by C. Mahood
Lieutenant Hartley.
May 6th
There is an entire city under here. We delved deeper into the ocean. There are mountains here, great, monstrous mounds of sheer cliff, haunting and unsettling. Like those of the great ranges in the east. Following the face of them downwards, we noticed signs. Written in a language none of us were familiar with, but clearly advertisements for lotions, or tonics or something in a bottle any way. The excitement was so great now as we neared our destination. The entire crew was crowding round to take turns with the periscope, the captain even permitted the coal boys to have a look as they would not be disembarking. My attempt at an explanation may not do this place true justice. From above we could see hundreds of sprawling domes, each clear, like a thick glass rounded over a sphere. There were brass rivets and thick steel brackets webbed over the ocean floor. Some were cleaner than others, some had a thick algae and limpets while others were stained and black from the inside. It was not so different as descending from the clouds towards Cogburn. Instead of hundreds of smoke pillars and chimneys bellowing out black, there were thin flu’s pumping out bubbles like smoke rising steadily like marble pillars to the ocean surface. There last of animal life was shocking however. When one visions life under the water’s surface, one imagines schools of fish, sharks, the occasional whale, crabs and lobster walking the sea bed. None of this was true however. Perhaps they were on farther sides, behind the larger domes, or perhaps they had all been harvested or scared of the light. I could not tell.
Drawing even closer the contents of these dome became clear. There were buildings inside these humongous structures. Vehicles, gardens, factory, parks, roads and shops. Truly astounding. It looked reminiscent of a greener Cogburn or the vintage photographs I had seen from the silent dimension of London.
We sailed or cruised past several domes, each like a district. So some had more industrial factories, while others contained more homed and houses. Some had fields of what I assume to be crops, others had small and clumped forests, for which I assume the oxygen is harvested. Each of the giant domes were connected with long and covered tunnels. Some dipped underground while others were raised up, leaving room for the now viable sea life to move freely underneath. We reached closer to what seemed like a central part of the city. One giant dome, almost pointed, in the style of a glass pyramid or cone, rose high from the centre. Hundreds of small tunnels led from smaller districts to the centre. All weaving and curling towards it and past and through each other. The best description is to imagine them as roots from the central stump. All feeding from smaller domes around it. As we made our way closer still we were hailed. A strong spotlight was shone from the centre and a voice came through the radio signalling that we followed the indicated light stream to the specified docking bay. The captain initiated the course and we began to make our way to the station. Only then did it dawn on us that we came disguised as the grey men but no one possessed any grey apparel.
Peter “Pete” Bronston
May 8th
So the captain told us all to collect our bedding from our bunks. We stripped them and only when we separated the stitching from the sleeping sacks did we realise what his plan in fact was. The bedding was grey. We were ordered to quickly drape ourselves in the grey and use the buttons from the base of the sheets to look like buttons of a shirt. They were strangely comfortable and we had a pretty convincing disguise now. The sheets were obviously very large but this lent itself well to concealed weapons the captain now permitted us to have. Quants dealt them out, mostly pistols and small weapons. No one took the rifles as we could not hide those, Quants however placed them within easy reach from the main doors. In the unlikely case of an emergency. The Bell is ringing now. The engines have been cut, we will dock any moment now. I must return to the docking bay.
George Thomas
May 8th
When the doors opened we were greeted by two me in full armour, brandish, blood stained, scorched and dented. They called us of the boat shook our hands, and welcomed us to “Sub York, The jewel under the sea.” They had assumed we were re-enforcements, judging by the language used and the explanation of a rebellion currently being crushed. IT seems we are not the first to arrive in a short period of time. Our disguises must have been convincing, because one man commented on how the Grey must be running low on funds if they cannot afford to fit us with new uniforms. Several of us had to suppress a giggle at this. We were told that the fighting had ceased for the moment, the rebels had retreated and some had been captured. The leader of the grey had called all to the prison for a display. It seems that we were expected. I do not know how, or why, but we were not a surprise arrival anyhow. As we were led to the prison for the “display” I enquired more, to which I discovered that a ship had docked days before, with a rough crew, carrying a prisoner. Some had disembarked and attempted to make a trade. They proposed the release of their prisoner if the grey men released a prisoner of their own. The proposal was refused and fighting ensued, sparking the rebellion to take its chance and join the skirmish. This “skirmish” had been going for days now, with heavy losses on either side. One district had been flooded and many died during the sealing of the tunnel.
Captain Todd enquired about the ship that arrived before us. It was docked in a district not far from where we were now. The description of the ship was the same as the one we had encountered weeks before, the ones that took Danny from the hold. This became our mission now. Discovering its whereabouts. It seemed however that it was in a district currently held by the opposition. Prying further we discovered that the rebels were called the “Ceart” A group of faith driven rebels. They conform to no God or Being and claim to be nonviolent. We are told. The outcome would appear not however. Ore path was walked steady and quickly, from one district to a neighbouring one. The view from inside these domes was breath-taking, for a lack of a better description, and no pun was intended. You could gaze into the ocean like stars in space. The sea life was much more viable now, as the silver side from the underbelly of a fish glistened when it was caught by the smallest ripple of sunlight. The morning was drawing to a close as we neared the district we were headed for. A sign above the connecting tunnel read. “Here dwelt those who risk the safety of us all, tread lightly.” Unsettling to say the least. As we emerged on the other side the contents of this dome was clear. It was a giant Prison.
Lieutenant Hartley
May 9th
The clock had struck twelve o'clock this morning. the tiny wooden gate of the submariner jail was opened by a guard for the purpose of admitting half a dozen men, who till then, had been drinking in the canteen, which belongs to the prison. Usually used for visitors. The light was always the same here, there was no sunlight this far below the ocean surface, all light was artificial, but I felt an extra sense of gloom this day.
We were escorted into to the yard the one for which we were particularly intended to go was a large irregular space, of shooting on one side of the prison, and on three others by high, glass walls. Every cell of the prison could overlook this place. The glass walls rose vertically to a dome above. The ocean floor was viable. Like great cliffs under water, rising high out of sight as the bleeding light polluted the surroundings, the tops of the cliffs were lost to darkness. At the end, however, facing that where there were benches and seats on a raised platform, and closest to the corner of the prison, were two objects which forced themselves upon my sight. In the right-hand corner as I looked upon them there stood two thick, long metal poles, with a huge and bulking cross piece, from which dangled a staple and a long, thick, metallic cable; There was also a box underneath the platform. A box the size of an average man. Shaped in the style of a coffin. No frills, metalwork, brass or attachments. Just a bare, splintering wood box, lathered in a black tar, still slightly dripping onto the ceramic floor on which it lay.
As we filed into the yard, the men in grey, all bloody and battle worn gave us looks of distaste now. I am sure they did not know w
ho I, or the rest of the crew were, but I felt as though they did. We wore our regulator masks when we left the Annabel, under the orders of the captain, but I felt eyes stripping the armour from me now. There was a man with not just the grey robes worn by all, but he had a golden shield draped over his chest. Not a usable combat shield but a tiny, ornamental shield that hung just lower than his chest. He seemed a man of importance among the Grey. I assume he was the designer of the horrible structure on the right, and the official most closely connected with that and the open grave. “Richard Daniels the third” was his name and he bade us welcome. He smiled at us, as though we were travelling guests, invited to a dining room ball.
I confess to a shudder as I looked upon the told of torture hanging on a rack below the gallows. I half expected that the man who carried them would have attempted to hide them. But no such luck. To him they were trophies of high merit, and together with the gallows, formed what he now confidentially informed us was “beautiful and swift tools of vengeance and justice”. It was evident that in all his creations he had more than a little pride. He was even ready to explain the awful instruments of his craft.
“This Cable that you see here, is two and a half inches round. I've hung over fifty men with it, and it's the same I used not three days before now.” He ran his fingers over the knot and the loop, lovingly, like a husband runs his fingers through the hair of his wife. He worse the same smile appropriate for that scenario also. “It's the quick snap noose, you see, with a hook that fits under the chin. A swift snap of the neck is desirable, but sometimes, depending on the weight and height of the unfortunate user, the hook is needed to be called upon. This splits the throat and entices a flow of blood, filling the lungs and causing the criminal to drown. Do you see the beauty in that? Being underwater, yet dry, but still drowning while you fly? It is poetry.”
Above the trapdoor, or rather at the right-hand side of it, and close by the gallows, was a lever, something like the track switch that you would see on railway lines, connected with the vault below the trapdoor. The rope that hung from the crossbar was coiled up; and although it had done duty so frequently, seemed nearly new. To Daniels the entire set up seemed like a victory of art.
“We are ready now, bring the traitor!” Daniels called. A small door opened from below the prison, like a western basement door leading to a cow shed, with steps coming from the darkness into the oversized fish bowl we were now sitting in. The figure was led up the stairs by a grey man behind and in-front of it. The figure had chains on its hands, feet and neck. Its mouth was bound and a leather strap was over Its eyes. Some of our crew gasped when we saw, it was a woman. we were aware of why we were there but the sight of it was still shocking. The prisoner was young. A girl in her late teens, or early twenties at least. She was a young recruit. A citizen of Sub York. Caught up and captured in the fighting. I had not seen her before, but recognised her clothes as those worn by the Felines leader before her untimely death at the hands of young Danny Racket. The dome was silent, just the rattle of chains and sobs of the girl were heard as she shuffled towards the steps of the gallows. She was lifted by the two grey men as he tripped several times trying to climb up the steps. At this Mr Thomas objected. He stood from his stool and shouted to Mr Daniels, pointing with such utter distaste, very out of character from the man I met all those weeks ago on our first voyage. I fear that the crew and our travels thus far have changed him. I do believe however for the better. There was a raucous then. We followed his lead and charged the men around us. They were not expecting our rebellion. The disguise of the grey seal that the Annabel now flashed had let us walk through the doors without struggle. The fight was quick. We overpowered them without trouble. The swift actions of our crew made Captain Todd very pleased. He however was the first to take the life of the man he had grounded. We followed suit and killed the remaining men. There were no shots fired, just quiet executions with blades. That is, until the observers in the prison noticed what had happened and began to rattle the bars and chant names and calls to us. We knew we had little time before more guards were alerted and called for so we made things quick. Mr Daniels was cowering now on his knees on the gallows. Mr Ironforn had already pulled the noose around his neck as I loosened the chains of the Girl. We thought then that for real justice to prevail, the girl would pull the leaver, reversing the intended roles in today's proceedings.
To my amazement however, once the blindfold and gag removed, the girl fell to her knees in front of Mr Daniels and removed the noose from his neck. She said nothing but simply smiled at him. The grown man snivelling with fear, face caked in snot and tears, now had quickly darkening grey robes that smelt more and more of warm urine.
We made our way quickly out of the prison with haste. At first we were aiming to return to the Annabel but the girl told us that getting into the occupied docking bay was imposable and to follow her to the headquarters of the resistance. We could not argue, we were now in this fight, and the crew of the Annabel do not back down from combat now.
Captain Charles Todd
May 10th
We are safe, for now. My crew acted quickly and precise. Great bunch of lads, had these grey bastards on the ground in seconds. Something happened to me though, the moment the adrenalin filled my veins I was back in the war. No second thought was given to these men’s lives. Not the lives of my men, I knew they would be fine, I mean the live of these here grey bastards. I broke the neck of one by stamping on his throat. This is why I remain on the ships and on missions. There is no room for a man like me in Society Now. What could I ever do? A thug, a copper? Both the same thing, besides I get paid more off world anyhow.
Once the fighting had stopped and that wee lass let the old fella live, we made a speedy retreat. The way was blocked to the Annabel so we had no choice but to follow her. The tunnel that connected to the prison district broke off into a three-way intersection. We headed right, which felt to me like north, but who can tell under water eh?
The first blockade we came to was a grey man checkpoint. While still under our disguises we hid the girl behind us, ready to take our shots under my command. Just as we approached there was a shot from the other side. The fighting had begun once more. The grey guards turned their backs to return fire. They obviously didn’t see us as a threat, being in the grey uniform and all, why would they? Bad idea though lads, made quick work of them. Took them down. We shed our disguise now. No point fighting both sides of this battle. The girl gave a call, some kind of strange bird or whale sound, then it was echoed back to her. A man waved and called us over from a distance away. There was another tunnel at the far side of the dome, which seemed to be some form of trading district as there were nothing but market stalls all around us. As we approached the tunnel more shots rang out from behind us. Another district must have been informed and grey men pushed past a blockade set up to the east. The fighting began once more. I would be lying to myself, and to you if I were to say that some part of me did not enjoy the combat. Well, at least the thrill of it. It felt strangely natural. I could switch of and almost let my body go into auto pilot.
The numbers were great on the side of the grey. They pushed forwards and fanned out, taking cover behind stalls. Fruits, flowers and goods of all kind were exploding and bursting all around us, the air and the entire dome seemed to fill with both the smell and smoke from gun powder and the shrapnel of destroyed goods and food.
Some of the rebels fighting beside us had pushed forward even more. The ammunition on both sides had dried up for this particular battle so blades were drawn and combat continued as hand to hand.
With the noise of gunfire gone we kept following the girl. She was bringing us to what seemed to be a stronghold of the resistance. The dome we entered now seemed to be a financial district maybe? Huge buildings, like those of parliament or offices maybe. There were blue and white flags hanging and draped from the top windows of these buildings. Mr Thomas, ever the social philanthropist, enquired farther. We w
ere told that this was a resistance controlled district. Over the past few days the resistance has been taking over more and more domes. This one was key as it once held the meeting place of Sub York's parliament. A government influenced and controlled by the Grey.
George pushed farther where we were going and how we could help. But the girl simply beckoned s to follow. Heading north east once more we could see through the tunnel we were headed for the destination on the other side. It was a docking bay. The contents and the ship that was docked there was very familiar. It was a ship we had been looking for. The one we followed on Astral. The one that held Danny.
George Thomas
May 11th
I am very fond of our captain, he truly is a great man, but as stubborn as a mule. Once he set eyes on the ship before us his weapon was drawn and he was ready for blood. Lieutenant Hartley managed to calm him down, in a manner that seemed well rehearsed and honed into a fine skill.
I volunteered to speak to the captain as an unbiased party, but captain Todd insisted on accompanying me. The crew were ordered to reinforce the barricaded behind us and keep guard, in case the defences of the government district were breeched.
Captain Todd and I made our way towards the ship. Walking off the ship were a number of Women. Wearing the same uniforms that we saw on Atria. Only now did it dawn on us that the crew of this ship were female the entire time. Who had heard the like? A crew of women, captained by a woman? Preposterous. However, they had managed to out-manoeuvre and best us at every turn. A true crew of skill.
