Saturday Gazette - Octopus in Space

Episode 1 - Cephalopod in Space - Act III

The mixcycla moves suddenly – not towards or away from us, but behind us. 'Help,' it says. 'Please help. I think I'm the only one left.'

The three newcomers come to a halt, pointing their weapons at us. We see our reflection in their black exoskeleton helmets.

The leftmost speaks with what sounds like the same language as the mixcycla. 'We only need one of you alive. Unless you want me to shoot your friend, you'll give us the data access we need.'

'What... what data...' the mixcycla begins, but is interrupted by the right-most of the intruders.

'Sergeant. The Mixcycli rarely use mixed-species crews.'

The left one – Sergeant – steps forward and pokes us with the dangerous end of its weapon. 'What are you? Are you a pet?'

'A pet? We don't know... A pet? Maybe?'

As we're considering this strange concept we notice one of our arms – the third on our left – has snuck behind Sergeant and encircled both its right leg and the left leg of its closest companion. Meanwhile the first arm on our right, symmetrical with our fighty one, starts enthusiastically rubbing itself over the leg of the last newcomer.

The sneaky arm hasn't been noticed, but the feely one has, and the creature jumps back, saying, 'Ew!'

The other two glance over, and that's all the distraction we need. Our sneaky arm yanks on their legs, while the mighty arm that broke the mechanical device outside our tank shoves them. Simultaneously, our fighty arm lashes out and thumps the one distracted by our feely arm, and they all go stumbling and tripping over backwards.

Then we're all surging forwards at once – the arm behind the feely one has obtained a weapon somehow, while the one at the back on the right curls around the right-most intruder's neck and begins squeezing as hard as it can – which is apparently pretty hard. Fighty arm keeps whacking its target in the head while our pokey arm stabs at weak points in the exoskeleton of the one in the middle.

We're not quite sure what our feely front-right arm is doing – it still seems to be rubbing itself over these creatures, while the one at the back on the left is tickling them and waving at them through their visors.

In any case, none of their rifles are aimed at us any more, so we swarm freely over them. Stealy arm figures out how to use its new weapon and shoots Sergeant through the helmet, while our chokey arm crushes the neck of the one on the right. Mighty and our fighty arm together keep the one in the middle down, then our feely, pokey and cheeky arms manage to remove its helmet, revealing a blue four-eyed creature within – whose skull Mighty proceeds to crack.

The sounds of the struggle cease, and we rest on top of the bodies. A word finally comes to us for these new bipeds: Ghutarn.

'Ghutarn Ghutarn Ghutarn,' we say, slapping the bodies and wondering if they're edible.

The mixcycla approaches again, but its demeanour is no longer scared.

'You did it! You saved me! My name is Squ'thetha Rf'thatha. I will repay this debt to you, I swear it!'

'Huh. Okay,' we tell it, not really understanding. 'Well, our name is...' We think for a moment. 'Our names are Saturday Gazette.' Our arms wave in the air one by one, left to right, front to back, and we remember how they have each helped us so far. 'This is Fighty, this is Feely, and Mighty, and Stealy. Sneaky, Pokey... Cheeky, and Chokey.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you... all... Saturday Gazette. Will you be my friend?'

'Yes!' We can't remember if we've had a friend before, but we know a friend is a good thing.