by C. Mahood
We continued onwards, the lights still shone bright in the distance, getting brighter as we approached.
We were greeted by steel gates, large, building high gates. A small fee was paid per person and we were permitted to enter. Past the gates was a carnival of Sin, stalls, caravans, tents and buildings made of recycled metal. Women and men exchanging sex for coin. Gambling huts, drunks littered the streets. The main building was a collection of gamblers and cheats, fights and brawls broke out every few minutes or so. There were no weapons however. We surrendered our on entering. Above our heads were women and men, naked, dangling in cages of gold. Many people below just stared up with vacant looks. There was no conversation from the people. They all just played the games, gambled coin and possessions. Consumed a strange green alcohol, much similar to absinthe. We had a strong urge to leave. Peter Bronston, another of our crew was a religious man and push strongly on the idea of vacating.
After spending little under an hour in the place they called “Salvation” we decided once more to leave. We played no games, gambled no money and yet we were not even noticed. The strange green drink seemed to be an addiction to all who were there., IT added a mind altering effect to them, not like alcohol, where you are still aware of your surrounds, only your decision making is much forgotten. No, this seemed like a relaxant. Of both body and mind. People moved slow, they dragged their feet. Their heads seemed heavy, ether staring to the ground as they moved or rolling back staring to the sky. They seemed to have lost any form of hope. Even in the eyes, there was no light. Just a collection of men and women, fulfilling base needs and waiting to die. We made leave of that place and returned to camp. Before we were missing Mr Thomas of course.
Peter “Pete” Bronston
February 15th
That place is damnation. It is the end of men. Where the forsaken go to rot. We have not travelled to another dimension, we have become lost and travelled to hell. I warned the men before we entered. Mt Thomas listened at first, but we still went in. There is no God in this land. No god.
George Thomas
February 15th
Sanctuary was a most disturbing place. On first glance I was to rub it down to simple reprobates and drunks, but I have discovered the truth.
On leaving the settlement I remained slightly behind the rest of the party. I told them to continue on towards the base camp before our climb, I wanted to remain and draw some more maps, documenting the surrounds and such things. Of course they believed me without question. My true intentions were a little more devious it must be confessed. I turned on my heels and returned to a small outpost on the outskirts of Salvation. There were several small families there. I sat with them and asked many questions about the place. Put this down to my Social anthropology part of the mission. I heard several stories from each family I went to. One common story ran through though. The story of the man with wings. Also the Grey men. There was a distinctive language problem here. We discussed through hand gestures and drawings on my parchments.
From what I could gather it seems as though there was an ongoing battle here. The land here was one a flourishing land. Full of animal life and many trading towns with a bustling economy. Then the winged man came. He brought tools knowledge and wisdom. He taught the people the way of peace, how to life full and fulfilling lives, his words were transcribed on pages and in books with the language he brought with him. He showed them secrets of sturdy and stone construction. After the Tower was erected in the north, He left the people with his love and instructions on sustaining the way of life that benefits all. Then the Grey men arrived. They too came baring the name of the winged man but they had rules. They had lists of restrictions and orders to obey. They took the writings of the winged man and explained what they truly meant. They told of the power that the winged man could give if obeyed and followed the rules correctly. They constructed large buildings and monuments in order to worship the Winged man, they claimed to be able to contact him when certain rituals were preformed or money paid. They instructed the people to only worship at certain times and in certain ways. There were certain types of clothing that could only be worn within the buildings and not outside. Silly rules that over time forced the people down with guilt into submission. From what I believe however, it was not all oppression under the govern of the grey. Through their rule, or influence, as I believe they preferred it to be called. There was order. No crime, no violence, no cheating and honest trading. Order was forced on the people at first but became a welcome addition to the culture here.
Some stayed loyal to the Winged man. These people were cast out. Called fanatics and insane. They were forced to live on the fringes of society. After time, the need to survive overtook the devotion to the winged man. Slowly the belief and the faith slipped and the old teachings were forgotten. The refusal to worship under the instruction of the grey men, meant those on the fringes lost all direction. Any attempt to re-join the civilised world was met with opposition and demands to convert. The Grey grew tired of the “Rebels” They hated that some of them were self-proclaimed “True believers.”
This lead to the Cull. The grey raised weapons in the name of the winged man and slew every man, woman and child they could find who was not wearing the colour of their lord. The survivors retreated to small colonies such as “Sanctuary” Where they surrender to base and, animal needs.
I re-joined the crew, only moments before the ascent. They were annoyed at my absence but I explained as we climbed what I had learnt.
The Annabel was in stages of repair. The balloon was once more inflated high, although the size and shape were different. I recorded my final findings and we returned to flight. The return journey to the I.D.B was uneventful. I remained in my cabin the majority of the time recording and drawing.
Bill Ironforn
February 20th
While the expedition party was out, I managed to make some significant structural changes to The Annabel. When I removed the rivet cage from the balloon to support the hull before we were sea Bourne, I assumed I would need to reverse the design once more when we tried to fly again. However, the weight has not changed and is still evenly dispersed. Therefore, I can now keep the hull reinforced and use extended ropes to turn the balloon into a detachable one. I have also used some of the old blimp housing to create a basket cabin for Mr Thomas. This means the Annabel will still fly when attached to the balloon with the rear thrusters acting as rudders when in the water. It also means that when we are in water the balloon can leave us and fly solo, returning to us each evening. The ability to have feel on the ground and eyes in the air are both structurally sound ideas, but strategically advanced too. For both defensive and offensive situations, if it is needed.
When the Party returned I showed them under the orders of Captain Todd. Lieutenant Hartley and Mr Thomas were very excited to see what we had done in their absence. Captain Todd is also very pleased with the sturdiness of the Hull. Canon fire will have a tough time breaking through. We are as strong as the warships but ten times as fast and much more easy to manoeuvre. The balloon as quick release hatches. This means to descend in emergency or battle is a simple pull of a leaver and air is released from the top. Meaning we fall much faster. Another simple tug will use some thrust heat to ignite the air once more and raise the ship again without trouble. Of course the plans will need submitted and approved at the I.D.B on our return, but I am sure they are in perfect Knick and will be stamped for approval, along with my patented design. It has been a good trip so far. I am looking forward to some R&R on base soon though.
Captain Charles Todd
February 25th
Our first voyage with the current crew has been a success. The crew bonded well, everyone has worked well together. The running of the ship has been like clockwork. Even the presence of Mr Thomas, has not disrupted things. I will be awarding Mr Ironforn with the captain’s recommendation award. His designs for the Annabel were outstanding. He has taken the most vital elements an
d improved on them. We have been pushing her the past few days on our return. The pitch control is very different but the risk of turbulence is now non-existent. The hull is stabilised and strengthened. We now have extra room for cannon portholes. I will run this past him again at a later stage. I know this is not a warship and our mission is to simply observe and report, but there is never any harm in preparation and defences.
Mr Thomas has not shown much of himself, he has been scrawling down ideas of the Winged man, pouring through all the books he has with him. I am SURE that once we reach the I.D.B he will be returning to not only his office, but the library. Mark My words. I, and some of the crew however will be taking our time to prepare with more supplies for the ground missions we will most likely be on.
George Thomas
February 28th
I spent little time on the Dimensional Boarder. I instead took my first transport back to Cogburn. I had to report my findings to Sir Andrew Bleakly. His interest in the civilisation we encountered will be most important to him. His first interest is the discovery of new worlds, at least, that is what he tells his fellows at charity dinners and fund raising balls. The truth, I do believe, is that he is more interested in where he can set up new holiday destinations and constructing and plotting trade routes and open transport lines. Money and empire, that is where his true interests lie I do believe.
I returned to Cogburn in the late afternoon but I made my way directly to his offices.
I heard the sectary in the waiting room cancel a meeting later in the day on my behalf. Sir Bleakly had cleared his whole schedule for me. It is a pleasant feeling to be treated with such respect from a man as powerful as he.
I showed him my findings, the numbers, estimated population, plant life, fertile ground, clearings for buildings, structural ideas and sketches to be submitted to architects. I explained about our journey but he showed little interest. I became aware that while things may have happened to us and the crew, the world did not stop turning here. I believe I was given little thought while I was away.
The odd thing was, Sir Bleakly had his back to me most of time. He smoked while facing the window. He listened to me and agreed with murmurs and with the nodding of his head. The moment I mentioned the Winged man, as an afterthought, he turned. It was obvious to me that he was trying to hide his initial excitement by shuffling papers and avoiding my eyes.
I told him the same story the people of Sanctuary told me. He accidentally snorted with a laugh of dismissal when I mentioned the oppressive nature of the Grey. He simply replied saying “Some people have problems with progress, no matter what form it takes.” Then that was that. I decided not to mention the Enocian Symbol to him. I did not want to talk to anyone about it until I had researched it myself.
I was given a new set of Co-ordinates and sent on my way with the best of luck and wishes.
The next few days were spent here in the library. The only place I can really know silence. I do admit that I miss the whirr of the propellers, the chug of the engine and the Hum of Annabel’s heart. I have been granted the allowance of withdrawing up to twenty books by the “Authority of the protection of literature.” I contacted them directly to discuss books, previously forbidden, those that contained ancient symbols and the lost languages. One in particular was translation, as we believe it, in Enocian. The language of Angels.
Upon my research I have discovered the symbol to be representative of the letter P.
What this means I am afraid I do not know. But I do truly hope I can uncover more on my journeys. I will return to the I.D.B in the morning. Travel on ground and even on trains seems so slow and restrictive after spending time on the Annabel.
Lieutenant Steven Hartley
Feb 28th
Mr Thomas is expected to arrive with us in the late afternoon. I am sure he has enjoyed his time away from the ship and crew. I must admit I have changed opinions of the man over this past while. I, out of principal, should dislike everything about him. His arrogance, his superiority complex and his general demeanour of know-it-all. Underneath all the cultural bravado however, I have got to know a kind hearted man with an adventurous spirit. He has no altered motives, simply the desire to explore and record his findings. We were given a fresh set of co-ordinates this morning. They were very specific and the telegram had no niceties or politeness. Just a simple order of a change of course. The dimension we are to visit has been flagged as vital importance and named Astraddle. No more information is given. I await Mr Thomas' arrival so we can make our departure. We have the same crew and all supplies are on board and checked.
March 1st
Mr. Thomas Arrived, later than expected, and our departure was uneventful and clean. He was a little put out by the change of coordinates, but accepted the terms easily enough. Not that he has much of a choice any way.
We had been aiming to land on Astraddle., a lush jungle planet, where the air was breathable, but a miscalculation led us to Atria first. We landed behind a large outcropping of what appeared to be Rumadium Crystals, to our great surprise. Not being one to pass up an opportunity, the crew donned our all-terrain climate suits or “A.T.C.S” and I led a boarding party at 33° 38' NW to 42° N. As we exited the Annabelle’s lower dock, and set foot upon the ground, we could see that we weren’t alone here. Ed informed the captain of his nerves and uneasy feeling. I masked my own fears by checking the settings on my wrist band device. We proceed with caution, and kept our pistols, rifles and muskets at the ready. I had my compass, looking glass and parchment ready, having already sketched several images and rough drawings of the inhospitable atmosphere. Mr. Ironforn grabbed a sample of the Rumadium, to take it back to the ship for analysis. He was bending over and scooping some pink and ruby crystals into his carry pouch. More to my surprise, ahead of us was another airship, with dark sails and a bright red balloon. In the distance we could see several other Crew members circulating the dismal stony field. I ordered the crew to enable our cloaks. A new upgrade my Ironforn tweaked on our last stop in the I.D.B.
“Cloaks enabled,” they all muttered back at me.
We crept closer to have a look. These were not Naval crew, and in any event, we were the only Earthling crew to have traveled from the boarders of our planet. These men wore similar uniforms to us, but they were much more tattered and aged. Both by weather and by general use. Holed in the knees, sleeves ripped, bandages and leather modifications were made to the suits also. They all wore a painted symbol on the back of each suit and wore a red cloth armband on the left arm. They had yellowing skin, and heavily whiskered faces. To razor must be in anyone’s possession on board their vessel. It appeared that they were mining the Chrystal field. They had an impressive production line happening. My team watched as they blasted large red and pink chunks of Rumadium from the cliff side. When it was in more manageable pieces, they lifted it out on wheelbarrows, and it was rolled into an airship that looked remarkably similar to the Annabel. I silently gave myself a mental commendation, as when Captain Todd and I had modified the ship after purchase from the disposable fleet of His Majesty's royal navy, we’d had the intuition to build a sturdy outer skeleton, that could travel inter dimensionally and withstand the exterior forces that buffeted the ship. The Airship ahead of us however had no such plating or Armor. The damage to it was very visible, not just age damage but definite cannon holes and scorch trails. We stood watch until we saw one of the ships being shut up. I motioned my crew back to the Annabel. I decided that We’ll see where they’re heading, and check out their port. Only after we informed Captain Todd of our findings, I advised my crew. We slowly trudged back to our ship. I was silently pleased that we had decided to hide our airship behind the cliff face. Cloaking her while on the ground would have used up more than the fair share of resources, and we would need all the energy we had to complete our mission, and return home.
Mr. Thomas was not best pleased when I ordered our return. He had been drawing, and measuring with his back to us the e
ntire time. He protested, at first like a gentleman then proceeded to become more irate. We have grown close over the long while but when I put my hands on his shoulder to lead him back he first shrugged me off then when I lifted some of his belongings to bring them back on board he proceeded to slap them from my hands. I warned him about insolence towards a superior officer but he said he was so involved with his work that “politeness and niceties” are a secondary formality to his work. He then barraged me with a rant about his role on the ship and the mission is his charge. I have since apologized for the incident that followed and I have been forgiven, but I struck Mr Thomas then. Harder than was truly intended but enough to knock him to his hands and knees. On our return Captain Todd Set a course to follow the other ship while still keeping our distance. We heard the sooties bellow singing out a song, trying to keep up a regular order of delivering coal to the engines. We saw the alien airship rise above the cliff. Soon she had zipped up and out of sight, but that didn’t faze our Communications Officer. He was able to track her movement.
For now, we traveled uncloaked, preferring to preserve our coal as much as possible. All was going well, until a shower of led raindrops, as Captain Todd calls them, (I simply call the bullets,) shot past one of our windows.
We were under fire. I commanded evasive maneuvers, Sam, readied the cloaking device once more. We held our ship back, and watched as the alien ship got smaller in the distance. It didn’t matter. We could track it halfway across the galaxy and dimension with Sam’s Pernicious Navigation Equipment. We were soon following at a steady pace behind her. I spent the spare time updating this diary. Mr. Thomas spent the downtime drawing out a map of the few features we saw of Atria. The crew of the alien ship must not have the technology to detect a cloaked device, so our ship was not fired upon again.
