Limitless Evolution As a Snake

The gate was closing on a pod full of people, and the tow pilot had decided his best response was to accelerate. I swam along the cable towards its coupling while Mara’s driver fought to turn, making the whole arrangement twist towards the narrowing opening.

[System: Keep the Deal Alive, mate. Get that pod and its people back into a safe lane for 1,750 EXP and fifteen IP, preferably before your first business partnership becomes a fucking salvage claim.]

I was hoping the hostile part of this takeover would involve rude emails, but apparently everybody here owns a winch. I reached the coupling and found its release buried behind a locking plate, with the tow line pulling too hard to open it by hand.

Sera called through the pod’s speaker that there was an emergency mooring ring beneath the service platform. I followed her pointing arm, caught the ring with two coils and wrapped another section of my body around the cable before activating Nuh-Uh.

The sudden density dragged me down against the ring with a painful amount of enthusiasm. Fifteen seconds of physical protection began as the tow line struck my hardened scales, producing a PAN-THUNK that sounded absurdly loud through the platform above.

The cable stopped moving, forcing the tow unit’s motor to fight something its manufacturer had not listed under normal loads. Mara’s pod swung sideways clear of the closing gate, and its driver used the slack to reach the marked emergency bay.

”Release the passenger end now, love, because I’m not becoming a permanent harbour fitting for the sake of your delivery schedule,” I called. Sera worked the coupling while Mara kept the pod stable, freeing the line with four seconds left on my stance.

The tow unit jerked forward when its load vanished, struck the gate frame and lost its cable drum against the metal edge. I let the broken line slide away as my density ended, then swam clear before the wreck could offer me a new reason to regret existing.

Tollan’s patrol arrived quickly because Sera had used the emergency channel instead of waiting for me to finish being entertaining. They secured the damaged tow unit while its pilot insisted he had been conducting a lawful recovery, as though saying it a fourth time might summon permission from the fucking sea.

Mara stepped out in the air-filled service bay and asked him to produce the order. He showed a work instruction from BrineSpan, which authorised collecting equipment but said nothing about dragging its owners through a gate small enough to remove their heads.

”That’s a fairly important omission, mate, although I can see how it slipped past your keen eye for business opportunities,” I told him. Tollan moved me away before the man could reply with anything that might require another medical form.

The pod’s passengers and cooling parts were checked before Old Mate paid the reward. I reached 25,250 EXP out of 30,000 and 165 IP, with a fresh eight-minute wait on Nuh-Uh and a growing dislike of anyone who described kidnapping as collection.

I checked Mara before celebrating the numbers. She had struck her shoulder against the pod wall but could move it, and the driver had a cut above one eye that the patrol medic was already cleaning. Neither injury became a reason to pretend the whole deal had been a mistake; Mara was angrier about the attempt to frighten her away than the damaged paint.

”Do you still want the shipment?” Mara asked. ”Absolutely, love, although I’d prefer the next delivery arrive without an armed escort trying to repossess the customer.”

”Do you usually negotiate by becoming a foundation?” Sera asked, checking the bent ring. ”Only when dinner fails, love, and you’re welcome to test the cheaper option.” She charged the damage to the towing incident and told me to buy my own dinner.

Mara wanted the company’s owner on a call before the patrol took the pilot away. His name was Voss Rill, an adult moray man who appeared on the screen wearing a pale jacket and the bored expression of somebody who expected employees to absorb his consequences.

He apologised for the confusion without admitting there had been an attack. Mara read the exact work instruction aloud, and his expression changed slightly when he realised she had kept a copy before the pilot could decide it had never existed.

Voss offered a private settlement if we returned his equipment immediately. Tollan explained that evidence did not become somebody’s urgent business property simply because keeping it was embarrassing, and I began to understand why Mara liked having him nearby.

The call ended with Voss saying the district relied on his pump contracts more than it relied on visiting troublemakers. I told the blank screen that I had heard more convincing threats from a microwave, but Sera did not laugh until she checked the pressure readings.

Her concern had a practical shape. BrineSpan serviced an older intake grid beyond the public berths, and several wards still used its flow during repairs, which gave the company a useful place to cause trouble without sending another idiot in a branded boat.

We moved to the control kiosk while Tollan called the district engineers. A maintenance release had just opened outside its scheduled window, sending a plume of concentrated filter waste into the lower channel where ordinary cargo traffic had already been stopped.

[System: That’s a dinner bell for something large and stupid, mate, which narrows it down less than you’d hope in your current social circle.]

If he thinks a feeding frenzy counts as a counteroffer, I’m sending back the entire fucking fish. Sera magnified the intake camera, and a broad shape moved beneath the waste plume, pressing against the channel wall hard enough to shake the picture.

The crew inside the lower repair cage had not been recalled before the release. Their supervisor shouted over the channel that the cage door was jammed, while the camera showed a huge round mouth opening beneath their feet and rising towards the lights.