The walls of Salthome were barren, pale joyless plaster over bone marrow of sickly concrete. Square grey floor tiles’ luster put government buildings to shame while their overbearing blandness rivaled that of a psych ward. Clerks and technicians weaved between silently shutting reinforced metal doors, talking always hushed. Evenly spaced whale-maws of air conditioners kept all hallways uncomfortably cool. Leo could not spot security cameras, but had no doubt every square meter was covered.
The impression this complex gave him was surreal and disorienting, and he suspected that was intentional. It was too clean, too quiet, too cool. Not a single stray smell, not a single smudge of dirt. If not for writhing grasps of tentacle marks peeking from under the sleeves of every worker and abundance of automatic weapons being carried around, he would quickly forget where exactly they were.
Somehow, despite their apparent experience, Sel appeared significantly more concerned than him. Trying not to stare as the two guards clad in grey ballistic armor escorted them deeper down the confusing windowless corridors, he still noticed their nervous fidgeting and tiny beads of sweat forming on their forehead.
“Their actual HQ?” - Leo almost choked on his hot dog, staring at the witch over the park table in disbelief, - “Like you’re just gonna walk me in there?”
Sel returned a growl, spitting into the yellow grass on the side, scruffy coat still spotted with diamond-dust of the drizzle.
“Wouldn’t do it if I knew a better way.”
He dropped the dull pastry onto the metal surface and buried his hands in his hair.
“Do you realize how insane it sounds?”
“Dangerous and insane are different things,” - Sel’s face was an unhappy grin, eyes focused into infinity 45 degrees off his face, - “But yeah, really hoped we could avoid it. Alas, they locked down getting IDs since I last checked. It’s either this or you join them. Latter’s permanent.”
Leo sighed slowly, releasing the clutch on his hair.
“How is this even gonna work? You’re not really working for them either. They’re not big on unknown visitors.”
Sel’s face tensed up. They quickly scanned the space around them for passerby, and, leaning in, whispered:
“Rivermother owes me a favor.”
The last checkpoint was a barrage of contrast, a bizarre but welcome change in style. Trickles of color snaking around the imposing bulkhead felt like an explosion against the bluish-white blankness of the walls. The drawings, laconic but focused and rich in hue, depicted various sea life holding musical instruments. The guards’ rugged dragonscale powersuits were sprinkled with colorful stickers and marker signs.
“Ey, look who it is! The enigmatic healer witch!” - one of them shouted, amused voice echoing from under her helmet, as they approached. She punched the other’s shoulder with a metallic thud, a casual movement that would surely break multiple bones on an unarmored human.
Leo heard one of their escorts’ breath lock up for a second, a forceful swallowing motion. He was one of the few men they had seen among the garrison, and he was very visibly uncomfortable going this deep. Leo could relate.
The second shelled guard laughed, waving at the guests and pointing to the biometric scanner embedded into the wall. They repeated the process for the fifth time: retina, fingertips, voice. The second-long delay before the first guard gave them a thumbs-up and the door began to slide open felt like a minute. Their escorts were already stomping away hastily, not waiting for confirmations.
Following after the witch, he stepped into a warmly lit inner lobby, and heard the mass of metal slide back into place behind him. Walking between two rows of round wooden tables, he found unexpected relief in seeing actual patterns on the ceramic tiles under his feet.
The heavily marked, casually clothed residents of Saltheart were sparse at the moment, only a few spots across the room occupied. Nonetheless, there was great variety in heads tilting towards them, most uninterested, some smiling. Without making eye contact, he still noticed a few strange appearances - a thin featureless figure with more prosthetic surface than skin nonchalantly sat on a table, and a very tall shape hunched in the corner, twisted arms concerningly similar to a wizard’s.
“Damn, didn’t expect actual human interiors here,” - he whispered to Sel, trying not to lag behind.
“Shut up,” - the witch hissed without turning, knuckles pale from clutching the side of their coat.
They were almost through the hall when a thin voice rose from the quiet chatter around them. Sel’s head snap-turned to face the source with uncomfortable speed, but a second later Leo was surprised by how quickly distress left their face.
“You should have warned me!” - the short, skinny woman limping towards them had a wide smile on her face, bright despite the ugly intersecting stitch-scars, - “I see you once in, like, forever!”
The witch laughed awkwardly as sweater-covered arms wrapped around their torso in a confident hug. Something in the riverdaughter’s right shoulder whirred quietly as Sel returned the embrace. By the look of the fingers, Leo could tell she was using simple non-integrated prosthetics.
“Sorry Oxie, this one’s short. Business.”
“Aw damn,” - Oxie yawned, tone tangibly sad, - “You taking personal work orders again?”
“Uh, hope not?” - a nervous chuckle, - “It’s for my buddy. Need some deficit sourced. Hoping to get by with cash.”
“Ohhh,” - the apparent friend stepped back, finally unhanding the witch and eyeing Leo curiously, - “Well, depends on how mom’s feeling today. Don’t know actually, haven’t talked to her in a bit. Gonna walk you two to the door if you don’t mind.”
“You probably shouldn’t move too much?”
“Trynna snake free?” - Oxie laughed clearly, narrow fist softly connecting with the witch’s side, and set off down the dimly lit wood-paneled corridor, - “Amort on this leg is pretty good, joints don’t complain. Almost. Either way you’re not my doc anymore, stop sweatin’.”
Sel laughed again, a blend of embarrassment but also relief. The guests followed into the warm gloom.
“Oh, shit. That makes a lot of sense,” - he stretched the words, crumpling his paper bag.
Noise of the road nearby was fine sandpaper against the wet mess of browning leaves around them. The drizzle was ending, and by the forming tears in the clouds Leo could tell they’d soon begin ripping open to let the sleepy sun through.
“Yeah. She got taken away into a hospital in February. Next week two more of these girls showed on my doorstep, dragged me right to Rivermother. Thought I was gonna be rolled into concrete,” - the witch laughed unhappily, fiddling with the tall collar of the coat, - “She thanked me and offered me to join them. Been trying not to take that offer since.”
A pigeon dashed between the branches. Leo squinted into the tangle, repeating the explanation in his head.
“When you say daughter, you mean like, actual daughter? Not a figure of speech, not weird slang?”
“Yeah. I mean, no, she can’t… Shit, man, it’s hard to explain. And I don’t think I’m allowed to. You’ll know when you see her.”
“…And she likes it. I mean, she doesn’t say she likes it, but she says yes when I ask if I can add some more fish to a wall… Oh oops we’re already there” - Oxie giggled, unlatching her grasp on Sel’s arm. Punching a sequence into the door control panel, she fumbled her prosthetic into her simple cloth purse and fished out something flat and rectangular. A small notebook. She pushed it into the witch’s pocket, - “Looks like you didn’t bring yours this time?”
“Nah, sorry, slacking on paper stuff,” - Sel leaned into Oxie’s quick hug, - “Only walls.”
“Daaaamn wish I could do that too, seems fun.”
Leo stood beside them, both relieved and embarrassed to see these unfiltered displays of affection deep in the beast’s gut.
The four-meter tall door slid open with only hissing of hydraulics, the next cubic room housing a twin gate, oddly close to an airlock. Sel’s friend was limping back to the hall, sole making dull clinks against the floor tiles.
“Good luck in there!”
The same quiet hissing engulfed them as the metal wall closed behind them, slicing off all outside sounds. Nothing came through.
A different hissing joined in. Leo guessed it was an air pump, not from the sound but from how the tip of his tongue felt on inhale. Almost an aftertaste.
The inner door unlocked and rolled sideways.
“Approach,” - a cold, featureless voice commanded from Rivermother’s chamber, a room so absurd he struggled to categorize its absurdity.
There was so little in this unnervingly perfect cube of a space. An equally cubic, brightly lit aquarium the size of Sel’s flat in the middle, empty save for some plants and a large reddish-grey rock. Rows of screens on all walls, facing the center, empty save for a few displaying the same room they were in from different angles. A metal desk, empty save for a cheap remote presence half-body android seated at it, facing the door.
A chair to the side, in the corner’s shade, opposite from the desk. A person in the chair. An assault rifle on their knees, pointed nonchalantly towards him. A waterfall of black hair. A predator’s grin in the dark, a nod to the center.
“▧▣▤⯬␕▣▥⭙▩▩ has placed plight. Plight was received. Background verification was performed,” - the android’s speakers cut towards them through overbearing silence, faux-jaw moving awkwardly out of sync, - “Leonidas Kirov, speak.”
He breathed in, as deep and slow as he could to set back the drum of his heart, and began the speech he had been rehearsing countless time the last week.
“Thank you in advance for your patience. I came here to request a service. Four years ago, I was arrested on charges of… copyright infringement, and sentenced to ten years of telecommunications ban. I need a registered but unassigned Sister-Rivers Federation ID chip to bypass guard golems of the Whisper Waves Committee and resume work and studies. Se… I mean, ▧▣▤⯬␕▣▥⭙▩▩ told me you have them, but do not source to outsiders. I have been told that the price could be in the order of…”
“Not lie. Not truth,” - the android’s eyes were vacant, focused into infinity 45 degrees off his face, - “Simpler paths are available. Relocation is available. Alternative line of work is available. Motivation will be explained.”
“I…” - he gasped, orienting himself after a surprise punch of a question, - “I cannot leave without some amount of savings. I have a family member who relies on my income. I also had… have friends, who I only know remotely.”
“Not lie. Almost truth.”
Empty glare of a puppet. Disappearingly quiet hum of aquarium air pumps. Bluish-white lights. Blank screens. 7.62 barrel staring into his back.
He tried to estimate the risks. He immediately realized that was stupid. He had no idea if she could get to June. He had no idea if she was into using family members as hostages. He had no idea if she was considering him at all.
He glanced at Sel. The witch was trying their best to produce a neutral uninterested look. That was not working very well.
“Fuck it,” - he thought.
“I had a…” - words did not come easy, - “I had a remote partner. I have not been able to contact them for about two years. I need to talk to them again.”
A silence. A silence too long. A silence that felt like windup of a mistake. A silence before…
“Approach,” - the android’s voice was as passionless as before.
“What do you mean, I’m alre-”
His mouth, frozen mid-word. Movement in the water tank.
The rock was unfolding. The rock was changing color. The rock was changing texture. The rock was-
“Approach,” - fake voice of Rivermother repeated from behind, the horizontal slant of her left eye piercing him face to face.
He took a step towards her, then another. She shifted across the artificial seabed, coming closer to the glass, lifting herself. Each arm twice longer than his body. Reddish-grey tile patterns flowing across her skin. Unblinking eye locked in contact.
“Raise your hand,” - the two-armed beast in the corner commanded with no less certainty than its master, - “Pull the sleeve back.”
He raised his left hand towards the glass, fingers a few centimeters from the edge.
She pulled herself up to the top, underside of her body exposed. He could glance a chipped beak between the rows of suckers. Eye still locked.
One arm flowing out, through the surface, over the glass. Searching with its own rhythm, distinct from the others.
Contact, a pull. An instant lock on his skin he wasn’t sure he’d be able to break. Cold slither probing across the surface of his wrist. Calm and methodical. Eye still locked.
A very long ten seconds. Surreal curiosity.
Lock lost at once, Rivermother retracted into the water, back to the tank’s center. Not masking anymore. Eye still locked.
He was breathing again, with some difficulty. Same could be said for the witch.
“Leonidas Kirov is now known. Motivation of Leonidas Kirov is genuine. Compensation is not required. Service is required from Leonidas Kirov. Service is required from ▧▣▤⯬␕▣▥⭙▩▩. Service will be returned. Close to voice. Highest container. Open.”
“Damn, you really hate the idea of joining them.”
“No shit man,” - Sel scoffed, almost hysterically, - “I wanna be my own person you know? Travel where I please. Make a friend and tell ’em about my life. Have a week to myself. Not die with a bullet in my head. Shit, sometimes I think I should adopt a kid at some point…” - they trailed off. The concentration of fear and longing in their voice was a blast of snowy wind in his face.
Leo felt guilty. Leo felt gross.
“Maybe you shouldn’t let me drag you into this shit then? Like, seriously, maybe not let me take away these things?” - he failed to give it less bluntly, but sensed the witch wouldn’t mind.
A long pause, sparse tears trickling down the witch’s cheeks.
“Maybe,” - their eyes focused back on him. Determination and sadness, - “But, unlike these things, you’re already here,” - they pulled their gloves back on, standing up, - “Get up, 9 in the morning is sleepiest Salthome hour. We’ll do what we have to.”
“…What are these, exactly?” - Leo asked cautiously, looking through the narrow viewport into the reinforced canister, where the small fish-like things hung suspended in oily liquid.
“Eye. Ear. Relay. Underside. Water reservoir 6. Deliver. Release. Leave no trace. Return.”
“So, bring these to my workplace? That sounds… Doable,” - he failed to contain hopefulness in his voice.
“Additional actions will follow. Additional context will be present. One daughter will be selected. One daughter will assist.”
As fast as it rose, his heart began sinking back.
“What does that-”
A metal clang from the corner. Light footsteps of the beast approaching the tank next to him. Rifle lowered.
“Allow me to assist him, mother,” - no hint of the usual smugness. Cold, tactful, reverent, - “I’ve been sick of waiting to gaze down this scope of mine.”
For the first time in a five-minute century, Rivermother’s left eye lost its hold on Leo, piercing the smaller beast instead. The wave of instinctual relief washing over him was so tremendous he almost didn’t know it was there.
“Allowed. Lyssa Saltheart is selected. Leonidas Kirov, accept or deny.”
He closed his eyes.