Things of the Water

Even as they unbuckled Nemo from his excursion suit, he felt the Nautilus ascending. "Secure the moon pool." Even as he leapt to the deck, Vasquez and Miko worked to swing the immense plate into place. While it wouldn't cause their progress any issues, there was a chance some creature could take advantage of the opening.

The captain flew past crew members to his bridge. Klaxons sounded throughout the ship. Soon there wouldn't be anyone in the halls. You would either be at your duty station, or in your bunks. In minutes, he stood, looking out the front view port in a robe brought to him by the steward. Around him, men and women worked at their tasks. Moving up from the depths at their current speed wasn't perilous on its own, but every set of eyes looked for any creature large enough to do them harm, if they encountered it. Given the lack of natural light, they relied on a mix of sonar and the massive lanterns on the Nautilus' prow.

There were also crew members monitoring from the aft of the ship. An observation deck there, in addition to rear facing sonar, would give them some warning if the creature followed. Weapons crews made sure all the torpedo bays were full and that the lightning canon was fully charged. The hum of people working was subdued compared to its usual volume, as though everyone knew how hard their captain was thinking.

He'd seen nothing like this thing. At least not in person. Still, some half-remembered tidbit nagged at his subconscious mind. When it began to take shape in his memory, he shook his head. "No. It's not possible." He muttered the words as though they were a prayer. He hurried to the large desk where he saw while on the bridge. It only had a few of his most used books. In addition there were some new volumes he perused in what little leisure time he had. It was there in which he found his memory in all of its horrible glory.

The treatise in question, Things of the Water, was a translation of a much older work called Cthäat Aquadingen. This particular translation was done by a Doctor Skinner. He knew little about the man, other than the rumor that he’d gone mad upon its completion. The book concerned itself with what seemed to Nemo like fantasies. He couldn't deny the similarities though between the woodcut in the book and the thing which had eaten his crewman.

No name was given nor information about its nature explained anywhere in the book he could see. Under the illustration was simply the note “tentacled horror”. According to the few entries the book did have on it, the horror had been seen by sailors off and on for centuries. Nemo imagined that anyone who read this would assume it was a misidentification of a squid or octopus.

Having seen the creature himself, he couldn’t deny it was no normal beast. The eyes, that horrid mouth, and a lack of any symmetry made up nothing less than a breathing nightmare. If the book had the right of this, then what else was it correct about? He put the book down and rested his head in his hands. Where there was one creature like this, there were no doubt more. He would devote some of his vast resources to finding out what other beings haunting Skinner’s book could also be found in his domain. He owed nothing to the men and women above the waves, but these abominations should be hunted down and killed, lest they breed.

He stood and walked over to his command chair. “”Helm, make all speed for Tabor. Keep us at periscope depth.” Once back at his base of operations he could send out word. Perhaps this Dr. Skinner wasn’t mad. It could be he was still alive. He would have that man in front of him if at all possible. There would be answers and a reckoning for his lost crew member.  

#horror, #ScottRoche, #Cthulu, #Nemo, #19thCentury, #SciFi, #Verne, #Lovecraft

Art Source: Ace of Cups by Brass And Steam at Deviant Art
Story and Characters (c)/by Scott Roche

Nemo's Revenge

"Captain, we have an alarm coming from Melchior's air hose." The announcement wasn't strictly necessary, given that the alarm was audible throughout the bridge of the unique vessel.

Nemo made a slashing motion, a perpetual scowl on his bearded face. He stroked the length of black hair. After the alert was silenced, he spoke crisply to Keller. "Let us know if any of the other men have him in sight." He sat on the throne dominating this section of the bridge. From here, lights and paper tape gave him immediate knowledge of the Nautilus's current whereabouts, status, and any other vital statistics he needed. With the press of a button, he connected to the moon pool. "Ready three heavy suits, including my own."

"Aye, captain." Rasheed answer was instantaneous.

"Well, Keller? Any word?" His hand had moved from beard to blade as he fingered the hilt of one of the many daggers he wore on his person.

"Aye, captain. There was an unusual sighting in Melchior's last known position. The crewman who saw it suspects it may be a squid."  

Nemo grunted. It was unlikely to be any species of squid at this depth and in this part of the Pacific. Still, there was a possibility. His knowledge of the deeps was as good if not better than any man alive, but there was so much to yet learn. "I will be stepping out to see this myself." He thumbed the button again. "Rasheed, I will be in the moon pool in three minutes. Make sure the crewmen on rotation are ready to go. Recall the workers."

"Aye, Captain. They're suiting up now."

Nemo smiled and made a note to increase Rasheed's share for this month. He rose from his throne and walked down the dais to the main floor. Glass windows looked out into the deeps and gave them a hundred and eighty degree spherical view. Without specially crafted lights and a coating that amplified those lights entering the windows, it would be impossible to see anything more than a few inches in front of them. He couldn't see where his men worked, but they would be there in minutes. "All ahead half power. Make for Melchior's last known position. Mister Tim's, you have the bridge."

Moving as quickly as he could, Nemo headed for the moon pool. He could make it there in two minutes under the best of conditions. Even in pitch black, he could be there in five. He'd designed this craft and had a hand in its construction. A similar level of knowledge was required of every man and woman on board. As he moved, he began to undo the buckles on the leather harness he wore and the button on his shirt. By the time he arrived at the moon pool, he was shirtless in seconds, brown skin shining from the sweat of exertion. Scars criss crossed his chest, including a number of strange, puckered marks more than an inch across. The damage was old, but the memories of how he got them were keen. If this was a squid or some similar cephalopod, and one large enough to attack a dive suit and rip it free from its moorings, the beast would be formidable.  

Two of the heavy suits, with their own air tanks, armor, and sharp taloned claspers stood ready. Their pilots, Vasquez and Miko, were buttoning down the glass domes that would encircle their heads. Rasheed had Nemo's personal suit ready. The armor and air tanks were intended for longer and deeper dives. It also had a few built in weapons the other suits did not. In seconds, all he wore was his turban and undergarments.

With the strength and speed of a man half his age, he clambered up the built in handholds and stepped into the suit's harness. Rasheed was already closing the section Nemo couldn't on his own. In the middle of the room a pool ten feet across was ready for them to step into. Before he pulled the dome on over his still covered head, he shouted. "Are we close to where the creature was spotted?"

"Aye, captain. By the time you are ready to step out, we will have come to a full stop." According to his word, a shuddering announced the engine's reversal.

Nemo pulled his helmet down and sealed himself off from the ship. Miko and Vasquez were already moving to the well. "Sailors, be ready for anything. Melchior may have been taken by a cephalopod of some kind. But we don't know for sure." he knew the sailors would hear him over their wireless systems. As long as they were within fifty yards of one another, no hardline was needed for communication.

"Aye, captain." The answers were in synch, though Miko's higher pitched voice was easy to discern. The slid into the water using short ramps. The suits wouldn't allow them to swim, but they would be able to walk and take bounding leaps thanks to a clever spring system built into the exoskeletons. Thanks to their oxygen cylinders, they were untethered from the ship save for spare lines they could use in recovery or to be recovered.

Nemo was a few seconds behind them. As soon as water and pressure had him in its icy grip, he activated his suit's lights. He was ready to be amazed by the life that survived even at this depth, but nothing shone back at him except the reflecting patches from the suits Miko and Vasquez wore.

He reached down to his hip and freed the harpoon gun. It held six barbed projectiles, the length of his forearm. With it, he tracked back and forth.

“Movement. Three o’clock..” Miko barked.

His eyes went to the noted spot and just outside of their vision, something did appear to be moving. “Go towards it but stay close together.”

They began moving as a unit. At first, Nemo though they found Melchior, but it was only the top half of his suit. Judging by the state of where it stopped and the sea began, whatever had cut it in two did so messily. Blood and viscera swirled in the water and stained the leather.

To his crewmembers’ credit, neither reacted with the disgust a surface dweller might. At least not audibly. “Attach a line to that and ready it to be retrieved.”

Miko hopped forward to follow the order.

Vasquez watched the area around in case she needed any assistance.   

“The suit’s empty, captain.” The woman clipped one of her spare cables to a heavy steel ring sewn into the suit. With two sharp tugs, she signaled the ship to begin retrieval.

Nemo watched the suit go by. Melchior would be missed. His death would not go unavenged if they found the creature that did this. “Spread out, but stay in wireless range. See if we can locate and salvage any other part of his suit.”

Without question, the followed his orders. Soon, all he could see where the reflections and the occasional sweep of yellow light. He began his own observations. The ocean floor here was covered in silt with the occasional rock or bit of coral protruding. There were rivers of current under the surface and Nemo learned to read them when he was a lad. The silt had been disturbed by something massive. A being that moved like no man.

When the eye opened, spoiling the illusion, Nemo was ready. He brought the barrel of his harpoon gun up and triggered it.

The barbed projectile hit the orb dead center. Viscous fluid, denser than the water around it, spilled onto the things skin. Now that flesh was the color of a long drowned sailor, the bulk of it was visible.

Nemo had seen many things in his long life. He’d killed those things when he had to. He hoped he could kill this one. It was as unlike any squid he’d seen as it was like it. It had a similar shape and the tentacles. Rather than having eight arms and two claspers, this thing had dozens and all of varying lengths and girth. There were three more eyes, each one its own color, one of those a color he had no name for. The mouth at the center of all this reminded him of a whirlpool with teeth made of broken ships.

Without thinking further, he fired the remainder of his harpoons at the eyes he could see. “Miko. Vasquez. To me. Nautilus, take aim on this thing and fire.”

Nemo bounded backwards towards the ship as best he could.

The thing’s arms whipped the sea into a froth of sand and bubbles. Black blood competed with the water around it for darkness.

A series of vibrations made Nemo’s teeth rattle in his skull. The teeth became visible in the form of a rare smile. “Let’s see if you can burn.”

Roses of light and fire bloomed in front of him. A chemical compound, invented by a Chinese man of Nemo’s acquaintance, on contact with the seawater became hot enough to burn even at this depth and for a time could split the water into its component parts.

The scream came from the center of the maelstrom and threatened to burst the eardrums of all those present.

Without waiting around to see, Nemo hauled on the cords binding him to his ship three times. Soon, he and his crew were being pulled home. As they sped backwards through the water, Nemo barked orders. “Prepare to make for the surface. Bring all guns to bear. If anything moves, boil the sea around it.”

#horror, #ScottRoche, #Cthulu, #Nemo, #19thCentury, #SciFi, #Verne, #Lovecraft

Art Source: Hunter 2 by tooth-w at Deviant Art
Story and Characters (c)/by Scott Roche

Death From The Deeps

Melchior scanned the floor of the seabed with the cyclopean faceplate of his diving helm. The sturdily designed suit kept the waters at bay so he could do his job, but the whole rig did a number on his peripheral vision. He always had a tickling suspicion in the back of his mind that someone or something was alway just behind him. Some days it was worse than others. Today was a particularly bad one.

None of those fears could keep him from his work, though. The Captain was as mad as the maddest hatter. There was no room for those who didn’t carry their weight. Whether the need was food, treasure, or collecting unique sea life to fill the banks of aquariums - his will was absolute.  

He was about to turn around and head back, when he saw the tentacle flicker on the right edge of his vision. There was no denying his feelings this time.

His hand went to the thick blade secured at his waist. Clumsy gloves kept him from any fine manipulation, but all he had to do was get his fingers through the loop of metal. Then he could close his hand and magnetic clamps would engage. It would make the knife difficult for anyone to rip away. Once free from its scabbard, he turned as quickly as he could. That was no easy feet, dressed as he was and at the present depth.

Yellow lights, surrounding his porthole view, tracked from the sea floor and up into the water which swirled around him. His own breathing echoed in his ears as panic threatened to take hold of him. An experienced diver of many years, he knew that would kill him before this creature, whatever it was. His quickest movement was slowed by the water's death grip.

One of the thicker tentacles wrapped around his waist. Even through the layers of canvas and leather, he could feel the crushing grip.

That the tentacle was so close to his knife belt may have saved him from death by constriction. He brought the knife down towards the grasping arm. A dark haze filled the water around him, reducing visibility even further. The pressure around his middle slackened. With his left hand, he tugged on the rope and hose, his only link to the ship. Three tugs meant "pull me the hell in, now".

Arms moving, his body kept spinning. Once the motion began, it was hard to shift. When he saw the eye, he wanted to do nothing else but unsee it. A swirl of fiery colors made it stand out from the surrounding blue green. The thing's blood did little to cloud the hellish light of that immense orb.

Breathing came hard and fast now, but more from panic than exertion. They had to pull him back from here. The third tug found the rope and hose rapidly slackening. Water began bubbling into his air hose. His left hand went to a valve he couldn't see. It turned off the feed of what would soon be nothing but sea water. The part of his brain still operating on survival instinct knew he only had three minutes of sweet air, before he began breathing his own exhalations.

He screamed when he saw the massive maw, not a beak but a vortex of gnashing bone splinters. Nothing in nature bore this thing to term.

His knife hand slashed frantically at incoming tentacles, while his left hand continued to work at his only salvation. It ripped the cord free from his waist, loosening the weights at his feet. He kicked like a dervish, struggling for a ship that seemed like it waited in the next galaxy.

A tentacle grabbed at his foot, well beyond the reach of his knife. It had him and began to draw him towards the nightmare mouth.

His breathing became more and more ragged. The edges of his vision began to cloud. Frantic, his left hand beat at the glass eye separating him from the cold embrace of the sea. The pane shattered and shards pierced his skin. Frigid, salty water screamed into his wounds and he opened his mouth to suck in the death giving liquid. It would be merciful compared to what awaited below. The last thing he felt was tearing as the creature bit through his knee.

#horror, #ScottRoche, #Cthulu, #Nemo, #19thCentury, #SciFi, #Verne, #Lovecraft

Art Source: Into the Depths by preilly at Deviant Art
Story and Characters (c)/by Scott Roche