Ira's Children

by jinnis

The ship's hull screeched like a living being while the atmosphere burnt away the protective shielding tile by tile. Ira squeezed herself into the padding of her seat and waited for her imminent death with closed eyes. She had sacrificed everything to save the hatchlings, but ultimately, she had failed, doomed to burn to death as a shooting star in the atmosphere of the one planet she had turned to for salvation.

Her attempt at finding a better life, a place where her offspring could grow free of bigotry and oppression, it had all been a mistake. Ira wrapped her arms around herself and tried to a calm her mind, aware her life would end any moment now.

When the impact came, she thought it was the final blow. A sharp hiss accompanied the shock, and the cabin depressurised within an instant.

Ira waited for the blissful state of oblivion she associated with death. But it didn't come. Instead, a soft splatter followed by a burble ticked her curiosity. She opened one eye to squint at her surroundings and closed it again in the stark white light flooding the capsule. A fraction of a moment later, she tore open both eyes.

Through the jagged crack in the cabin roof, she saw fluffy white clouds drifting across a blue sky. Intrigued, she unwrapped her arms and opened the safety harness, interrupting when the sensation of the capsule bobbing up and down intensified. Was it possible she had survived the crash?

Liquid sloshed on the floor and lapped at her seat. Its sound and smell chased the haze from her brain. She was alive, but it wasn't over yet. The capsule could capsize and sink any moment—and bury her and her precious cargo with it. The atmosphere and what looked like water might also contain health hazards. If they did, she was doomed. But hope flickered like a tiny flame in her mind.

The readings on her console told her she had landed on the planet's surface, but not much more. She ran a few routines to determine the composition of the atmosphere and the liquid flooding her cockpit. Nothing toxic, just oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen in various combinations—and mixed with other gases and minerals.

With a sizzle and a few sparks, her console died, probably drowned in the water with the high concentration of sodium chloride. It would have a corrosive effect on electronic components. But her wrecked ship wasn't her priority. The important thing was to save the hatchlings.

Ira pushed from her seat and made her way through the rising water to the cargo compartment. The hatch looked intact, but when she tried to open it, she realised the seal had fused with the frame. Icy terror knotted her guts as she hammered helpless against the solid metal.

A sudden lurch of the ship called her to her senses. The cockpit tilted to the left now, with the cargo compartment sinking lower. Had it cracked open too?

Ira didn't waste more time. She pulled herself out of the broken shell of her ship and clambered to the bulky cargo nodule, now almost submerged. A wide crack allowed the water to gush in. She squeezed through, aware she had only a few moments left to save her precious freight.

The incubator unit seemed intact. Ira unlatched the harness while the water filled the room. Not a blink too early, she slung her arms around the spheric device and pushed herself free. While her ship sank to the bottom of the sea, Ira let herself and her treasure be embraced and carried by the waves.

🐙

The planet offered more than Ira had hoped for. She let the light of the local star warm her limbs and began the search for an ideal place to free her breed. It took her a while to adapt to the environment and adjust her body temperature to the water. The oxygen content of the atmosphere was higher than back home, but not on a dangerous level. When she found a shallower part of the ocean, she let the incubator drift on the surface and dived to explore the reef.

Ira found herself in a world of wonder. Round-eyed fish populated a garden of colourful coral. She was thrilled by the prospects this planet offered. Her hatchlings would thrive in this new environment. As an adaptive species, they would master the challenges the planet could throw at them with ease.

A deep shadow fell over the reef. Driven by a sudden foreboding, Ira surfaced. Where was the incubator? It couldn't have drifted far. She cursed herself for letting it out of her sight when she saw the wooden ship. It bobbed on the ocean surface like a fat water bird. Broad canvas wings flapped in the soft breeze. Tiny figures hustled around and pulled something aboard. Ira swam closer, her natural curiosity mixed with a portion of chilly fear now.

And there it was, her precious incubator, the reason she had left her home and betrayed the one she loved, caught in the net the aliens were hauling out of the sea. Ira roared.

She attacked the ship bare-limbed, snatched the net and yanked it free. Little pieces of metal flung from tiny tubes pierced her skin. She hurt, but she hadn't time to care about her injuries. Instead, she shook the incubator from the netting and plucked one screaming alien after the other from the ship, flung them away or crushed them. Then the iron shaft of a harpoon pierced her arm with a blinding pain.

Ira dropped the torn remains of the net and attacked the ship, wrapped her arms around it in a deadly embrace. The aliens fought her with all weapons they could muster. But their iron blades and the fire tubes couldn't prevent her from cracking the wooden beams carrying the vessel's canvas wings. Then she put pressure on the rump of the ship. It was a solid build, but it wouldn't withstand her rage. Ira heightened the pressure until the sides caved in.

Wounded by dozens of spears, several limbs severed, she saw the incubator drifting by and reached for it. With faltering strength, she twisted the safety bolt from its socket. She had done what she could. Now, her offspring had to fend for themselves.

Ira watched as the incubator cracked open. From its shell, thousands of eight-armed babies spread, wiggled in the water and propelled themselves forward in search of nourishment. They would adapt to this world and their new freedom with ease and would make this world their own.

With a sigh, Ira let herself sink to the bottom of the sea, still clinging to the crushed remains of the wooden ship. She had done a mother's duty and could rest in peace.

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"Mummy, look. That's a super funny animal." Marco pulled his mother to the next aquarium.

"It's called an octopus, because it has eight legs. Can you see the suckers there on the tip? With it, it can climb even a glass wall or open a jar. They are pretty clever, too."

"Huh. It doesn't look clever to me. Just rubbery." The boy pressed his hand against the glass and the octopus changed its colour from dark brown to a pale olive before it tapped the window in front of Marco's nose with one tentacle. The boy shrank back. "Can it see me?"

"I guess so. Told you they are clever. Some people even believe they are aliens."

The boy's eyes widened. "Really? That's cool. Where do they come from?"

The mother chuckled. "No, silly. That's just scientists showing off because they don't fully understand them. Come, let's fetch an ice cream."

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