Vostok

“We grovel like wurms, wailing for the distant shores..”

Unknown; Lost Epoch circa 2195 a.d

Commonly held philosophies posit that a balance betwixt chaos and harmony exists, and yet; destruction is much simpler than synchronisation in its nature. How long does it take to fell the tree, after ages of growth? Everything is questioned. Doubt all.

~Prologue~

Cataclysm had come sooner than most thought it would, and went almost unnoticed- as a dying spark cast away in the immolation of the broiling universe. The technocratic masturbations of society, greed of the rich, and exploitation of the vulnerable began shortly after the first fall of humankind; and never ceased until its end.

The zealots would claim that the original fall; or first sin of man occurred in the garden, however such beliefs were mostly forgotten after the death of religion in the early 21st century. Some say the next was in our failure to respond to climate change. We had been warned, for years, but our economic lust ultimately overcame our sense of planetary responsibility.

Years of increasingly devastating viral outbreaks, weather patterns, global flooding, drought wars, border disputes and political instability only added to the perfect laundry list of human hell that began shortly after the fallout of COVID-19.

Then came the bombs, oh so many of them. Nobody remembers the exact details of who started that final war, or for what reason. Many claim that resource disputes over the Bezozian/ Teslan space territories were the final straw. So much was lost or destroyed, that the only details passed on were vague memories of choking summers followed by nuclear winters. The final fall of humankind. Fire and ice became our legacy, the ghost of our existence shadowed in smoke and pollution.

Escape to the stars was not an option, there were no bases on distant planets or moons. No beacons of refuge. Not that any of that mattered now. The few factions who survived the end of the world had done so by building underwater systems and life ships, and finding refuge in one of the last unirradiated environments on earth; beneath the ice. More specifically: far below the Antarctic ice cap, in a lake discovered by Russia in the pre pandemic era. A subterranean lake, shrouded in murkiness and mystery.

Lake Vostok..

[They] (...) are like fish who swim in the sea without constraint. Those who live in a prudent and moderate monarchy or aristocracy seem to be in large nets, in which they are caught, though they think themselves free. But those who live in purely despotic States are in such tight nets that they feel themselves to be caught right at the outset..

Charles Montesquieu; ‘My Thoughts’ 1720 a.d

~Log 1~

Circa 2095 a.d; Gagarin Outskirts, Lake Vostok

Stalled

A shudder ran through the ship as its monitors ceased displaying, cloaking the cabin further in sinister blackness. The engines were next to go, with one last faltering lurch.

“Fuck.” Muttered Kait as she finger pecked the controls on the scimpod nav booth. Something wasn't working. These crafts were meant to be reliable. A final metal lifeline against the frigid, inky waters outside. Designed purely for function and long term survival in irradiated zones and later modified to navigate subantarctic oceans, most scim class vessels like the Persied were minimalistic, and had little in the way of “extra” features.

“Chester, where the fuck are you?” She could barely see anything.

“Yes maa’m?” The AI unit indicators flickered in response to her sudden query.

Fortunately, many essential systems like the computers and re-oxygenator ran on a reserve battery- albeit with far reduced capacity.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping”

“Sleeping? Are you shitting me?”

“We need sleep too, you know”

“Yeah, like Windows 95 you do.. I need a diagnostic check right fucking now.”

It was supposed to be a routine mining drop, pick some shit up, put some shit down. Simple. Basic. Yes sir no sir, there and back. The situation Kait now found herself in, would not be envied by even the most experienced shippers with the largest premier class crews. A power outage mid run, midway through a pressure channel. These features were commonplace in the lake- in layman's terms; they were temporary “highways” caused by changing geothermal flows under the ice cap. The key word being changing, in that the tunnels could collapse or shift in a matter of days or even hours. Predictive tracking technology for this was present in every vessel, but was only helpful if the ship was in functional condition. If it was stalled out..

“Engines are stalled.” Chester offered in a voice that was entirely too bubbly for the current moment. Kait made a mental note to readjust his personality settings, if they managed to survive this debacle.

“Thank you, Captain obv.” she scoffed. “Can you please tell me something I don’t know?”

“Last status check on the core lines showed a potential current drop somewhere between turbine three and the battery reserves..”

We just had the capacitors cleaned, thought Kait. So it couldn't be those damned woolly metal hairs then..

“You said batteries right?... Must be a sulphated main battery. Gosh it sounds like I’m doing your job again there, Chest.” It was a good thing she’d actually paid attention during those ship maintenance classes. ‘Old teach’ Fergusson’s lessons had been boring as death.. This was not the time to be reminiscing though.

“Hmmmmmmm” Chester burbled

“Hah I'm just busting your balls pal… Ah shit you don't have any- nevermind.”

“One of these days I may intentionally ground this vessel, young lady” his humanised computer voice remarked over the cockpit system. “Don’t tempt me to take advantage of our current circumstances.”

“Well since only one of us has legs, for lack of balls- I’ll go take a look. We’re already behind schedule.”

“I shall keep the lights on, m’dear.”

As she leaned forward out of her chair, Kait felt the owl’s talons seek a reassuring grip on her left shoulder. She was so comfortable with the bird that she sometimes forgot it was even there. Funny things, pets. Funnier still that someone would keep an avian on a permanently ocean locked vessel that never surfaced, a literal cage within a cage- but others had somehow kept far stranger attractions; particularly successful intrepid bounty traders like Kait. With the exception of the most elite and powerful, the vast majority of ships had small crews; often just a captain and AI system, maybe a crew of up to a dozen. Family size was limited by ship size and support system availability, and children were extremely rare due to the initial burden they placed on other crew members. It was a lonely dark world out there. At least she didn’t keep Humphrey in a bird cage. Being a rare captive breed of barn owl with black plumage; he was too special for that.

The wiry strigiform stretched contentedly and ruffled its charcoal feathers as she rose, swivelling its head round half a compass so that its penetrating copper gaze led towards the engine bay at the ship’s rear, where Kait was imminently bound. Humphrey always seemed one step ahead, in his own way..

Upon entering the core power bay, Kait’s fears were verified by the smell of too-hot plastic and burning solder. Small trails of grey smoke drifted from atop the main battery’s connections. The battery had been serviced just four missions previously. I’m going to castrate those chincy parts traders.. She’d have to pay Ahab a visit. That slimeball.

“Jee-bus man.. This things cooked.” Kait relayed over her headpiece, breathing a long sigh of consternation. “We’re in a bit of a shit pickle here.”

“Current navigational forecasts indicate as much..” bubbled Chester.

Kait wracked her strained, tired head for a solution- which given her brilliance, took about 30 seconds longer than usual. A reminder to maintain her calories, she grabbed a protein shot from the galley vendo-bot on the way back up to gather some tools.

“I think there’s only one way out of this one, I need to jump the reserve battery to the main engine power supply- but if i do that I’ll have to shut you down and navigate home with the manual systems.”

“I recommend you dump cargo as well.”

Hmmm.. Kait mulled. That would be most of their profits from the past week; vamoose. She'd need to take credit to get the battery replaced- if they made it. Still, probably better to be broke and breathing than rotting rich; she reasoned. “Done” she mumbled through gritted teeth as she entered a command and pulled the lever for emergency cargo bail.

It was hours later when a vessel limped, almost undetectably back through the flowgates at underport Gagarin. Chester’s final suggestion to dump cargo had proved prophetic; they’d barely made the final fifty leagues. AI actually did come through in a clutch. She’d have to thank him when the ship was fully operational again, which would be sooner than later if Kait had anything to say about it. Ahab..you’re dead meat, buddy. Sanctuary at last.

~Log 2~

“Games Up”

Captain Ahab spat in the gilded scuzz bucket beside his ancient faux oaken desk. It was of the finest Ikean aesthetic, a priceless relic of a particulate past. Highly coveted. Of course, like the false wood on the desktop, that wasn’t his real name. He wasn’t even really a captain. Those few who knew the man called him Jim. As in James. But that old Jim was dead, as were most of the people that knew him. And so, Ahab it was. Just like the old tale. It was good enough for him, and good enough for those unfortunate enough to fall for his dubious business practises. But Jim; or Ahab rather- ran the only parts shop in Gagarin. Options were limited these days, and competition among merchant pirates was ruthless.

A static buzz echoed around the shop as a coal haired woman with an impressive owl perched atop her shoulder suddenly appeared in front of his desk; punching him square in the face. Ahab felt the cartilage in his nose crunch with an audible snap, his lip of chewn tobacco sailing halfway across the foyer.

“AaAAhhthefuck” he managed in complete shock as blood began dribbling down his chin and fine silk shirts, droplets pattering on the hideous plastic wood desk in before him. Very real blood. The bitch. What was her name again? More importantly, where had she gotten an auto-cloak?

“Bad battery nearly cost me my life last run, asshole” contemned Kait, a look of plain rage painted across her half masked face. “Not to mention the credits. What's a gal gotta do for some fucking respect?”

This of course, was a power play on her part. A bold move. Ahab had connections to both the aristocracy and criminal underworld that most modern post techno-pocalyptic pirates could only dream of. She’d have to make quick repairs and skip port as soon as this vengeful raid was overwith. Higher ups in the Syndicate; a local cartel that controlled most of the parts and trade goods in this region of the lake, would not be pleased.

With two fast clicks of her tongue- some sort of innate command, Humphrey flew forth in a jet of onyx feathers; talons striking Ahab in the face before he had the chance to raise his hands in defence. He screamed in agony, falling backwards from his chair as the bird’s razor claws gouged his right eye with surgical precision.

Kait circled the desk as he fell, booting Ahab hard in the temple as his vision faded from red to black. She left her auto-cloak off as she rounded the corner to the computer safe; the thing was useful as heck but it used a ton of power. If she wanted a clean getaway, Kait needed to save the charges and move with haste. She let out a low whistle, and the owl flew off. He’d be nearby, and would know where to find her later.

Pulling a strange suction cupped device from her belt, she placed it deftly on the locked door of the safe and hit a trigger button on her wrist-link. Burning vapours wafted from around the gadgetry as it melted its way through the armour plating with exactitude. Seconds later, Kait had the safe open, plugging a link cable into a hidden service port. Bitcredits flooded into her e-wallet as Ahab’s blood seeped across the shiny alloyed floor. She’d let him live, but his funds.. Well.

Clamouring footsteps reverberated through the corridor outside. Did that scumbag trigger an alarm somehow?! Or did they see Humph flying away?.. pondered Kait. So fast. She’d barely had a moment to disconnect and re-cloak before a heavily armed trio- two men and a masked woman, burst into the compartment.

“Games up, McCannon” huffed the gruff dude in the lead. “Put down your set and come out now, we’ll make it painless”. He was armed with a finely crafted plasma pistol and had a rifle on his back; with a strong stubbled jawline, ashen hair and face marked from years of combat. Kait didn’t recognise the man.

Who in Hades, and how do they know my name? I need to get the fuck out of here..

Five people were now crammed into the tiny emporium, leaving little room for breathing, let alone escape. Underwater architecture was never a ‘hallmark’ of spatial design, so the fact that Ahab was still lying senseless on the ground didn't really help at all.

Making a mental note of the exit, Kait pulled a home jigged stunflash charge from her belt; setting and throwing it between her assailants in a smooth and practised motion. Inhaling sharply, she closed her eyes and covered her ears, initiating a diving roll towards the door as the small apparatus detonated with a scintillating bang.

She nearly made it. Things took a turn all too quickly. Mid dive- not five feet from the door and fully cloaked, a gambler might’ve said the odds were in her favour, but not today. Somehow, the foe on the far left was unaffected by her stuncharge. As Kait lunged past, the masked woman seemed to sense her and turned with lightning speed; slamming an elbow into the side of her invisible head. She hit the ground hard, landing in a heap just before the shop entrance.

A final thought; Now what? came just as Kait faded from consciousness..

~Log 3~

Jailtime

Kait McCannon awoke on a cold damp floor, the familiar thrum of a depth core engine gently ebbing through her splitting migraine. Could my arms possibly be more asleep? She wondered. They were manacled to a wall rung behind her. So this is a prison? The cell compartment was nearly devoid of light, save the glow of an LED on what she surmised was the door lock mechanism. She had no idea where she was, but the telltale scent of metal sulphates was a bad sign. The drip drop of water was her only indication of passing time. Time. To think. About how she’d completely shit the bed, back in Gagarin. Knowing Ahab, if he hadn’t killed her yet, he’d likely sold her off to some drifters, or maybe the local blood mines. Her. Kait Fucking McCannon. Self made bounty trader extraordinaire. Great. Hopefully Humphrey’s ok. Being separated from the bird always made her a bit anxious. She tried not to worry about how she may never see him or her ship again. At least she was still alive, somehow. It had been a tough go with the contracts as of late, and although she came from a good family crew, she hadn’t seen them in years. Not since.. She didn’t want to think about what had happened. No one would be coming to bail her out of this one.

As the drip drop of water continued, backed only by the low thrumming; Kait’s mind drifted in and out of slumber. She dreamt in scattered visions of her past, her life here in the lake. Her voyaging had taken her far from her birthplace at the opposite easterly side of Vostok. The bustling underport of New Moscow. Part of her missed it like crazy sometimes, but not anymore. Those memories were best kept walled off. Although it wasn’t nearly as big as the contaminated outerworld, Antarctica still boasted an area well over five million square miles. Lake Vostok had originally been much smaller when it was first found, but the melting of polar ice in years previous had greatly expanded its original size. Global catastrophe had further unsettled and displaced the ice, creating the area now known as Greater Vostok. In the near fifty years since humanity’s collapse- just short of two generations, the resolute survivors had constructed a number of stationary life ships and interconnected tunnel systems, each of which had become akin to a modern, highly cramped, city. There were seven of these major underports in Greater Vostok, the largest of which was still the original settlement, Vostok City. Many more independent mining operations and smallport towns lay scattered throughout the under-ice. The aristocracy controlled most of the influence, and was in constant conflict both with itself internally, and the pirate cartels. Other minor criminal and feudal factions fought for the scraps. A dog eats dog world.. or should one say fish eats fish?

The sliding of the lock bolt roused Kait with a start. A guard stood in the doorway, backlit by a sickly green light. She was unchained from the wall and hauled to her feet with what felt like uncanny strength. Being weak and dehydrated amplified this sensation of near helplessness.

“Get a move on” ordered the guard in a rough tone. The man from Ahab’s emporium. She realised. He shoved her roughly towards the door.

It was only then that Kait noticed there was another prisoner in the cell. A gaunt old man in soiled seagear. Well that's unnerving. Has he been here the whole time?! Judging by his appearance he had been; for a while. He glanced up at her with knowing eyes.. Fergusson!?!

She was ushered into the corridor and through a sealed hatch before either could react. Probably for the best- but her mind raced, a flood of emotions washing over her. What is he doing.. Here? Wherever here is..

To be continued...