Dash to Freedom Edit
It would be good if I could write that this had a happy ending, that Purple got young Blue Tentacles away from moral danger, that they both lived a free and wholesome life together as father and son somewhere else. All too often real life doesn’t have a happy ending and it didn’t end happily for our two either. There would certainly have been a stronger bond between them if they had known that they were father and son but they didn't know. What did former slave Purple do? He wasn’t used to taking decisions for himself and the Old Tramp, Brown Tentacles had promised to help them escape. The submarine surfaced very briefly while Purple picked the Tramp up at a pre-arranged spot, then the boat dived again and rushed swiftly but smoothly on towards some coastal swamps, hundreds of kilometres away that Brown knew. The boy was at the back of the vehicle with the tramp he loved and no Centaurian advised him about what was right and what was wrong.
Purple was at the front with his tentacles on the controls some tentacles were even inside the engine, sensitively and expertly Purple manipulated the sub. Purple paid little attention to what was happening at the back of the boat, he was focused on running the engine as he had never been focused before in his life. From time to time Purple mumbled to himself something like,
“Come on baby, faster!”
“Good baby, that’s fast!”
“Go faster baby I know you can do it, the Sun give you speed.”
What was happening at the back got to be disturbing as Purple couldn’t get the very best speed while they were lively and kept shaking the boat. Suddenly there was a petulant shriek followed by,
“Stop that, Brownie, you’re hurting my poorly tentacle!”
Purple’s focus was broken, he realized he would have to slow down, go to the passenger section and sort the trouble out.
Blue Tentacles pointed angry eye stalks at Purple, then at his friend,
“Brownie’s horrible, he’s a bit like that Slithery monster my father wanted me to marry!” Blue’s tentacles flashed just slightly ultramarine.
“But darling we’ve been waiting so long.”
“I’m sick I don’t feel like it.”
Purple remembered that the boy had struggled to climb through the service ducts when he was weak from hunger, that the boy had drunk polluted water and had bolted down far more emergency food concentrates than is wise. Purple was far more concerned about getting away, he just asked them both to keep quiet and stop shaking the boat so he could drive really fast.
The dash for freedom continued and Purple studied onboard maps, where feasible he travelled through tunnels. That was harder for the passengers, those service tunnels weren’t designed for comfort but it was safer since on the surface there wasn’t even a bow wave to show the position of the fugitives. Purple programmed each new turn into the ship’s computer and tried to give enough time so the computer could calculate the ideal way to deal with each challenge. As before the boat writhed and turned like a living thing while it rounded corners, when the two passengers were thrown together the tramp wanted to get sexual but the boy just felt sick. From time to time Purple heard the boy grumbling something like,
“You’re horribly awful.” or
“You’re awfully horrible.”
Purple paid little attention, he didn’t want to think about what types of torture his master and the villain with the slithery tentacles were preparing in case they were caught he just wanted to make sure none of that happened.
They travelled this way for a very long time, then unexpectedly warning lights flashed in the driver’s section and in the passenger section.