by C. Mahood
The crew of the Annabel continued to aid in every way, but spent every second of free time repairing the ship and even took time for a private ceremony in which Lieutenant Hartley was elected as captain, to take command of the Annabel.
The men's spirits were lifted, although, Captain Hartley and George Thomas were both very different men now. Captain Hartley was filled with rage, desire for vengeance and the lust for blood. His demeanour had changed also. He walked with a faster step. His chest puffed and shoulders wide. His fists were always clenched. His teeth always grinding. He was an avatar of rage and hatred for the grey men. I believe he will not stop the fight until it is brought to them.
George Thomas however is the opposite. His pompous attitude had left him. He has been humbled by his experiences here. He feels no more superior to anyone, and acts as such. He lay down his rapier during the ceremony for Hartley. The Sword was passed to his captain as a sign of respect but also to signify Mr Thomas' decision to leave the crew. He had made the decision to remain here. The Annabel is near completion of repairs and aims to depart by the week’s end. George Thomas however feels the calling to stay. He told me that he has no reason to return. All of his possessions and residences are known to the Grey men now. He believes he would be returning to a prison cell, instead of a home. Filled with questioning and even interrogation. He tells me he would be best used here, but I suspect there is another reason for his decision to remain. I will discuss this with him at a further date, but I think it has to do with the symbols he carries and the hunt for the winged man. I am sure it will not be long before he asks me to take him and show him the truth.
I shall not pry, but instead wait for the request.
Captain Steven Hartley
June 2nd
It has been a while since I have written in the blasted journal. Much has happened. Must has yet to happen. It is a pointless exercise for me to scribe my feeling and memories, as I am sure to never forget what has happened, I see only value in putting my words on paper for you, the reader. To know just how things transpired.
The time came, shortly after the news of Charles' sacrifice, to vote a new captain. I may have had rank but the crew wanted to feel as though they gave me the honour. I played along. There was a display, men bowed, men spoke pretty words, George Thomas gave up his weapon to me. As a sign of respect apparently, but I saw it only as weakness. He has tasted battle and loss for the first time so the slimy little toad had left the crew of fear. I am disappointed in him. I thought he were to be with this crew until the end. Which is closer than he may think. He means to go on a “spiritual journey” to find the “God” they all speak of, this winged man. Where was he when the districts collapsed? Where was he when women and children were drowned in the name of religion? Where was he when my mentor and dearest friend was…. It is pointless. Words mean nothing now. Only action matters. In three days we take the battle to Cogburn. We will Stop the viral spread of the grey men on our way. The I.D.B will fall in our wake. No warning will be given, no chances taken. Then I shall take the vengeance of the Annabel unto the capitol. The IDLSSW Will burn. No one can sway my sights. The Grey men will tremble at the name of Charles Todd and Steven Hartley.
George Thomas
June 3rd
The Friendship that I once had with Steven Hartley has come to an end. I offered him none but the uppermost respect and gratitude. I honoured him with my blade, a most prized possession of mine. I hoped that he would see my decision to stay and pursue the winged man as my duty. He however has chosen a road of grief and madness. His eyes see no future and his heart sees no hope. He is blinded by vengeance. He sees my departure from the crew as weakness. He has no longer a desire for exploration, a will and want for knowledge and understanding. I have seen the City of Sub-York grow and become a true beacon. One that displays the strength and power of human kind. A race of resilient and strong people. We have rebuilt a city to a place where power is shared, as is the wealth. The citizens put stock in progression and sustainability, rather than possessions, emotion and personal gain. This place has become everything that Captain Hartley is not. He oversees only the repairs of the Annabel. He cares not for the people here. He resents this place. He relates it only to the death of Captain Todd. He sees nothing. For that I have no time. He believes that vengeance will bring him peace, in fact, I do not think he has thought that far ahead. I do not know what he plans but I fear for him, the crew, the ship and the victims he leaves in his wake.
As for myself, I have the intention of hunting this winged man. For it is in his name than so many have killed, murdered, sacrificed and died. I know that Maria knows what I have. The symbols that I possess will, I believe, lead us directly to him. A dimension that he calls home, some may call Nirvana, some may call heaven. I call it the end of a journey, the solution to an equation, the answer to a problem, the place of truth.
I hope to meet with him. If I do, I desire to learn. I want to truly know how human kind can become so good. Maria's crew, the people on Astraddle, the people here in Sub-York. They all believe in the winged man. Look how they have overcome and strived for greatness.
I shall Approach Maria in the morning to discuss our plans.
The Annabel will depart tomorrow evening.
Captain Steven Hartley
June 4th
We have departed. Sub-York is behind us and we rise now to the surface. Bill took the cannons from the grey men's defensive positions and fixed them to our broadside. We now have a fully operational 16-gun warship. The Annabel has also been renamed to “Todd's Vengeance” a much more fitting name. Captaining the ship, he once captained felt wrong. This is a different form of mission than the Annabel was ever meant for. The Todd's Vengeance is a ship meant for exactly its name sake. We will pierce the rift soon enough then the firing capabilities will be tested. Bill Connected the firing pins of the cannons to an electric current. Meaning one simple leaver pull can fire all sixteen guns at once or just the seven on port or starboard, or the two chase cannons on the bow. I shook the hand of Captain Maria. I did not however shake the hand of Mr Thomas. The crew all treated him like a brother. Weak fools. I see him for the weasel that he is. Hiding his fear behind the story of exploration. I am not afraid to do what needs to be done. I will see the Grey men cower, then die. I will show them what religion brings. I will show them that their faith in money, greed and power will not save them from the angry hearts of angry men.
George Thomas
June 6th
The “Todd's Vengeance” Left two days ago. No words were exchanged between myself and Captain Hartley. I pity him, but more so I pity the crew, my brothers that I have lives, ate, drank, and fought with. They do not know what the captain will lead them to. I fear I shall never see them again. I know in my heart however that I will never see Steven again. He is lost to me and his mind loss of reason.
I was invited aboard the winged lady moments after the Todd's vengeance departed, where I spoke to Captain Maria about the plans and co-ordinates I had with me. The translation of the Enocian symbols show clear co-ordinates to the dominion of the winged man. She warned me that no one has been here before. No one has seen the winged man, and there is undoubtedly unknown danger in that dimension. She warned me that seeing such power, such strength and such light could kill me. Her words were, “no man can glimpse into the mind of true God, True greatness and peace, and expect to be unchanged. You will not be the same man you were before you enter.”
To say the fear of the unknown is not like a rush of excitement and drive would be a lie. I Could not be more certain that this is where I need to go.
Maria Agreed that we would depart immediately, the co-ordinates will be input, once we pass through the rift. We will need to re-direct from the I.D.B, but we will only need to pierce the rift there for seconds.
I hope Captain Hartley has not done anything too foolish!
Captain Maria Jones
June 7th
After we made pla
ns to depart, I offered some of my crew the chance to stay here, we needed only a navigator, a helmsman, two engineers and myself. Mr Thomas could fill one of those roles as a navigator, I needed only three of the 12 crew. Six volunteered to remain on Sub-York to help with the reconstruction. I do not resent them or hold any emotion other than respect and friendship towards them. They stay, not out of fear, but of desire to help. Something I have always believed my crew to hold important.
The rest of us readied the ship and launched. There was no launch party or celebration, just a simple “see you soon” called from the deck.
Pushing on with haste was the game we played. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as to what Captain Hartley was planning or currently undertaking.
My thoughts were confirmed. Oh how they were confirmed. Never before had I wanted to be incorrect. Once we emerged from the rift tunnel we had emerged into hell. A think smog filled the air. Ash, bellowing black smoke and gunpowder would choke the lungs of a thousand men. The I.D.B was now pitching downwards at the stern. The rear motor was exhuming both sparks and smoke, the propellers and turbines had stopped and flames could be seen as we passed. There was panic aboard the I.D.B. Weapons were firing, aiming upwards. Bodies littered the decks, the roofs of the many buildings were cracked, or littered with holes. The main Rift entrances had been destroyed but two still remained open. Through the smoke and dust we pressed onwards toward the open gate. George Thomas entered our destination and confirmed it on the dials. The course was set. We were to enter the northern gate when we caught site of the heart of the battle. There, hovering less that one hundred feet above the main leisure deck, firing downward with the broadside cannons, was the “Todd's vengeance” Captain Hartley must not have noticed us as firing had not ceased. Mr Thomas had lost all composure, screaming and banging his fists against the glass portholes and main front window. He had developed an instant hatred. These two men were so very different. If given the opportunity I am sure a duel would be on the cards. One cannot abide the other and both men would see the other dead now, I am sure.
We did not stop. The Rift gate approached and we entered full speed. The journey in the rift was different. The colours faded to white and the speed seemed to stop. We felt as though we were floating until we emerged on the other side.
Piercing the surface, we began to slowly sail into the brightness. The heat was overwhelming. Humid and close air made it difficult to breathe. My skin felt tight and my lips dry. It was difficult to keep my eyes open for longer than a few seconds before I had to blink, or rub my tears from my lashes. We descended to near ground level. Floating only feet from the earth. As our vision returned and eyes adjusted to our surroundings we could see nothing but sand. A dark red and orange glow was all I saw at first. Then like wiping raindrops from a windowpane, things became clear as crystal. Sand and dust surrounded us. In all directions. Endless ocean of grains of despair. From the rising dunes, I saw shapes. Square and oval shapes popping out of the surface. Buildings! Old, destroyed buildings. As far as I could see. Like looking once into the abyss of space, the longer and harder you stared, the more appears viable. We seemed to have come upon a dimension, long since dead. A city in an empty planet. The dials bleeped and we were reaching our final destination. The holy grail of our time.
George Thomas
June 9th
I cannot fathom the disgust I feel for what my eyes have witnessed, only moments ago.
The Annabel, now called the Todd's Vengeance, was opening fire on innocent people and crews on the I.D.B. Under the command of Hartley. Grief of the loss of Captain Todd had warped him into a villain. He has become what he means to destroy. His hatred for the Grey men has corrupted his heart, infected his soul like a cancerous virus, coursing through his cold dead heart. Captain Maria Jones avoided eye line of the Todd's vengeance very well. We only caught site of the cause of the destruction as we pierced the veil of the rift gate. Before we could clearly see what happening or make contact we had entered the tunnel of light. This was my first Rift journey in which I did not enjoy the sight. My mind was and still occupied and troubled by the ship and crew I once felt part of. It hurts me deeply to imagine those crew men on board, following orders, when I know many of them would object if not so loyal. My mind was fixed heavily on them, until we emerged at our destination. Blinding light that seared the retinas. Vision was imposable, like staring into the centre of twelve suns. Once it became clear we could see all around us. I made my way to the deck to oversee the terrain. My initial thought was about the cartography how impossible it would be to draw a map for a dessert. It all looked the same, that was until I saw the buildings. Covered in sand, I am sure there are many underneath but there were still some that protruded. As we passed overhead we could see two large towers side by side, and old look to them. Not a far throw from the buildings in the Gothic period back home. It had a better workmanship however. Then from a high mound we saw what looked like a large tower with a clock, with four faces. The building beside it looked like a hall and the dude sloped down into what looked like a long-since dried riverbed. The ship descended as we passed. From a chain hung a sign, metres from the ground. I climbed the exterior ladder to the lower mooring hatch. With outstretched arms I managed to get hold of the sign and pull it towards myself, breaking it with a crunch from its rushed hinge and back into my arms. When I wiped the thick dirt from the sign I saw a red circle, in it was a blue rectangle with white writing. The words seemed to spell Westminster. This must be the name of the city here? It has never been on any of our dimension maps or in the great library. I have never heard of such a country. Carrying on we passed buildings shaped like vegetables, and the largest Ferris wheel I had ever seen. It was only half a wheel as the other half was buried under the sand. But beautiful none the less.
I was called to the bridge by the captain and informed of the signals we were getting. We were nearing the exact location. As we drew closer the beep and alert bells rang in closer succession. Until finally one constant drone of an alert was sounded. Killing the engines, we slowly drifted downwards. Below us was a rounded top, like a dome. The lines were dropped and we descended slowly down. There was an area, the size of a small cricket green to either side of the dome. One was clear enough for us to make landing. The bay doors opened and we made our way onto the roof. The ash was thick, like snow, as we walked the ash simply blew under us, the crunch under our feet was the scorched sand. scraping on our boots and working its way, somehow in between our toes. The entire crew had suited up and were accompany me to the centre. There was a path that looked as though it had been trodden many times. Recently too.
“Come on, this way” Maria barged past me. She walked over to the side of the gigantic looming dome, put her hands under a large, curved piece of greening metal, lifted it and slid it to the side. It seemed like the blackest black inside. Darker than the deepest space. How was that possible? She wanted me to go INTO it as well?
“You have been here before then yes?” I questioned as I made my way slowly to the opening.
“Many times, this is where you will learn the truth of the grey man, Mr Thomas” She said as she reached in and pulled from the darkness a section of rope. It was Obviously attached to the top on the interior of the building. I was to slide down this, for God knows how long until I reached a bottom, I assumed. The darkness could go on forever, for all I knew.
“You have come this far; you want to know the truth don’t you? Then grab the rope and get your answers!” The rope was thrust into my hands. Maria Smiled at me, and before I had time to really consider the options I found myself sliding down the rope. My hands beginning to burn from inside the gloves, the material on my trousers growing this from the friction too. The light from behind and above me was disappearing fast. I felt as though I was descending into a nightmare, or oblivion. My eyes were blinded by the darkness. I could not see anything but I felt the enormity of the structure I was in from the sound of my gloves and body agains
t the rope. The sound was bouncing back at me from stone walls and marvel floors. This giant place felt colder as I descended further. Eventually, with a sudden shock my boots touched solid ground. My legs gave way under my weight and through shock as I landed. My body was startled but not as much as my mind. I felt pain in my feet but I think it was just the surprise of the contact. I must have been going extremely slow down the rope as my grip was as tight as that of a cat on the edge of a bathtub.
My eyes had not adjusted, not even slightly, but I could sense movement. I just sat there for the longest time. I heard whispers, feet shuffling then suddenly like a snap a match was scraped across some flint paper and a small flame seemed to float in front of me. It was held by a finger and a thumb. My pupils narrowed and my eyes focused, following the match as it rose up now to an oil soaked cloth bound onto a wooden stick. The torch illuminated and before me stood seven figures. All in Grey robes. All had hoods covering their faces, they had hands clasped together inside the giant sleeves in front of them. With heads bowed they all took a step backwards, in unison. Except one. He took a step forward, lifted back his hood to show an old bald head, Dark brown skin was wrinkling but his face was hidden behind the whitest beard I had ever seen. He smiled at me, A wide grin, teeth like ivory from ear to ear.
“Welcome Traveller, I am Noah, One of the record keepers. You must be eager to meet the Winged man?” He helped me to my feet. Words failed me, in fact, it seemed the ability to make any noise failed me. I simply obeyed, and followed. We began to walk. We walked past the other six figures, who all bowed as we passed. After a few paces I made myself cough, for no other reason than to know if I could still make sounds. The cough had cleared my throat so I began with the first question that came to my mind.
