Don't you remember?

Coughs and Sneezes

It was Eelrune’s day off. Her plans for a family visit had been cancelled due to transport issues, leaving her without much to do. She’d had a shower and watered her garden but was now struggling to find another means of occupying herself. She could read, or watch TV, or even try to study—but none of it felt particularly appealing. Something to drink, perhaps? That could waste about … five minutes…

After making herself some tea, she sat on the sofa to think. It was quiet. Things had been quiet for the past week and a half. Queenie hadn’t been visiting the clinic lately. She usually showed up every other day after work—Eelrune always finished much later. But recently, the human hadn’t shown up at all. Or called, or texted. Perhaps she was busy, but Eelrune had been contemplating the possibility that her friend had simply lost interest. After what she’d shared of her life; the little she did in her free time … it was highly possible Queenie found her boring.

Eelrune glanced at her shellphone. She could initiate a call herself, but knowing someone as talkative as Queenie, if she’d wanted to chat they’d be on the phone already. Then again …  the human was prone to stumbling into dangerous incidents. What if something had happened to her?

Before Eelrune could begin wording her message, the phone rang. Startled, she answered at once, barely registering the caller ID—but it was someone she knew. “Hello?”

“Oh, Eelrune—” The high-pitched, teary warble of a voice reminded the nurse of Marina’s first visit to the clinic, where she’d burst through the door crying like Queenie had died. “It’s Queenie, she—”

“Has something happened?”

“Well—sort—kind of? I know you don’t know everything about human illnesses, but T’s phone is engaged, I don’t know who else to ask, I really need your help…”

“Okay, try to calm down. What’s the problem?”

Marina took a long, whimpering inhale, trying to control herself. “Ohhh… She says it’s fine, but you know how she downplays stuff all the time. She’s really sick, she only gets out of bed to throw up, she keeps sneezing and snuffling, and she can’t stand up for long…”

“That certainly doesn’t sound good…” Eelrune considered where she left the human handbook. This didn’t seem like a situation where she’d have to operate, but the details on human anatomy and bodily functions might help with a diagnosis. While it seemed like Marina was overreacting, it had been worrying enough that Queenie had kept this to herself. “I’ll come over and see what I can do. Where do you live?”

Silence fell on the other end at Marina’s pause. Not a snivel could be heard. As Eelrune was about to ask again, the octoling finally said, “I’ll meet you at Grizzco Industries and we’ll go from there.”

Once she’d collected her things, Eelrune set off to meet Marina. She hadn’t picked up much, most of the useful equipment was at the clinic, but the handbook and a purse-full of medicine would be enough until she could determine which to use.

Grizzco Industries wasn’t hard to reach, but the octoling wasn’t prompt about appearing, and it was an unpleasant place to stand around. When Marina finally did arrive, Eelrune was losing her patience, but she held her temper for the fretting girl. Besides, she’d used the time to revise human anatomy. It had some surprising similarities to other species.

“Sorry, I … got lost,” Marina mumbled. “I can find my way back, though. For sure. We can’t take too long.”

Eelrune nodded. “Lead the way.”

Marina seemed certain of her lead, though some of her turns felt a bit directionless, making it clear to Eelrune why she’d become lost. Eventually, though, they arrived at the outskirts of Splatsville, where a large lone caravan stood.

“Here we are.” Marina gestured before stepping closer.

“Where—the caravan?” Eelrune’s eyes darted around. “You both live here?”

“Yeah,” Marina confirmed, not registering the confusion in her voice as they started up the entrance. “It’s real close to the dig site I work at, so it’s a pretty great location – can you make the step? There aren’t too many, but it’s the only way in, so…”

Inhaling deeply, Eelrune tried to focus on the matter at hand. “Yes, not to worry.”

Once inside, it was clear they’d entered the kitchen. It was a lot tidier than the eel was expecting; clean kitchen surfaces and a neat dining table for one. There was another room leading to the right, but Marina seemed more interested in the one on the left.

“Queenie, I’m baaaack…” She motioned for Eelrune to stay put for now. “How are you feeling?”

A response drifted from within the room, nasally and pathetic. “Awful. Did you get me the tea I asked for?”

“Yes—and something better.” This time, Marina motioned for Eelrune to come through instead.

The moment she laid eyes on Queenie, a look of pure horror graced the human’s visage, and she pulled the covers of her bed up to her face. Her hair was unkempt, the bed itself was strewn with tissues, and there was a (mercifully empty) bucket next to the side-table.

“No, don’t look at me—!” Queenie squirmed, curling her legs up beneath the covers. “Marina, why did you bring her? Seeing me like this … it’s just a cold, I don’t need medical attention. Now she knows what squalor we live in!”

The octoling didn’t take this very well, and her concern flared into anger. “You can sleep outside if you want! I didn’t have to get you anything, or anyone, but I was worried about you! Shows me!” She stormed out into the kitchen, and Eelrune was left to deal with the situation.

“Well, it’s nice to see you too,” she huffed, sliding further into the room. “Marina said you’d been throwing up, and that sounds worse than a cold to me.”

“I’ll be fine, I prom—prom—hatchoo!” Queenie’s condition made this entirely unconvincing. “I’ll get better within a week on my own.”

“You might be right, but I’ve been asked to make sure.” Eelrune tightened her grip on her handbag. “I also brought a decongestant and some painkillers, but I’d like to make a diagnosis before I risk giving you any medicine.”

“Alright, fine. What do you want to do to me?”

“I’d like to take your temperature, listen to your breathing, and look at the inside of your mouth. There’s not much I can do without equipment…”

Queenie glowered at the floor, reluctantly lowering her blanket shield. “Do what you must, but I don’t like the sound of that last one.”

“I don’t have any tongue depressors on-hand, so you might escape it.” She didn’t have a sterilized thermometer either, so she placed her hand on Queenie’s forehead instead. It was warm. Humans were hot-blooded, but not THAT warm. “I think it’s safe to say you have a fever.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Queenie muttered. “How are you going to listen to my lungs without a stethoscope?”

Eelrune gave her a look, barely stopping herself from saying ‘How do you think?’ by maintaining her bedside manner. “I’ll put my head on your chest. The stethoscope’s purpose would be to amplify that sound.”

“You—you’ll—” Queenie was flushed already, but now she looked hotter. “Ohhh, hurry up then...” She took a sharp intake of breath as Eelrune rested her head against her.

“Exhale slowly, please.”

Queenie tried to do as she was told but was interrupted by her own cough. “Ugh… I hate having you see me like this.”

“Oh, please. I met you in a much more compromising situation.”

“At least that was spontaneous and dramatic.”

Eelrune rolled her eyes. Queenie’s pride always came from an unusual perspective. Maybe it was a human culture thing. “Yes, well … I can’t listen when you talk to me, so take another breath.”

This time, Queenie managed to subdue her cough. She shut her eyes, savouring some unspoken feeling as Eelrune listened.

The nurse soon lifted her head, adjusting her hair-tails. “It doesn’t sound like you have much liquid in there, which is better for you than it would be for seafolk.”

“I don’t like how you said much instead of any.”

“Well … your breathing is laboured. But it could be far worse. I can safely confirm that you’re not dying, as Miss Marina feared.”

Queenie pouted. “I told you I was fine.”

“That’s the problem—you’re not fine, either.” Eelrune folded her arms. “Is it true you’ve been throwing up? Can you stand for me? Can you walk?”

Trying to prove her point, Queenie struggled out from underneath the sheets and emerged from the bed, holding her hands out to steady herself. She teetered, attempting to set one foot forward, all with a defiant look on her face.

Eelrune put her arms out to catch her when she inevitably fell forward. “That settles it. I think you should stay in bed and rest.”

Queenie clung to her, hiding her face in her shoulder. She shook slightly, and Eelrune felt the fabric of her clothes dampen, but the human didn’t make a sound.

She patted her on the back. “I’m trying to help because I want you to get better. I’m not trying to hold anything over you—everyone gets sick.”

“Please can I have the medicine you brought now?” Queenie’s voice was much meeker than it had been.

“I’d like to give you it – but I have one more question to ask. Have you had our medicine before? I wouldn’t want to cause further complications by giving you something that wasn’t designed for your species’ intake.”

“Well, nothing else I’ve had has killed me yet … I’ll have a look at the packaging though, for your sake.”

“For my sake…?” Eelrune helped Queenie back into the bed, where the human sat up and grasped onto the blankets. She didn’t elaborate at this confusion and was still sulking. Before Eelrune could prompt her further, Marina re-entered with a tea-tray. It seemed she’d let off some steam with the kettle, her concern greater than any offense she’d taken. There were two cups.

“I’ve brought your tea.” She offered the tray to Queenie, who silently took one. Marina turned to Eelrune. “Sorry, I didn’t ask if you wanted one, but I made some anyway. If you want, there’s some sugar in the kitchen.”

“Oh—thank you.” The eel slid her cup off the tray, placing it on the bedside table. She watched as Marina tucked the tray under her arm. “Aren’t you having any?”

“Mine’s in the kitchen. I don’t really want to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing in here. Um, how’s it going?”

“I was just about to give Queenie something for her sickness. She should be alright, as long as she keeps resting and drinks plenty.”

“That’s a relief…” Marina rubbed at her brow. “Anyway, I’ll leave you be.”

Eelrune passed over the decongestant she’d taken out of her handbag. “You can’t take both medicines at the same time. But do make sure this hasn’t got anything toxic to humans…”

“I’m familiar with most medicinal components, I assure you,” Queenie reassured her as she studied the packaging, taking a quick sip of tea with her other hand. She thought it best not to mention her poison studies again. “This should be fine.” A pause. “Thank you.”

As Queenie took the medicine with her tea, Eelrune dipped out to put sugar in hers, mostly unnoticed. On her return, she rolled a chair over from Marina’s desk at the back of the room and sat at the bedside.

“I’m not much to look at right now,” Queenie grumbled, blowing on her tea.

“I assumed you’d want some company. But I can go—”

“Don’t go,” Queenie sighed. She put her tea aside. “Let me be plain with you, Runey.”

The tip of Eelrune’s tail twitched at the nickname, but she turned her head away in a demure manner. “I’m listening.”

“I am quite guarded with my emotions. Preserving my ego is … excruciatingly important to me.” She stopped to raise a tissue to her nose, sneezing before she continued. “As such, I find myself unpractised with expressing how I feel. About people, about my passions—I am often at war with myself, and as a result, I tend to put my foot in my mouth...”

Eelrune didn’t think that sounded healthy, exactly, but she left room for Queenie to continue.

“Which brings me to what I’m trying to say now. You … are very dear to me. You’ve done a lot for me, and I enjoy my time in your company.” The human fought her nerves, swallowing. “So … please don’t ever think I want you to leave, or that I’d want to leave you, er, ‘high and dry’. If I’ve been acting strange, it’s because…” Well, she didn’t have to admit the whole truth. “I’m struggling between long-dead social expectations and being a good friend.”

Hearing that Queenie had finished, Eelrune exhaled a long sigh. The human’s hand was flopped on the bedsheets, and she took it gently. She probably couldn’t catch it, but she’d definitely be washing her own hands later...  “I understand. Well—more accurately, I understand what you’re trying to say. Your situation is practically unheard of. A fish out of water, if you’ll pardon the expression.” She looked down. “That must come with a lot to learn. Not just about Splatsville, but about yourself. I had a taste of that when I first moved here, but for you, well…” Eelrune looked up again to see how Queenie was reacting.

The human was regarding her with intense interest, patiently waiting for her to continue, so she did.

“It’s not surprising that you’d feel overwhelmed—nor will things magically fit into place.” She squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her. “But if you want me here, then I’ll stay. I want you to get better.”

Queenie’s mouth half-opened, but she seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say. Eventually, she asked, “Is that because you’re a nurse, or because you’re my friend?”

“Well, take your pick.” Eelrune drew her hand back, reaching for her tea. “Because I’m both. But I didn’t come all the way here on my day off just because some patient of mine had the flu.”

None of them really knew where the entrance was, so they sidled around the ship until they discovered a door.

Finn looked over his shoulder at the others. “Should we knock?”

His question was met with shrugs and eyerolls, so he opted to ta-pa-tap on the metal door. There was no answer. Unable to cope with the suspense, Marina pulled on the handle instead – it wasn’t locked, and the door came open with a tug and a chunk sound. Casting a glance at the others, the octoling motioned for them to follow.

Brightly lit, electricity was already running onboard the ship, and there was a zesty chemical smell as if someone had recently cleaned the floors. The door had opened out into an airlock, though this too was open, allowing easy passage to the rest of the ship. A figure was standing by the exit. Whoever it was caught sight of the newcomers, and they bolted further into the spacecraft.

“Wait!!” Marina called out.

Queenie put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s no use. They won’t understand you anyway.”

“If we follow now, we might catch up.” Finn gestured ahead, before taking his own suggestion and hurrying through the next door. The others followed suit.

It was hard to navigate the interior of the ship without a map. There seemed to be doors everywhere; ones with handles, ones that opened diagonally, ones with windows...

“If you think about the shape outside,” Marina noted, “the front of the ship should be in that direction.” She pointed to their right, at one of the larger diagonal sliding doors.

“Do you think that’s where they went?” Asked Finn, wishing he’d acted fast enough to catch them leaving.

“If not, it should at least be where the control room is. I figure the captain would be around there.”

Marina was correct about the ship’s layout, as the next area was a long corridor. Queenie peered through a window on one of the doors off to the side. It was wall to wall with cryo pods. She pulled away quickly, following the others.

“Hang on,” Marina held up one arm to stop her friends, clutching her Octoshot. A small white robot on wheels, about knee-height, had rolled out of a panel on the wall. It turned its singular camera lens at the visitors before continuing to trundle down the hall.

“Well … it seemed harmless.” Finn, who had reached for the Herobrush strapped to his back, lowered his hand. “Wonder where it’s going…”

“It’s probably for cleanup or some other menial task.” Queenie shrugged. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with this.”

At this insistence, they all proceeded down the corridor and entered the next sliding door, which indeed led to the control room.

Two human women in grey coveralls stood conversing in the centre of the room. One was older, with an unshakeable posture, and the other was youthful and frantic. Their outfits were printed with the ship’s logo. The younger of the two must have been the figure they spotted in the airlock, as she pointed fearfully at the group, gesturing as she talked. Looking over, the older woman froze. She locked eyes with the only other human there, losing her reply mid-sentence.

“No,” Queenie was the first to speak. “It’s not possible—of all people—” She took a stumbling step backward as the other human advanced. Unfortunately, the door had automatically locked itself behind them.

With forming tears, the human captain spoke in a language Marina and Finn could not understand. She wrapped her arms around Queenie. “My daughter! After all this time…”

Queenie’s posture was stiff, her face a picture of disgust, pain, and terror. “Don’t—” she got out, speaking her first language, “Don’t touch me.”

Serafina Ono relinquished her grip, forlorn and frowning. “Do you not remember your own mother?”

“I remember you all too well,” Queenie sneered. “Where was this love and desperation when I was a child?”

Marina and Finn exchanged glances, with eachother and with the uninvolved human, who looked just as bewildered.

“You’re right, Queenie. I was young, then, and foolish. But with what little is left of humanity … can you find it in your heart to hear my story?”

Queenie didn’t offer a reply and remained stock still, clutching her folded arms.

“The others can’t understand,” the younger woman piped up. “We can have STORM translating with the file from—”

“Yes, you’d better do that.” Serafina handwaved her. The young woman pulled up a tablet and began typing something in.

A calm, masculine voice spoke from somewhere above, ‘Ready to translate.’

“Very well—as you should know, I’m the new captain of this ship—Serafina Ono.”

As she made pause, STORM relayed her speech in Inklish for the rest of the group.

“Damn, that’s going to be annoying…” she scorned, before continuing, “With me here is Nami Ono, my stepdaughter. I presume this … red octopus creature is Marina Salt? Who’s your third?”

Queenie shot Nami a piercing look, which made her stare down out of fear.

But Marina answers, and STORM translates her speech too. “I’m Marina, yes. I’m, um, a humans expert. This is Finn, he’s here to help. Sorry, I’m not sure I follow—do you know each other after all?”

“Oh, right. You wouldn’t have heard. Queenie is my biological daughter, yes,” Serafina attempted to clarify.

“It’s complicated. I’ll explain later,” Queenie muttered. “I don’t believe it, of everyone in the world…”

“But—the cryo chambers for the rest of your family—they were empty?”

“I wasn’t part of their little family anymore,” Serafina elaborated, a bitterness dripping from that standalone statement, “but let’s not dig up those painful memories… I remarried, and my new husband, Aoto Ono, was the lead developer of this spacecraft and its AI. The ship was designed to keep us away from Earth until it was safe to return.”

“That doesn’t sound like it went exactly to plan.” Finn adjusted his spectacles. “What happened to your husband?”

“During his most recent centurial checkup, he took his own life.”

Nami Ono’s hand flew to her mouth, an audible gasp escaping her. STORM didn’t translate her utterance, “Dad, he—why would he?”  But it was clear this was the first she’d heard of how they lost him.

Finn immediately felt awful for prying. “I’m sorry—I didn’t realise.”

“These things happen, unfortunately.” Serafina bowed her head but didn’t seem all too moved by her husband’s passing. “He was a great man. We marked a grave for him not far from here. But his death was the reason STORM decided to wake us up … after his next 100-year interval.”

“One hundred years…” Marina brooded over this information. “We’re very sorry for your loss. Is that why you came back to Earth?”

“In part. But we have the other humans to think about, too—the ones still in stasis.” Serafina nodded slowly. “As the new Captain, I’ve decided it’s best not to wake them up until we have somewhere safe to live, with renewable resources. We have plenty of rations to keep us fed, but the desert isn’t a good place for survival. And from my husband's space observation notes, I understand overpopulation and territory disputes were already an issue before we arrived.”

“So,” Queenie finally spoke up again, deliberately choosing the cephalopod’s language over her mother’s. “What do you need us for?”

With a small crack in her patient façade, Serafina gritted her teeth. “To the point? Very well. We need information about the nearby settlement. Preferably a map—infrastructure. We’ve observed plenty from local television, but only now do we have a means to translate. If it’s safe, an escort would then be useful for surveying the landscape.” She pauses momentarily to let STORM’s translation catch up. “As stated - I don’t want anyone to leave cryostasis until I am certain this city can sustain human life.”

“Oh—well, we can do that, but do you not need other supplies?” Asked Marina. “Like more food? Or fuel?”

“A water source if anything. STORM is capable of running on solar energy, though fuel is necessary if we are to return to space.”

“You don’t need MY help, then.” Queenie shook her head. “I haven’t lived in this future long. There’s no reason for us to talk.”

“On the contrary, my dear! Humans should stick together. A shrewd, sharp-witted girl like you would be a massive help communicating with these … squidlings.” She opened her arms with a casual shrug. “I know I’m not your favourite person right now. But would you help for the sake of the other hundred humans on board?”

Cold and stiff, Queenie replied, “I’ll think about it.”

“We’ll help you gather information, Miss Captain,” Finn hastily agreed. “If that’s going to help you get your footing. We can bring things as you need them.”

“Yeah, I can send you data through our communication system—through ORCA,” Marina agrees, though with a cautious glance at Queenie. She looks back at Nami, too. The young woman had become even more withdrawn than before.

“Wonderfully kind of you both. We can keep communicating the way we have, yes. I’ll give you time to think, Queenie. You’re always welcome to return to the ship. But the rest of you—I’d appreciate it if you kept quiet about all this for now.”

Finn got the uncomfortable feeling that they were being shooed out. “Right. A bit of a major news story if we didn’t, I understand,” he mumbles, nodding once.

Queenie shook her head. “You’d be surprised how little Splatsville cares about real humans.”

“Yes,” Marina sighed. “But we’ll keep the secret all the same. It’s an honour to be the first to make contact with you! I’ll send across any information sources you might find useful.” She bobs a short bow.

“Much obliged. See them out, will you, Nami?”

The group slowly trudged out of the ship. There was an awkward air of silence—things seemed to have gone well, there were more humans, and they’d agreed to help them. But there was an obvious strain in the way all three humans interacted with each other. What would happen with more of them?

“I’m sorry about your dad.” Marina put her hand on Nami’s arm as they reached the exit.

STORM wasn’t listening anymore, so after a moment’s hesitation, Queenie bothered to translate instead. Spanish didn’t seem to be Nami’s first language, but she understood it well enough. “She’s sorry about what happened with your father.”