying her best to imagine what twisted abomination she’s talking to. “Great… Look, I’d love to talk bu-”
“Oh, I know. You’re quite busy with the eldritch parasite and poor little Grancis, just doing her best.”
Colette’s gaze widens. “You know about that?!”
“I already told you I can feel everything going on in or around the ship—when The Captain charts a course, I feel where he’s going, when he turns to move the ship, I respond. It’s quite a fun job, though I’m technically a slave. Could be worse I guess.”
“A slave… It could be worse for you though?” She asks.
It chuckles. “Oh, sweetie, from where I’m from, it can always be worse.”
“I’m sure. Now maybe could you… I dunno, help me with this?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, if you know it’s me after all.”
The entire darkness of the room fills with screaming laugher. “No can do, sweetgums, sorry! I’ve been expressly ordered not to mettle in non-sailing, non-Captainly affairs. I can tell you right now The Captain is having a fantastic night in comparison to what you’re going through, though!”
“Yeah? Where’s he?”
“Underwater,” Kotherrhre says plainly.
An eldritch chill runs down her spine. “But he’s alive?”
“Oh, of course he’s alive! He’s
The Captain! He’s probably the scariest thing in the drink right now!”
Colette decides to ignore that last, rather foreboding comment. “Well… good,” Colette turns to leave, “Thanks for nothing, I guess.”
“Ahh, come on! I’m helpful. Okay, ready? The parasite copies not only Grancis’ memories of you, but her subconscious expectations. That said, it’s a copy better than the real thing to your friend. Very few people can see through the guise, so you’ll need to persuade her some other way, perhaps.”
Colette hums. “Yeah, okay, tha-”
“And another thing: hide.”
Colette squints. “What?”
“Hide; Your executioner’s coming!”
Colette stumbles about as she peers across the hall to see the entry latch turning. “Hide where?!”
“In here, with me!”
“No way!”
Kotherrhre gurgles pitifully. “Oh, well fine, in here, then,” it says, opening a door labeled “shipping records” to her side. Colette jumps in and it closes silently behind her just as Grancis opens the heavy latch and points her gun downward. Colette finds herself in a room of shelves, all stuffed with books. Getting to a hidden spot, she listens for movement. A moment passes that eases her into a sense of safety and then takes up a book to inspect it.
“Huh,” she mutters to herself as she reads the title, “Ledger? For what?” It’s marked by the year as well, using O.E.L. time. Colette opens the ledger to a random page and looks in. Within are names upon names that she doesn’t recognize. She closes the book and picks out one she recognizes, this year’s. Uncertain, she searches for her own name. Musingly, she flips through the thick book containing the A-C souls. She doesn’t find herself, but she does realize that the names are sorted by the last name. So she replaces the A-C volume for this year, and takes up the J-N volume. She flips through a bit more looking for her name, but is interrupted. She hears a sound in the hallway- the turning of a knob. Initially Colette smirks, realizing her hunter has not picked up the sound of her going into the ledger room, but if it’s the eldritch coming for her, it’d be sharper. Colette hears a scream: it’s Grancis.
Colette bursts from the room and looks down the hall, Grancis was foolish enough to open that door for the whatever on the other side. Paper-white hands pull a screaming Grancis in, all six of her shots doing nothing to whatever is taking her. Colette rushes forward.
“FINALLY!” the voice, now quite less Captainly, and much more evil, exclaims in victory. “NOW, AFTER I’VE GROWN FULL ON YOUR BLOOD, I WILL GROW EVER FULLER AS I TAKE MY VENGEANCE ON THE CREW AND THAT ACCURSED CAPTAIN! I HAVE UNTIL HE FINDS ME, AND I WILL MAKE SURE THAT MY FEW MOMENTS WILL BE SPENT CHEWING, TEARING, AND FEASTING! I DON’T CARE WHAT HE’LL DO TO ME! NOW TELL ME, ARE YOU SCARED?” The voice’s owner screams on and on, enjoying every moment of control it has over Grancis, who’s screaming incomprehensibly. Colette gets to the side of the door, just out of their sight and thinks it over.
She is wearing The Captain’s jacket… and she does have a fully bandaged hand. She takes a deep breath; it’s a huge stretch, but it’s all she’s got. She eases her bandaged hand past the edge of the door and takes a deep breath. “Well,” she coos in a Captainly tone.
The owner of the voice, and the sounds of struggle instantly cease. Whatever it is, it gasps in blood-curdling terror. “I… H-hello, Captain!”
“Did you really think I’d simply send someone down here for you to play with? Release her!”
The unknown something growls. “Or what?!”
“Or I’ll be very angry- do you remember what happened the… last time I was angry?” Colette says, pulling words out as she goes along.
“… P-please? Can’t I just, I don’t know… take the left side of her brain? Humans don’t need both!”
“No, you may not harm even a hair on Miss Vereyrty’s head.”
The something sighs. “As you wish… Captain,” the beast says. Colette hears a shocked Grancis run out from the room and shut the door behind her, locking it back.
Grancis takes a breath and looks over her savior. Her face of horror melts into one of confusion. “Co-wh… Hold it!” Grancis snaps up her gun and takes aim. Colette just crosses her arms. “Okay, eldritch! Now I have you!” Grancis exclaims.
Colette shrugs. It’s not like she has anywhere to run in time. “Okay, Gran, shoot me.”
“Huh?” The voice from behind the door mutters.
*click* Grancis draws back in disbelief. “Empty?!”
“You shot all six bullets, dumbass- now do you believe it’s me?” Colette asks with an intense expression mixed with a self-assured smirk.
The voice behind the door screams in rage. “You’re not The Captain! I’ll get my reven-” the owner begins bashing on the door helplessly as the two ladies ignore it.
Grancis huffs. “No! You were just doing that to trick me! No, so you could eat my soul instead!”
“I swear, Gran, what’s it going to take?”
“I-I… Nothing!” Grancis says, slowly reloading her pistol amidst her tremors.
“Oh yeah?” Colette’s expression becomes indignant.
Grancis finishes reloading a single shot. “Yeah!”
“Fine!” Colette spreads her arms and stands still—a determined gaze pointed at Grancis.
“Shoot that traitorous bitch!” The voice from behind the door commands Grancis, again promptly ignored by both of them.
Grancis points the gun right at Colette, and they both pause—they look into each other’s eyes. The sounds of machinery below, provide the backdrop for their silence, and Grancis lowers the revolver.
“Please,” she says. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”
Colette sighs in relief. “I knew it, not even you’re that stupid. There’d be nothing the eldritch could gain by allowing you to kill it, huh?”
Grancis looks to the side, “I suppose—but how could I possibly believe you’re the real one, and not the fake? The other Colette knows everything about me.”
Colette scoffs in response as she continues to stand ready for movement. “You kidding me? Your favorite color’s… like… grey, right? You also love bugs—I never did get that about you.” Grancis’ expression is confused as she attempts to parse some meaning out of how both Colettes know her, but this one’s recollection is fuzzy. She turns away and starts down the hall. “Uh, Gran?” Colette asks. “You believe me, right?” She tenses as Grancis gains distance between the two of them—if she turned and started shooting in this hallway, Colette would be forced to choose a door, and if it were a locked one- she’s unsure she’d have time to move. “Gran? Response, please?”
“I need-” Grancis takes a breath, “I need a moment…. Look, just go. I’ll decide soon enough,” Grancis says, gesturing with her gun hand for Colette to go past her through the hall and leave.
Colette takes a breath and starts past Grancis. “A-alright then. Just don’t decide to shoot me, aight? Also, you have bad taste in doors—work on that.”
“You have terrible taste in doors!” The owner of the voice behind the door screams again and enters another vicious fury against its prison door.
Colette passes by and up the steps, out from the lower deck to the outside. She steps out, closes the door, and just as she does, a large phial is slung down from the second floor. Colette catches the glint just in time and leaps out of the way. The phial strikes the ground and breaks, igniting into a chemical fire. Colette looks up to see her assailant, but they’re already gone. Her gaze narrows—the other Colette is taking matters into her own hands.
She’ll need help.
The second Colette inches across the chemical fire just in case the other Colette was trying to herd her somewhere, and then turning the corner, wonders who she should wake up.
Dunklestein would be a strong pick, and with his nose he’d likely know it’s her—but that’d risk awakening the whole crew. If even one person disagreed it could become a huge fi
ght—no , it’s better to choose someone that’s not sleeping in the main cabin. Her expression sours, there’s only one person she knows she can turn to. Maybe-Colette approaches the kitchen and enters without knocking. Before her is the titanic lobster chef, the one we all love, Boris. He’s gurgling out bubbles in his sleep, leaving an overwhelming pile of salty saliva on the metal kitchen floor, Colette winces, and whispers.
“Yo, Boris!”
Nothing.
Colette sighs, nods to herself as if she were expecting this kind of outcome, and starts stepping through the saliva. She gets up to Boris, and whispers again. “Boris!”
Nothing.
Colette delivers a sharp kick into Boris’ shell, producing a sound one could only properly describe as concerning.
Still nothing.
She shrugs, looks about and then snaps her fingers. She steps away and clears her throat. “Man, I’d sure love to get cooked and eaten alive today.” Instantly she hears a sharp inhale.
“DID SOMEONE BE OF THE SAYING OF BEING OF THE COOKED AND THE EATING OF THE ALIVE?! I MUST BE OF THE COUNTING IN! BORIS NUMBER ONE OF CHEFS!” Suddenly the kitchen illuminates to life like a gameshow stage, Boris raising his human-sized claws and snapping in celebration. “WHO SHALL BE OF THE COOKED AND THE EATING OF THE ALIVE THIS DAY?” He turns around and spots Colette. “OH! CAPTAIN APPRENTICE MEAT!”
“Heya, Boris.”
“WAS IT YOU THAT WAS WANTING TO BE OF THE GETTING EATEN? BORIS IS LOVING OF THE EATING OF THE MEAT!”
She shrugs. “Wasn’t me. Must’ve been some… other Colette on the ship.”
Boris’ black stalk-like eyes knock into themselves as he smashes a table in disbelief. “THERE ARE THE BEING OF TWO APPRENTICE MEATS?!”
She puts her hands in the pockets of The Captain’s coat. “Yeah, saw her running around the second floor looking for someone to eat her.”
Boris smashes his claws into his face like an embarrassed schoolgirl. “THIS IS OF BEING THE DREAM COMING TRUE! THE CAPTAIN IS NOT OF THE NEEDING FOR TWO APPRENTICE MEATS, AND THE OTHER WANTS TO BE OF THE GETTING EATEN! THE CREW WILL BE OF THE HAPPY FOR BREAKFAST THIS DAY!”
