Playing Koi (18) (Patreon)

It was no easy task to convince the city council to risk more resources and lives on a dangerous mission across the aquarium. Even for a tank relatively close, the trip would put equipment and fish into danger.

It would be one thing if Thetria was still the bastion of magic and science it had once been. Refugees like Arlo would've instantly won the city to their side. The two cities united would easily begin a golden age of progress that would stretch from one side of the aquarium to the other.

The refugees they got were hungry, tired, and uncivilized. They were scavengers on the corpse of civilization, with few traditions of their own. In the end, Jemma had only one argument left to make—that goldfish were a peaceful and friendly race. That was why Algaegard transformed its criminals into goldfish—they were no threat, and could often make themselves an asset to the city.

Without Arlo, she still would've likely failed. The city council were barely willing to tolerate this small group of refugees at first—what would they do when a small army of little goldfish arrived?

Fortunately for them, she had his help. Arlo explained silently what Jemma couldn't know—he spoke about powerful artifacts that could be salvaged from the ruins, and the many books of learning and magical instruction. He spoke of bloodlines too, and how his immortal mother, Thetria's ancient patron, had carefully cultivated magical talent across generations. If she had continued the practice after his departure, even primitive survivors had a great deal to offer Algaegard.

Jemma won them over with a lie, in the end. A little fear-mongering over what predators wielding magic might be like, able to break down walls and maybe even shatter their tank—and everything changed. They were ready to deploy by morning.

For the first time in her life, Jemma insisted on joining the expedition. She dusted off old weapons, donned the armor Liam made for her, and swam aboard the largest and fastest submarine they had.

The word did not mean the same thing it might've to Jemma's human self, of course. A submarine did not maintain its own pressure, nor did it need to be even partially sealed. The vehicle was closer to a ship than anything else, except of course that it traveled entirely underwater.

There were complex rules governing underwater vehicles—about how fast they could go without cavitating, about pressure differentials in the tank and how fast they risked going before their ambition might crack the glass. Most were exactly wide enough to fit through the junction tubes connecting tanks, though there were smaller ones suited for maneuvering in tight spaces.

Jemma floated aboard the bridge of the SS Tidal Fury, the city's latest and fastest submarine. Several others would join them for the expedition, every vehicle close enough that it could be recalled and deployed in time. The space was cramped, with four stations along the wall and sturdy plastic windows covered in a mesh of metal to keep from being broken. Arlo was strapped into the captain's chair, with goldfish occupying the helm and both gunner stations as well.

There was barely enough room in the bridge for two other fish: Arlo's translator Nari, who could make announcements to the crew over audio on his behalf. Then Jemma, without a station or any formal responsibilities.

"I owe you for getting them to take me," Jemma said, lingering near the wall. "I know I'm just going to slow you down."

Arlo looked up. Of course there was no sound when he spoke, just as with every member of his bridge-crew. That was what the bright bridge lights were for. "In the fight. But whatever happened to my mother, I don't know if I can fix. Perhaps you can."

Jemma gripped the back of the captain's chair as the Tidal Fury lurched, the nose dipping as it plunged deeper into the aquarium.

It wasn't the predators that bothered her. She knew the sub could handle those, just as it had in many engagements before. But not knowing what they would find when they reached Thetria—that was so much worse.

Please be alive, she thought. But if the aquarium's mysterious goddess might be listening to her prayers, Nerissa made no reply.

The Tidal Fury's spotlights cut through murky water, illuminating a school of brightly colored tetras that scattered in a panicked frenzy. A massive catfish, its whiskers twitching, lumbered away from the approaching vessel, waving threateningly at them with both arms.

"Fat one, isn't he?" the gunner signed, her hand mimicking the catfish's bulk. "He's swimming from Thetria. You know what he must've been eating. I could send him to the black with one torpedo."

"No," Arlo signed back, gestures swift and cold. "We don't know how many predators are waiting in Thetria. We save every shot."

The other gunner, a younger goldfish with lopsided eyes, watched Arlo intently. "Are you really from Thetria?" he signed. "Same as those refugees?"

"A long time ago," Arlo said. Outside the plastic window, the Tidal Fury skimmed over one tank and down into the junction of another. A journey that took Jemma six hours of swimming would be over in thirty minutes at this pace. Assuming they didn't run into anything too dangerous during the trip.

"What's it like?" the eager gunner asked. "I thought it was... perfect. All the fish are the same, so no one thinks less of you that you can't talk. So much magic they could just seal their tank and somehow not suffocate."

"It was all that," Arlo said. "And so much more. Our universities taught subjects that no school in Algaegard has names for. When someone lost a fin, we could grow it back. There was no money in Thetria, and ten soldiers in our whole army. The water was clear—never any smog. No disease, or parasites, or..."

He paused, fins flexing as he searched for the right gestures. "Those refugees were nothing like any goldfish I knew. It's been... a long time. The shield didn't just hold fish out, it moved time. The ancestors... sped it up, so Thetria could advance. Every year we feel is a hundred in Thetria. We knew the world outside was dangerous, so we got strong. One day we would be strong enough to save the whole ocean."

He sighed, staring down at his hands. "Obviously that hasn't happened. The fish who came to Algaegard were... barbarians. My mother would've had every one of them sent back to study letters with the minnows until they did it right. Something terrible must've happened. I hope my mother can tell me what went wrong."

The navigator snorted, a stream of bubbles escaping his mouth. It still made no sound. "Sorry, captain. But I don't think you can have it both ways. Has it been thousands of years since you left, or... is your mother alive?"

"I hope she is." He reached towards Jemma from his seat, touching briefly up against her arm. "But it's hard to imagine she would let this happen."

The Tidal Fury slowed as it approached the border of Thetria. Jemma gripped the back of the captain's chair, fingers shaking. Once the entrance had been a flurry of high pressure water, keeping back all but the strongest fish. They slowed as they passed through into the wide entrance of Thetria.

The water within was dark and foul, cloudy with debris and the stink of rot. Jemma lifted the filter hanging from her belt, settling it over her mouth.

Other fish in the crew did the same, though not all. Some species could deal with dirty water better than others.

Arlo settled into the chair. "Spotlights, get tracking off to the starboard. We're going to the temple. About... thirty seconds that way. Drop to one quarter speed."

Jemma remembered this view—none of what she saw now was right. There should be dozens of structures in the water here, woven of living seaweed and magic. She hadn't realized it during her last visit, but she did now. Kisten used living plants to build to regulate carbon and oxygen in the water.

That made the city beautiful—but fleeting. Now nothing remained of those towers but a thin film of rotten plants on the aquarium's surface far above.

The crew scrambled to their positions, their faces illuminated by the glow of the control panels. One of the gunners adjusted her grip on the floodlight lever, training it across the dark water of the tank.

The Tidal Fury edged forward, slipping past the ruined archway that once marked the entrance to Thetria.

This was no city—it was a grave, extending far into the gloomy water. Coral ruins lay choked with algae and rotten matter.

Jemma watched in horror as a barracuda jolted towards the submarine, their body nearly as long as the Tidal Fury. Another appeared from the shadowy tunnels of a coral structure, teeth glittering in the spotlights. "Main battery!" Arlo called. His command was silent even now. "Prepare to fire... now!"

Several sharp metal spines shot away through the water, their serrated blades digging deep into the hostile fish. One tumbled away—the other tugged, ripping the wounds deeper.

"Second volley!"

The Tidal Fury rocked as something struck it, sending them spinning slowly. Jemma stretched out, bracing for impact as they came up against the tank—and they hit. Plastic snapped, metal bent, and fish went tumbling silently through the water.

Outside the ship, voices bellowed, barely audible over the struggle. "They sent... more? About time."

Jemma smacked against the sidewall, so she was away from the other side when something ripped through—massive arms, with snapping teeth not far behind. One of the gunners screamed silently, then vanished into dark water, leaving only blood behind them.

The Tidal Fury rolled in the water. Jemma strained, her body struggling to get her fins to work for her again. She could barely move, barely even think.

Then she was falling. She saw the submarine overhead, heard the whir of its salvaged electric engines—then it was gone.

She smacked into the silt a few seconds later, there in the ruins of some coral-encrusted building. She tried to speak, but the filter still in her mouth silenced her.

"A-Arlo... stop."

The goldfish captain couldn't hear her. But that was probably for the best—if he had, the huge fish in the water would've heard her too.

Jemma vanished into the slime.