The Suni was Tala’s favorite ship. It was a two-seater that just barely qualified as “civilian”, and built with a single purpose in mind: speed. Despite being rated for atmosphere, its massive Coral engine was by far its heaviest component, capable of propelling it faster than most long-distance freighters.


    Its body was composed of several metal panels joined at its front, lending it an angular, cone-like appearance. The main cabin lay just underneath its tapered point; while the engine was as far from center mass as possible, allowing for tight turns.


    Having been forged well after the discovery of Coral, a portion of its cockpit was made of tempered glass. She preferred seeing the world with her own eyes, rather than relying on cameras.


    Although information about the ship itself was purposefully kept sparse, Tala had set many records in it, and flown it over many more planets. Never once had she doubted its capabilities– until now.


    Tala knew something was wrong the moment she entered Torrent’s atmosphere. It was nothing so pronounced as a damaged engine, or a cracked hull, but she felt it nonetheless. The ship shuddered once, and then was still.


    Too still.


    It plummeted downwards.


    Stricken by panic, she pulled the nose up as far as possible, but it mattered little. The small threusters on the Suni’s meager wings– if they could even be called that– were designed for stability, not lift.


    What’s wrong?


    Tala reached over with her right hand, pulling up a complete overview of the ship’s systems. They all read perfectly.


    Shit.


    That was bad.


    Really bad.


    She could adjust for a known issue. But an unknown one? That was a bigger problem. It meant either the computer systems were damaged– more than the ship could compensate for– or the atmosphere posed greater problems.


    As for which was more likely… that was obvious.


    Tala let out another curse, this time aimed at her own stupidity. She knew the dangers of flying into unknown atmosphere for the first time, yet had deluded herself into thinking prior experience would keep her safe.


    That was a mistake.


    Potentially a deadly one.


    And to make matters worse, the Suni was a high-speed spacecraft. It eschewed many of the conventional safety features of standard ones to remain lightweight– including ejection seats. Normally that would have been enough to keep it from certification, but circumventing silly little things like regulations was a simple task for an Admiral’s daughter.


    Her father, of course, disapproved. Not that he did much about it; he was absent far too often for that.


    “Tala.” The voice of Vanu, her copilot-slash-bodyguard, came over the intercom, calm as ever despite the apparent danger. “The engine flow is irregular.”


    Swiping her finger across the holographic HUD, she saw that he was right.


    “Shit.”


    “... Language.”


    “We’re about to die, and you’re worried about my foul mouth?”


    “Stay calm,” Vanu said soothingly. “Panic will do you no good.”


    Tala gritted her teeth, intending to rebut, but stopped. He was right. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm as she gripped the controls once more. Landing without incurring a fatality would be difficult, but not impossible.


    “Designate crash zone when ready.” That was Vanu’s way of telling her to take whatever time she needed. Time, unfortunately, was something they had precious little of.


    Tala pulled up the sensor feeds. Even without doing so, she could see the floating city to her right; a collection of metal-and-glass spires that scraped the skies above. Any other time, she would’ve stopped to admire the technological marvel, but that was decidedly more difficult to do with death approaching quickly.


    She heard Vanu mutter a curse of his own at the feeds. “There’s people below. Lots of them.” He was right– a wave of people swept across the city’s outer ring, no doubt aware of the peril the Suni posed.


    Tala closed her eyes, considering her options. It didn’t take long for her to reach a decision. “We’ll crash away from them, in the ocean.”


    Vanu fell silent. Just as she was about to repeat herself, he responded. “Are you sure?”


    Tala nodded, though she knew he couldn’t see the gesture. “I’m not going to risk people’s lives because of my stupidity.”


    “... Your father is going to be upset.”


    Her chest tightened. “Let me worry about him.”


    “Very well.” Despite his initial reluctance, Tala could hear a note of approval in Vanu’s tone, and she knew she’d made the right decision. “No need to designate a crash zone, then. Focus on slowing the approach.” Even with their doom quickly impending, his dry wit made her smile. “Angle it as best you can.”


    Tala nodded. “Diverting Coral to main cabin.” The dull whisper of the Suni’s engine quieted even further as the blue-green substance flooded the cockpit. The spacecraft was perfectly capable of surviving the crash– although remaining intact was another thing altogether– while the Coral would keep them from being flattened.


    That said, it would still hurt.


    A lot.


    The Suni was still rapidly losing altitude. Faster, even, now that the Coral flow was split. A number of alarms flashed on the holographic HUD; Tala silenced them all. They told her nothing she didn’t already know. She was vaguely aware that this stunt would result in the loss of the craft, but that was a distant afterthought in the face of crisis.


    This is going to hurt.


    That was her last thought before slamming into the ocean. The sheer force of the impact threw her forward, causing the seat straps to constrict against her torso. This was not her first crash-landing, but it was by far the most violent.


    The Coral-laden air strained Tala’s lungs, and for a moment, she was afraid they would burst. Water kicked up against the cabin''s glass viewport– and then the darkness claimed her.


    She had no way of knowing how long unconsciousness lasted. When she came to, the cockpit was bathed in a dull brown-red light; a result of the Coral’s glow mixing with the red alarm lights.


    It took Tala a moment to recall the events that had just transpired. Torrent. Crash. That last thought jolted her from her stupor. Already, the Suni was completely submerged.


    That was bad.


    She knew little about submarine design, but she knew that keeping pressure in was much easier than keeping it out. And, more than that, there was no way of knowing how well the spaceship would handle high Coral saturations.


    Likely not well, though, considering everything that had happened prior.


    Tala groaned as she reached for the harness’ buckle, her arms and chest sore from the rough landing. Nothing seemed to be broken, and she was still breathing, at the very least, but they would still need a battery of medical tests once they were safe.


    She cursed her stupidity yet again, but forced her mind from such useless thoughts. There would be time for that later.


    Assuming they survived this, anyways.


    Tala undid the clasp and promptly collapsed onto the hard floor below. Though unbroken, her legs were weak and shaky; completely unable to hold her weight. “Vanu?” She asked. There was no reply. Unconscious, disabled– or dead.


    She gritted her teeth, and– bit by bit– forced herself into a sitting position. That small movement alone took nearly two minutes; precious time, considering their precarious position. The glow of Coral was stronger, now that they were below Torrent’s surface.


    Another warning panel flashed onto the HUD: Hull integrity 79%.


    That was much, much lower than she’d expected– and it would only degrade faster as the pressure increased.


    Tala pounded on her legs with a growl. “Work, damn you!” Slowly– so agonizingly slowly– the feeling in her legs returned. She hobbled over to the control panel– only to find it completely unresponsive.


    “Fuck!”


    This time, Vanu didn’t protest her use of language. Didn’t– or couldn’t. She wasn’t sure which. Taking a deep breath, Tala forced herself to calm. Panicking would do nothing to stop whatever happened next.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The emergency release. It would still function without the onboard computers– but Vanu was still unresponsive. Opening the cabin would flood his compartment, and Tala couldn’t possibly hold her breath long enough to rescue him. More than that, he’d warned her of the potential dangers. And she’d overruled him. Again.


    This time, the consequences would be deadly. The logical thing to do was to escape. Someone must have seen their crash– help would arrive at some point… just perhaps not until after they were dead.


    Before Tala could come to a decision, she heard a tapping sound coming from above. Thinking herself mad, she looked up, expecting to see nothing– and instead found a boy peering through the cabin''s glass front.


    He had black hair, pale green eyes, and paler skin that seemed to shine in the ambient light. Though the Suni had descended some ways by now, he seemed perfectly at ease.


    Seeing Tala’s eyes widen, he grinned and waved– a gesture completely at odds with the situation.


    Before she could respond, he brought both hands up, signing something that was completely lost on her. Seeing her unresponsiveness, the dark-haired boy opened his mouth, then closed it and puffed his cheeks.


    The meaning of that, at least, was clear.


    Hold your breath.


    Tala watched, dumbstruck, as he maneuvered so that both his feet were pressed up against the glass. His fingers found purchase on something, somehow– and he pulled.


    Nothing happened–


    Then the ship shuddered and groaned–


    And in the next instant, the entire front of the Suni was torn clean off. Before Tala could even process what had just occurred, the ocean rushed in. It happened far too quickly for the human eye to register; the water was at bay one moment, then swallowing everything the next.


    Some part of her expected the water to be cold, but it was warm. In another situation, it may have been comforting.


    The rushing water should have slammed Tala against the Suni’s interior, but somehow, the boy’s hand found hers first, pulling her through the gaping hole in the ship’s frame. His grip was firm but gentle, his flesh warm against hers even among the oceanwater.


    She struggled against his grasp, trying to indicate, somehow, that Vanu was still there– still there, in the spaceship, his compartment no doubt flooded by now. How long would he last? They weren''t even supposed to be here. If he died...


    But the dark-haired boy spared her not a glance as they rose to the surface. They seemed caught in a current of some sort, and it carried them to the surface in less than a minute. Without it, she would have drowned before breaching it.


    Tala gasped as her head broke the surface. The boy’s hand guided hers to his… vehicle? That didn’t seem quite right– it was just a sheet of shaped metal, completely lacking any sort of propulsion unit.


    She shook her head. Unimportant.


    But the boy spoke before she did.


    “Is there anyone else in the ship?”


    “Yes,” Tala eked out in between gasping breaths.


    “How many?”


    “Just one. My copilot.” She took another breath, intending to tell him where on the sinking spaceship, but the boy dove as before another word could cross her lips. The only proof of his presence were the tiny ripples spreading from where he’d been just seconds ago.


    Tala blinked, wondering if she had somehow hallucinated the whole thing– it seemed likely, given that he’d practically ripped the Suni apart with his bare hands. And yet, here she was on the surface, still breathing.


    Not a hallucination, then.


    Some distant part of her consciousness seemed to know the answer; but it was muddled by fear, panic, and adrenaline. That same adrenaline made her hands tremble uncontrollably, in spite of the water’s warmth.


    Stay calm. What would dad think?


    In.


    Out.


    In.


    Out.


    In…


    And out.


    Finally, her trembling stopped. She took a breath and prepared to dive– despite knowing the futility of her efforts- only to yelp as the water’s surface erupted next to her, rocking the small metal vehicle that she held. The boy’s head became visible as it settled– along with Vanu’s. His wheat-colored hair clung to his face, and his eyes were closed.


    “Vanu!” Tala cried.


    The green-eyed boy paid her no mind, throwing Vanu’s body up onto the metal sheet and hoisting himself up afterwards.


    Tala scrambled to do the same, pulling herself up onto the… craft? She still had no idea what it even was. She rushed to Vanu’s side as the boy rolled him onto his back.


    “Is he alive?”


    “I don’t know.” The boy’s voice was eerily calm, given the situation. “He was unconscious when I found him. His lungs are probably filled with water.”


    Tala nodded. He would have experienced far more turbulence than she. “Can you help him?” She asked, voice still numb with shock. If he died because of her recklessness…


    “Quiet.” The boy’s voice was brusque yet sharp, leaving no room for argument. She fell silent as he ran one hand across Vanu’s body, rising from his torso to his lips. A small stream of water gushed, coalescing into a small sphere beneath his palm.


    For one agonizing second, nothing happened– and then Vanu coughed. It was a horrible, gut-wrenching sound that expelled even more water.


    “He’ll be alright,” the green-eyed boy said calmly.


    Tala stared at him wordlessly as the previously distant answer finally clicked into place. “You’re a Tidal.” It was perhaps the most obvious statement she’d made in her life.


    The boy raised one eyebrow. “Did you think otherwise? I kinda tore your ship in half. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t think there was really any other option, with the whole sinking thing and all.”


    It took her a moment to process that. His words were casual; flippant, even, as if this was a regular occurrence.


    “It’s fine,” Tala said with a shake of the head. “You saved us. Thank you.” Now free from the clutches of death, she took a moment to inspect the strange boy. The hair that she thought black was instead deep navy in color; gleaming wetly in the ambient Coral''s glow.


    His eyes were sea-green; that odd shade a half-step removed from being blue. The same color as the Coral that surrounded them. He seemed around the same age as her; no older than seventeen, at the very least.


    “I’m–” Tala, she wanted to say, but Vanu bolted upright before she could finish, emerald eyes wide with panic. They widened further at the sight of the boy.


    He reached for his weapon– and the navy-haired boy uttered a single word.


    “Don’t.” He stayed perfectly still as the water surrounding them erupted. It rocked their small platform, throwing Vanu off-balance. Tendrils of water snaked forth from the spray, grabbing hold of both his hands. The whole thing happened in less than a second.


    “I may not expect you to kowtow to me, but I saved your lives,” the boy said. His voice was icy; completely devoid of the jovial attitude from before. “This seems a poor way to thank me.” The watery tendrils pulled backwards, slamming Vanu onto his back. “If you’d prefer to wait for the Tideguard, I’m more than happy to leave you here.”


    Tala stared at him. Weakened as he was, Vanu was a soldier– and a well-trained one at that. Yet he was powerless against a single boy. She bristled– and then relaxed. Neither of them had the strength left to swim back. And, moreover, the boy was right. He had saved them. Reaching for a weapon was a poor way to repay that.


    “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “My companion just came back from the brink of death. He’s disoriented.”


    Silence fell for a single, agonizing second– and then the boy nodded. “Fair enough.”


    Tala blinked. She hadn''t expected him to concede the point so easily.


    He looked back down towards Vanu. “if you reach for your weapon again, I’ll drag you to the bottom of the ocean.”


    Tala shivered. Not just at the implication, but how easily he’d uttered those words. “We don’t want any trouble,” she said quietly.


    The boy tilted his head. “That’s an odd thing to say. You just crashed a spaceship onto a planet that doesn’t have spaceships. Do you think the Tideguard is just going to let you walk away?”


    Tala fell silent, unsure how to navigate the situation. The Tideguard were mentioned in the many reports and books she’d read, but only by name. She knew very little about them. “We don’t want any trouble,” she repeated.


    The boy looked back down at Vanu. “Are you going to give me trouble?” He asked.


    For a moment, she feared the blonde soldier would lash out, but he shook his head. “No.”


    “Good.” The boy relaxed, and the tendrils dissolved into shapeless water, running over the smooth metal surface to rejoin the ocean. “Have you ever ridden a skimmer before?”


    “Skimmer?” Tala asked, unfamiliar with the word.


    The corners of his lips curled up into a slight smile. “That’s a no, then. I suggest you hold on.” As he spoke, the platform they were situated on began to move. Slowly, at first, and then more rapidly.


    “Are you doing this?” She asked breathlessly.


    The boy nodded. “Congratulations,” he said, somewhat sarcastically. “You can now say you’ve ridden a skimmer.”


    It made sense. Tidals could create currents at will– this was probably the fastest method of transportation on this watery world.


    “... I’m Tala,” she said, offering a hand.


    He didn’t take it, instead closing his eyes. “I’m Lorel. Sorry, but I need to focus.”


    Tala got the distinct impression that those words were spoken more out of a desire to avoid conversation.


    Fair enough.


    Silence fell as they sped towards the floating city. It took less than five minutes. The skimmer slowed as it approached, gliding gently up onto the artificial shore. A girl walked up as the boy hopped off.


    Two things about her were immediately apparent.


    First, she was the boy’s sister.


    Second, she was smart. Not the pseudo-intellectual type that thought the universe depended on them to run, but intelligent. She shared Lorel’s pale skin and sea-green eyes, but where his were jovial– whimsical, even, hers were sharp and analyzing.


    And her hair was bright pink. While the boy’s deep navy was unnatural, it was more likely due to his being Augmented. Hers was dyed, no doubt.


    Is she a Tidal too? That seemed improbable– she likely would have aided in the rescue if so.


    “Is that everyone?” Her voice was gentle and soft, a complete contradiction of her sharp outward appearance.


    The boy– Lorel– shrugged. “According to her.”


    Tala cleared her voice before speaking. “It was only myself and my copilot. Again, thank you for saving us.” She bowed her head again, and when she raised it, both siblings were staring at her. “What?” She asked, somewhat uncomfortable under their combined gaze.


    Lorel snorted. “I didn’t realize copilots carried weapons and dressed in military uniforms.”


    “Lorel!” The pink-haired girl smacked the back of his head. “I’m sorry about my brother. He rarely thinks before he speaks.”


    “I choose not to think before I speak,” he corrected. “Life is easier that– hey!” He cried out as his sister smacked him again.


    “I’m Aria,” she said, holding out one hand.


    Tala accepted it with no small amount of gratitude. Her skin was smooth and warm. “Tala,” she responded. “And… don’t be too hard on him. It’s true. He saved us.”


    “Yeah! You hear that! And now I’ve got all sorts of paperwork to look forward to–” Lorel ducked under Aria’s swing this time. He opened his mouth to say something more, then stopped short, eyes widening. “Speaking of paperwork…”


    Tala turned around just in time to see a group of five push their way through the gathered crowd. They all wore the same dark blue uniform gilded with golden highlights. Though she had never seen them before, she knew without a doubt that they were part of the Tideguard.


    “What…” the question died on her lips as she turned back to find Lorel striding away with his sister in tow.


    “What are you doing?!” Aria cried, struggling, but apparently unable to break his grip.


    “If I have to do a ton of paperwork, I’m going to do it after our trip,” Lorel declared. “Dad will cover for us– even if he’ll hate doing it.”


    “But–”


    “If we don’t go now, it’ll take ages for you to get another opportunity. Do you really want to wait that long?"


    Her shoulders deflated. “No.”


    “Then let’s go! The paperwork will be there when I get back.”


    “... Fine,” Aria half-heartedly acquiesced.


    Tala watched as a tendril of water just like the ones that had restrained Vanu reached out to grab hold of the two siblings. She saw the pink-haired girl’s body tense, then relax as it lifted them into the air.


    A second, smaller one reached out to grab a perfectly round disc, cut from some sort of pitch-black material. The two tendrils deposited the siblings and hatch alike atop a nearby craft. It was cut from the same material as the disc– a hatch, she realized– and clearly shaped after the aquatic beasts of humankind''s home world.


    Aria descended first, her hot-pink hair disappearing into the strange vehicle’s body.


    Lorel grabbed the hatch and made to follow suit before turning around to look down at Tala. “Goodbye!” He called out with an exaggerated wave. “We’ll probably never see each other again, so you should just forget all about me.” And with that, he dropped down.


    A low hum filled the air as– presumably– the crystalline craft came to life. Like the skimmer, it had no visible propulsion unit; instead, the calm tide rose to swallow it, and when it receded, it was gone.


    After a moment, Vanu broke the shocked silence. “What the fuck just happened?”


    Tala decided not to point out the hypocrisy. Mostly because she agreed with the sentiment.