Sunken Frontier

“We’re going in!”

Water.

“We’re going up!”

Oil.                                                                                            

“We’re going under!”

Blood.

We all drowned in something.

You’re the one who drew first blood. Stabbing through the endless void, all the way to the wound that bled in blue, black, and red.

The lost frontier, only you didn’t know it yet. The abyss you dropped anchor in. The same anchor that held me here, with my head just above the waves. I suppose I could still breathe.

I just wanted a father. But you never gave – you only took.

“Standby for final descent. Repeat, standby for final descent. Proceed to designated areas. Repeat, proceed to designated areas.”

The captain’s message reverberated all around the ship. A symphony of noise that washed over your ears like tides, back and forth. It became a hive of activity as everyone hurried to where they needed to be.

Everyone had a place.

Yours was in the civilian bay. Not with the military guys, not with the drones, not with the builders, not with the governors, not with the scientists, not with the marines. No “oo-rah, get some” for you. You were just another pilgrim. Later on, with everything you did, you made it clear to everyone how much you weren’t just that. You were Edward Bismarck – they’d know that name someday. The same way they knew mine, and that of my son. Bismarck reigned in the deep.

“Secure all safety restraints and loose items.”

You marched like everyone else to the civilian bay, across catwalks and through corridors. The march of thousands of feet made your head hurt more than coming out of cryo did. You couldn’t wait to get some goddamn air.

Not soon enough, the passenger bay blossomed out before you. A massive hangar with multiple levels to contain everyone. A veritable maze of gantries, gangways, catwalks, and colonisers. You hiked your way up to the nearest level before you dropped down to the planet. What’s direction in space anyway?

Rows upon rows of seats, one long bench back-to-back with another, lay ahead. You found an empty seat eventually. The term “seat” was generous – it was two plates of metal and plastic that just folded up and down. More of a car parking spot for your arse. Not that you needed the space. You weren’t the biggest of guys, and you only had your bag with you. You tucked it under the seat, your feet digging into it. All you brought with you – dollar and a dream, was it?

It was a few seconds before you realised you were clutching the seatbelt. That your breathing was a little shallower. That your heart was beating that little bit faster.

So what did you do?

You just gritted your teeth and forced the fear away. Your father didn’t raise you to be scared.

You didn’t raise me to be scared.

I didn’t raise him to be scared.

Besides – there was money to be made down there.

“Prepare for atmosphere entry. Repeat, prepare for atmosphere entry. Descent commencing in t-minus two minutes. Repeat, descent commencing in t-minus two minutes.”

Your stomach felt the ship angling downwards before you realised it was moving. In years to come, you’d be happy to have never done this again.

You could guess how far down you were based on how much the ship creaked. Space is a vacuum – there’s nothing pushing or pulling against a ship up there. But L-2631 was a water planet. All ocean. And the skies were as rough and rocky as the seas.

Hang on to something.

With every shake, creak, plunge, and groan of metal, your feet dug further and further into the bag below the seat.

Once again – what did he raise you not be? What did you raise me not to be? What did I raise him not to be?

This planet wasn’t gonna get the better of you. I believe it was “the will to dominate” – that’s what you called it.

It’s what the planet demanded of you.

It’s what you demanded of me. It’s what I demanded of him.

It was as if the planet was trying to tear the ship rivet from rivet before you landed. In retrospect, you should’ve taken the goddamn hint. What was so bad about the other planets? You know, the ones without…well, everything down there?

And then…it stopped. The stillness was deafening and numbing.

“All personnel to the landing craft. Repeat, all personnel to the landing craft. T-minus ten minutes to drop. Repeat, t-minus ten minutes to drop.”

On your feet again – if you could find them.

Try looking under the seat.

Once again, back on the march. Back to the cacophony of boots on metal, shrieking sirens, and whirring machinery. A foreboding symphony – literal heavy metal. As if the headache wasn’t bad enough already…

Not soon enough, the airlock. Countless of these lined the outside of the deployment bay. Countless lines going in on one side, and out the other.

You marched in time with everyone else into an airlock, its doors hissing and mechanisms whirring.

Red light. Buzzer.

You all waited.

Every step took you closer to the frontier. And you were stuck not moving.

Your feet screamed for movement, muffled by the boots.

Just a little longer…

Green light. Buzzer.

Doors opened, and out into the cavernous underbelly.

You could’ve sworn the ship didn’t look this big on the outside. A fleet of hundreds hanging from the ceiling, and still room to spare. Countless battleships, tankers, carriers, all kinds of gargantuan man-made leviathans. Dotted between them all were hundreds of small craft, ranging from medium-sized research vessels to the smallest PT boats. The smallest plankton to the largest blue whales. No need for sea monsters – we’d already built them up here.

The contingent of colonels, craftspeople, and colonists marched on, spreading out across the countless gantries and catwalks into the countless ships.

“All personnel, we are go for drop in t-minus five minutes. Repeat, go for drop in t-minus five minutes.”

You marched along to a designated gangplank, which led to a battleship – brimming with turrets and flexing its armour plating. Jesus, what were they expecting down there?

You didn’t dare look down as you walked across the gangplank.

And yet, you did.

Straight down, only water. The engines were creating a wash that blew across the ocean’s surface, likely miles across given the size. The ocean itself was a cold navy blue – not exactly inviting.

“Oi – haul ass.” A voice from behind spurred you on. Onto another spring-loaded anchor.

The battleship was marginally more comfortable than the mothership. You were ordered into another passenger bay – but a sight for sore eyes with the addition of cushioning. No hard metal and plastic. Some poor soul was poking the seat cushion like it was a dead animal – checking it was actually there and actually real. Some smart-ass next to him thought it was hilarious.

“That’s for your ass!”

“…What?”

“It’s a long drop!”

Everyone in the know laughed heartily.

“T-minus two minutes to drop. Repeat, t-minus two minutes to drop. Secure all loose items, and make sure your restraints are tight.”

Hang on to something. Down the final stretch, the final dive, to a watery grave – but not in the way you’d expect.

Those two minutes seemed to last an infinity – the same way an abyss stares back at you with endless eyes.

You thought about what you’d come here for. Who you’d come here for.

Yourself, of course.

There’d better be oil down there…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the inevitable. “T-minus drop in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one – go for drop.”

Everything seemed to fall out from under you as the ship dropped.

An abyss of a wait, then slam – right into the water. One could only imagine the splash it made.

That soft cushion didn’t do a damn thing.

“Ah, Christ on a bike…” Some poor bastard further away had been thrown out of his seat. Many, many others were nursing injured backs, heads, arms, legs, everything.

But you? Just a sore back and a serious case of “get me the fuck out of here.”

You had shit to do. So fuck it.

You were on your feet far too early – the ship hadn’t even finished rocking yet. But you stomped off nonetheless, up and out to…water.

As far as the eye could see.

You are not in Kansas anymore.

Everything was divided into two halves – cold navy blue for the ocean, and icy grey for the sky. A ceiling of clouds, ready to burst at any moment. The wind blew, picking up spray off the water as it went along, right into your face. Water from every direction. Get comfortable.

More and more ships were being dropped, the constant impacts making for constant rocky seas. They began linking up with each other, beginning to form what would suggest a city. Pillars dropped off the sides of carriers, down all the way to the seafloor.

The cold air off the ocean flushed out all the hours’ worth of recycled air and cryo fog. It laid an anchor where your heart was supposed to be, and took a hold. This was an undiscovered country from whose bourn you wouldn’t return.

You gazed out over the water, then down into the abyss.

And it looked right back at you. With big, icy, yellow eyes.

First contact, I guess.

It looked right at you – it almost felt like into you as well. You couldn’t tell how big it was from up here, but you could see its blue scales blending in with the water. Then the blue flushed to red.

The ocean hurled a massive, red monster up from the depths and over the ship. A leviathan the colour of blood, with teeth the size of a human.

Bathyacutus Ferox. A Red Basilisk. Big, bad, and mean as hell.

The beast dived back under, then resurfaced through a small freighter. All guns let loose upon it, as it wreaked havoc from below.

You’d swam with sharks, and seen their cold, dead eyes. This was different – this had a fury burning as red as its scales in its eyes. This was a real monster.

We knew a lot about those…

You should’ve run for cover, but you clung to the rail instead. And you couldn’t look away.

With one last roar amid mangled metal and smoke, the great serpent slid back down to the abyss. It might’ve been bleeding, but it clearly wasn’t bothered.

Welcome to the water, buddy boy.

But you took it as a challenge, didn’t you?

Frontiers are to be tamed, aren’t they?

“Everyone, listen up!” Every loudspeaker across the fleet crackled to life, across the still stunned crowds. “We require volunteers for a dive, for resource research. All volunteers report to the ISV Kronos in one hour.”

Dive? Down there? Where that thing just came from?

Resource research, they said…

You decided it was worth the risk.

You didn’t appreciate how the endless wide vistas of the ocean felt until the helmet sealed around your head. It was a good thing you weren’t claustrophobic – but you hadn’t seen anything yet…

Down the back of a fancy new research vessel a submarine sat patiently, yet spring loaded and ready to fire into the abyss.

It did not look big enough for all ten of you. This apparent crack team of…volunteers, stupid enough to brave the abyss. The sub’s captain rounded off the lineup.

“We’re gonna drop to 700 metres down, from there you jump the final 300 from the airlock. You’ll dive to the bottom, then call for an extraction drone when you’re done. You have an oil detector built into your left arm – do remember to activate it when you hit the bottom. The drill on your right arm will help you stab into the vein, and bring back a sample. Your suits are loaded with…rudimentary ballistic capabilities, along with sonic disruptors, and a can of Batman’s shark repellent. Bon voyage.” He spoke with an authority and confidence like he’d known these seas for years already. He was probably that way because he knew he wasn’t going to be hurtling balls-first down the most hostile environment known to humanity.

You looked down at the diving suit – rudimentary indeed. Didn’t colonisation have a budget or something? Did they spend it all on getting over here? These things were tacky, uncomfortable, ugly, and…cheap.

You boarded the sub – squeezed in like the obvious comparison, all you sardines making the sub feel ready to burst. Then down into the waves you were shot, and soon enough it was just you, the other guys, the four walls around you, and the abyss.

It was quieter on the ship – the depths shrieked and beat on the sub all the way down.

A red light came on, dousing the place in the colour. The airlock opened up, and you all stepped through. Once the door was closed, all you could do was wait.

And you certainly hadn’t done enough of that recently…

Then – water. Like a full-body slam, against the door – and out with the current into the abyss.

The jump was the worst part – and this had already gone pretty badly. Nothing but the pitch-blackness of the claustrophobic expanse. The torch on your suit shone a timid light, as if it too was scared. Lord knows what was out there.

Lord did know, in fact – caught in the light only for a second, came the last thing anyone wanted to see. A beast of great power, speed, and hunger – with very, very sharp teeth.

A Windjammer. Like a Velociraptor after a swimming lesson. Distant cousins of Red Basilisks – but all that meanness was crammed into four metres instead of seventy. They liked it in the abyss – and they liked it when humans came down. Easy pickings. But they also liked to come up to the surface, stretch their fins – long enough to fly out of the waves. Nightmares.

You slammed the torch button, covering yourself in darkness. The Windjammer bolted past you, tearing through the next guy over.

The seafloor sped up to meet you, but you didn’t see it coming – looking for Windjammers would do that. You crumpled on the spot, not ready to stand.

Your eyes were beginning to adjust, and you could make out half a metre ahead of you before it faded to black. It was mostly sand, spread out across flat plains with the occasional coral and rock formations dotted about. The oil detector was activated – time to start looking. Look for oil down below, and look for Windjammers up ahead. There were supposed to be oil veins around here somewhere, just below the seafloor.

If any of you found oil, you’d all get a cut of the profits. But the first guy to find it? He’d get a little more than the other guys – and you wanted to be the first. Because then you’d be set – and you’d be the man. You’d spent long enough as a goddamn sardine, time to be the real motherfucking Great White Shark.

You could be the king. He who controls the lifeblood of Lyonesse…wouldn’t let an angry, ‘roided-out barracuda get in his way.

So goddammit, where was the oil…

Perhaps the Windjammers laid off of you to see if you could do it. The environment staring you right in the face and saying “You think you’re up for this? See if you’re the man, really – come on, give it your best shot.”

Then…a rapid series of beeps, from your left arm.

Consider that a shot taken.

You knelt, stabbed the sandy ground with the drill, and…

Bullseye.

The skinniest sliver of black gold snaked its way into your vision.

Out of the darkness, upon the current, came a helmet. One that looked identical to yours – belonging to another diver. But the helmet had no head inside. Only a big, gaping hole in the visor.

Following this came a fellow diver. You couldn’t see his face, only the black visor. But that didn’t matter – what you did notice was the spinning drill on his arm, and another broken helmet in his wake. And he was headed right for you. Guess he wasn’t one for sharing, be it money or glory.

What was it he said…rudimentary ballistic capabilities? Time to find out. You reached for the pistol on your belt, pulled like a gunslinger, and…misfire. Fizzled out.

He swung the drill, trying to slash at your stomach – only just missing you. You reached for the next thing – sonic disruptor. A quick blast put him off his head for long enough to escape. As he shook it off, he reached for his pistol. You darted behind coral, taking cover. Then he stopped – he was out. You bolted for him, as much as you could given the crushing depths. Just as he aimed – you grabbed it. Now you were locked in a wrestle, trying to both push and pull the pistol in the other direction.

But soon enough, you both had a bigger problem. Your little skirmish caught the attention of a Windjammer – bearing right down on you.

You kneed him right in the balls as hard as possible, doubling him over as you hauled arse away. As he keeled over, he squeezed the trigger – the shot skimmed the Windjammer…and hit the open vein.

The both of you were blown backwards as the small spark from the pistol erupted into a raging pillar of fire and fury, in full defiance of the water around. A red and orange exploding against the black and blue. It boiled everything too close, igniting the veins nearby. The Windjammer had been going too fast – right into the ignition. Now it writhed about in the sand, face burnt and scarred to the gills. The mighty serpent laid low.

He swung at you again as you were gazing at the pillar – you decked him right in the visor, enough to leave a crack. Now he had a bigger problem. Desperation took hold, and he tackled you. No thought, just swinging wildly. As you raised your drill to get him off, he grabbed it – so you kicked him off…right into the pillar. He was gone, just like that.

No one had to know. No matter.

You found his drill on the ground – he wouldn’t be needing it anymore. You resumed stabbing into the ground, and the sample was complete. Your coronation awaited in the light. You’d started something now, and you wouldn’t let anything end it.

The growl of the scorched Windjammer reminded you it was still there. A death knell for it, the murderer, and any last decency you had.

Your pistol was working now, not a moment too late. You fired three shots into its head – and a fourth just to be sure.  Call it mercy, call it evil – what it was? The will to dominate. The only drive you needed – and wanted.

These suits were designed for getting down to the floor, not really for getting back. Probably wouldn’t last anyway – considering the pressure, battle damage, heat, cold, rips and tears. You called for an extraction drone, then all you could do was your favourite thing – wait.

The pillar was still going – mesmerising, alluring, dangerous. A miracle of bad things.

The drone came eventually, and you were dragged upwards to the sub. Nothing came for you this time. Maybe they knew you’d killed the Windjammer.

The will to dominate. Bismarck reigned in the deep.

The opening door of the sub invited the water to rush in at full force, taking you with it and slamming you onto the floor. The airlock closed, drained, and the main door opened. Crawling through, you held out a gloved hand – blue with water, red with blood, and black with oil.

Some would’ve called it a baptism. But those are meant to cleanse your sins – not add more.

More and more anchors dropped in your domain soon afterwards. The name Bismarck shone like a lighthouse.

Me? I was more a miniscule buoy floating along in the background amidst the armada.

Years passed. Like the tides, I came in and you went. The water got you in the end.

I’m the one who was born into this – drowned in the depths of oil, water, and blood as my baptism. But the water was cold – because it’s not like you wanted me. You just wanted a continuation of you. Not a son, just another Bismarck.

What else continued? Not minding the blood. You got your wish. I was like you.

But you wouldn't want to hear my story – it wasn't yours. You didn't care much for mine, never gave me the time. I existed, as an extension of you. That was all you needed, as far as you were concerned.

You wouldn’t care about the revolts I had to put down. You wouldn’t care about the deaths I had to deal with. You wouldn’t care about the way our sins came crashing onto him – still an extension of you – like a tsunami in the end.

You’re the one who drowned us.

I remember once, when I was young. I was by the water, staring at the surface and the fish below.

I think I would’ve liked to have gone for a swim. This ocean didn’t have to be tamed, and beaten into submission. We could’ve just left it be. I know everything still would’ve been fine.

I would’ve liked to have swum in the water, but you swam in the oil, so we had to swim in the blood.

I would’ve liked it.

But we sunk that frontier.