by Unknown
Billy was there when I got back from Wireless. She asked me if I enjoyed myself, which I told her I did. I asked her what she'd gotten up to today. In response she'd shown me a stack of fresh five dollar bills. My eyes went wide. There must have been eighty dollars there. In fact there were ninety dollars in the stack she showed me. Where had she gotten this?
She held me close and asked me to sit. Tone of voice suggested bad news.
Explained fearfully, work as a dancer since we returned. To be sure I understood what she meant I asked her. It turned out she had been dancing in very little for public entertainment. My heart felt like a lead weight hitting the bottom of my gut.
Turned away from me, crying. I wrapped my arms around her gently and ask her, softly, if all she did was dance for these people. She looked at me and told me that was it. She wouldn't have worked there if they asked her for a 'happy ending' to these dances. My heart restarted. Relief flooded through me. I held her tighter and reassured her I was there for her.
The rest of that evening I will not write of save only that no matter what the world thinks of her she is my friend and companion. Unless she had been truly unfaithful I would always stand by what she choose to do, and was more than willing to stand my ground against anyone who suggested I do otherwise.
Date: October 13
Mood: Happy
It was one of those days where Billy had to sleep so she would be ready for her work at night. My day would be spent tracking down this job Jenny said she was trying to finesse us into and see where I thought our chances stood. Plus there was that QSL card to mail off, and listen to the rumor mill grind a little more.
Jenny was an amusing character in that she seemed to be at the damnedest of places and apt to turn up at a moment's notice. I only had her word that she's a historian instead of, say, some elf from myth on a day pass in our world. Maybe it had to do with how she carries herself. It's the sort of attitude that's can-do, but not so overenthusiastic or perky that it made people shy away out of fear that what she had was catching.
That day I found her near the theater she told me about back in June. She watched the understudies practicing; they're the ones that filled spots left if a primary cast member couldn't perform. I didn't know if she was an actress, or if she was in production, whichever she was giving tips on how to convey a specific emotion to the man playing an anthropomorphic flower, that's what his costume reminded me of at least.
I watched for a time, not trying to interrupt. I wanted to know, but not so badly that I would be rude about getting her attention. When Jenny finally saw me she called for a ten minute break and jogged over to greet me. I commented on the costumes. She laughed and told me that because the subjects of this play were inanimate objects personified they had to practice in costume more often than other productions to get used to the movements required.
I laughed and agreed that it is somewhat difficult to figure out how a talking rose might move or gesture if you're out of costume till the first show. We talked about other inconsequential things. I told her Finn had just gotten Halloween stuff in and that she should take a look sometime. I wanted to know, I told her after a few moments silence, if there was any progress on getting Billy and I work.
As it turns out there was an opening available, but it was on board a trust fund kid's privet ship. The owner required all crew members to wear uniforms of his design and to refer to him as Commodore Jack. I raised an eyebrow but waited for the rest. The Captain of this ship, it turns out, had made it clear in the past that no matter how much money this person was paying, or how much he played at being a sailor, in life and death situations he ran the ship, not 'Commodore Jack.'
We would have to think it over, talk with the man, and see if we could stomach the situation before agreeing to anything. In the meantime I offered her a coupon good for half off one purchase from Finn. She took it and smiled at me as I left.
The next few hours were spent wandering town. I had a meeting with a potential employer that might piss me off enough to simply refuse to work for him. He couldn't be that bad, he already had a crew. Still, we would have to be wary of him. All this went through my head while I went to nowhere in particular.
Yes I had money, or at least I had grown up around money. Maybe that made me hypocritical to think ill of other people who had also grown up with money. If so than I cheerfully embrace the designation, because I personally loath people that see the world only as a way to indulge themselves. Don't get me wrong, I've had the good fortune to know many with wealth that are more than willing to share, and try making the world better. I have no problems whatsoever with them. They are good people.
Life had been busy and hectic to me lately. I
wouldn't complain, well other than the whole fear of possibly being vaporized by killer machines anyway. I could have done without that. The rest I liked. It was interesting and would give stories to tell small children at night.
My walk took me home. Strange. I started walking again. Eventually my 'aimless' wandering brought me back there. Curious, was my body trying to tell me something my mind didn't want to hear? Maybe, but I didn't feel tired or hungry. I continued to think that till I found myself curled up on the sofa, door locked and radio turned to folk music.
Date: October 20
The day my world changed forever.
The attack started just as we finished breakfast. Of course I didn't know this till hours after. At the time the two of us thought, well truthfully we weren't sure what to think when we first saw the commotion outside.
Many died in the first hour, but because they fell back after the initial wave we were lucky. Several other towns that had been hit at roughly the same time were nearly depopulated by as few as three or four of these mechanical devils. We were faced with, as I later learned, anywhere between eight or ten of them. Why? Why did so many center on Ashton? We had a major shipping port and a higher population than the surrounding cities.
We spent those first few hours trying to learn what happened. Details aren’t included here, because it was all a confusing mass of panicked people, crowds pushing us here and there, screaming. Lots of screaming. I have tried to recall what happened, but other than Finn leading us through I recall nothing. How the little man managed not to get crushed I again cannot say. Providence maybe?
While we were tossed about in the crowds the city's defenders fought admirably against these mechanical monsters. Though their losses were horrific, they took four of the attackers down. We heard the cannon fire from where we were huddled, that is how I knew we had been attacked. I did not know the sorts of guns used, but I knew they were large.
I wish the price hadn't been as high as it was, but they proved to the rest of us that what we fought were able to be killed. That gave everyone hope enough to plan for what was one of the most mind boggling plans I'd ever been party to. More on that later though.
There was a mass rush to the shipyards by those that hoped taking to the sky would put them out of harm's way. Reasonable thought, except for the whole fleeing in something filled with a highly flammable gas and made a wonderfully near-unmissable target in the sky thing. The first to get airborne had been shot down, as had the second.
These we saw, as it is nearly impossible to not notice an airship when it bursts into flames, and these didn't merely burn; they exploded with such force that even where we stood it felt like I'd been slapped hard.
The third ship quickly grounded itself, or at least as quickly as a lighter than air craft could. Thankfully they had been fast enough, because whatever had downed the other two had arched over the second then landed, hopefully harmlessly, outside of city limits.
Date: 29 October
Of Airships, Musings, and Explosions
This ship was mine, and I had absolutely no clue what to do with the floating monstrosity. Actually no, I had a fairly good idea what I would do thanks to 'Mad Jack', otherwise known as 'Commodore Jack'. Funny how we had agreed to his plan so rea
dily, because now that I had time to consider it, the whole thing seemed insane.
On the bright side if we somehow lived and Jack still wanted me to work with him I knew I probably would take that offer without hesitation. I might consider the idea crazy, but at least Jack had stepped up to offer something halfway possible instead of siding with those that wanted to hole up and wait for help to arrive. Even though I had agreed to this it wasn't, I kept telling myself, a good use of my talents. Surely they could have found someone better qualified.
It could have been worse, the crew, what little of it hadn't left, knew the ship and it's quirks well enough to keep her running. There was that going for me, plus the fact she was, so I had been told, in excellent condition. Considering the last captain was certifiably Mad. He had, before being subdued and carted off to a sanitarium, started shot holes in the ship's gas bags while he exclaimed that the world was going to end and that the only way to salvation was to purge our sins through fire. There were plenty of people that had taken the machines attack as a sign of the End Times. Idiots. People had been claiming the end was near for how long now?
When I had been given command I had been asked if I wanted to rename her. Now then, what did I want name her? Tradition dictated that such vessels were inherently female. Perhaps this was because of the widely held thought that we come from the sea, and as such it was our Mother, and the tradition carried over with airships. It could have also been that, like women, the sea was generally considered unpredictable. Whatever. Back up a few steps. Why rename her? My logic is not your logic so it may be hard to follow. This ship had been commanded by someone who was obviously mentally unstable and was originally intended to act as a passenger craft.
While many could dispute my claims at sanity I doubt that I was crazy enough to shoot at bags of highly flammable gas that just so happened to keep me from tumbling to the ground which, according to the story told to me, would have been roughly a thousand feet below. So that was why I renamed the ship that I had been given command of for, oh, probably about two days, a week if we managed to survive long enough to reach a safe field to land on.
Lady Luck? Hm, irony? I didn't feel like being funny or cute with names. Somehow it felt that any attempt at either would have been too much like daring Creation to do its worst.
Random Gambler? I liked it, but Billy made a face when I suggested it. Pass
Ariel? No, just...no. I might appreciate the Shakespearean reference, but Nah.
It was approaching time for the re-christening ceremony and I should have a name picked before I was to be fitted for my uniform. I hated naming things, everything I picked ended up either not making sense outside of the context of the moment, being some sort of joke, or just not feeling right.
Billy put a hand on my shoulder then told me to take a deep breath. Think of a name, she told me, the first name that popped into your mind was what we were going to call it. Inhale. Names. Female names. I needed one.
Isabella. She'd be called Isabella.
My uniform was bone white with touches of gold at the buttons and embroidery on the collar and cuffs. It seemed modeled after the old English naval officer uniforms. While I liked its simplicity, I abhorred the boots and asked if there was anything I could do about them.
Why bother with uniforms when they would only be worn once, was uncomfortable and would cause me to limp in the march from City Hall to the airfield? I realize that the whole pomp and polish had been to help ease the public and help put in their minds that we were the men and women that would keep them safe, and that we would be presented as organized as possible. I still hated the boots, and so did just about everyone else I spoke with who had also volunteered.
During the march I caught sight of a few familiar faces from the Wireless club. It made sense that they would have volunteered; this was most decidedly an emergency after all and we always were encouraged to lend our knowledge and skills where they would be best used.
In this instance 'we' would mostly be used to coordinate between both evacuation groups, city defenses, and those of us that would play decoy. It was during the march, or more precisely during the speech made during the march, that I learned that all of the decoy ships had been put under command by anyone with wireless certification. Their reasoning was that with a shorter chain of people between the ground observers and people on the ground there was less chance for things to go wrong.
Somehow this logic didn’t sit right with me. A few others had also, when moments allowed, voiced their dissatisfaction. However in this... how does that line go? Ours is not to reason why. Ours is to do or die.
If by some cosmic joke or divine intervention I somehow survive I’m going to let it be known that there were those amongst the newly appointed captaincy that were wholly against the notion. We didn’t have the experience flying these things. Sure, using radio officers to coordinate was a good idea, but putting us in charge? We only went through with it because time was pressing and most of us figured a coherent plan was better than a disorganized mass.
There had been more going on than what I had write here, much more. However it would be better to talk to
Kate, or Finn, or any of those that were on the ground at the time. There was simply too much, even now that I've had a chance to puzzle through things, to form a coherent picture from just my perspective.
Date: 03
November
Liftoff!
The sun was shining, the crew seemed in good spirits, and Billy had just given me a pair of goggles for the occasion. They were hardly necessary, after all it wasn't like we had been on the open-air deck on a sailing ship, or one of those impossible flying vessels that seemed to be little more than propellers and dreams holding up the impossible bulk, but I like how they look. There was also the convenience that they seem to allow the wearer to swap out lenses, which is good because they seem a bit dark for my tastes. Jack's plan had everyone working, which kept the panic down, but no matter how good an idea seemed while it was being pitched those half ignored fears tended raise up at the last moment to sink hold.
So then, as captain of this ship what shall my duties be? I suppose the logical choice of tasks right now would be to consult with Navigation, check with the rest of the ‘fleet’ to make sure our intended course wasn’t going to bump into anybody. It was eight hours till launch and no word from on high on what each would be doing. Maybe I was letting this whole 'captain' thing get to my head. Lets face realities. I was drafted to act as the lead man on ship with a skeletal crew that was going to act as an attention getter for things that had murder on the mind.
Doing what I could to remain dignified despite my stomach doing back flips and my nerves feeling shot, I slowly made my way to the radio room. Those that I passed shook their heads as they saw me, but didn't speak. Perhaps it was plainly obvious that I was ill, or perhaps they mistook my sickness for grim determination. I hope the latter.
Snapshots of the battle of Ashton
We rose, more or less as one massed force, from the airfield. Most felt everyone was too crowded, but we were far enough apart so that one ship wouldn't have caught everything around it on fire. Shots fired at us. One ship down. Several returned fire to hold their attention while the city's guns repositioned. Spotters confirmed one of the machines were destroyed. One ship down and several others with holes punched through their envelopes. They wouldn’t be able to maintain altitude. Hoped they would manage to get away from here. At least the ‘crash’ would be a slow and relatively gentle thing.
Two other Machines sighted by other ships. Their equipment looked like it had failed. My ship had the best firing solution. Unconfirmed, but they were momentarily out of the fight. Felt bad for destroying buildings to do the job, but it beat trying to hit man-sized targets from where we were.
Ground forces ordered to move now that we had their attention.
Something hit the cargo compartment. Lost one of our gunners. Ship stable.
Flash of wh
ite, can't see. Both receivers gave nothing but static. I ordered us to retreat at best speed. Glad the Gholem amongst the crew seemed less affected. Dizzy. Heard screaming. Think it was my own.
Fallout
Ashton is gone. Numb. Can’t process.
Other than expected wounds, infections from those wounds, airsickness, and emotional trauma, no unexplained sicknesses. Still think that might have been one of those city destroying Bombs my history professor talked about. Don’t know how else it could have happened. Even with damage from our guns it couldn’t have bee this bad.
'My' ship had been one of the lucky ones to survive the attacks. I would like to say that we had done some good, but in my bleaker moods I thought back to standing safe in my ship while the town burned. That wasn't entirely true. There was nothing that could have been done by any of us in the air. Our ships would have gone up like torches and likely have rained burning debris down on the heads of anyone that somehow managed to survive.
We scattered, and were to have met at Signal Hill because storms in and around Milton. We'd reached Signal Hill only to discover that they had also been hit and, like Ashton, had been reduced to a blackened cinder. All sense of coordination went to pot when the group that had fled by ground scattered despite best efforts by those put in charge of keeping everybody together.
A week passed then we were stopped by Eastern Republic troops. They saw our people moving and, despite repeatedly pointing out we had broadcast our situation on the hour every hour for three days prior, decided it was an elaborate cover story for an invasion that they had just interrupted. Idiots should never be given power of life and death over anything, for they will abuse it as this paranoid commander had with us.
We were broken into smaller groups of two dozen while vehicles came. There is comfort in that these men did every thing they could to keep families together. That small ray of light was a brief and feeble in the face of our group being forced to march alongside the troop carriers. Only the sick or those that could walk no further were allowed to ride, and then only after being beaten 'to make sure they're honest.' I was one of these people. So was Billy after she tried pulling them off me. I will speak no more of it.
