Apocalypse Redux

Chapter 284: Once More Into the Deep

Chapter 284: Once More Into the Deep

All around Isaac, there was nothing. Just an endless sea of blackness and, well, seawater. Oh, and there was the usual array of microscopic life suspended in the water, silt, sand particles, and the like, but that wasn’t really something “solid”.

Several kilometers underwater, in the Marianna Trench, in the middle of the night, on a new moon.

Isaac wasn’t entirely certain if the effect had been intended or if it was just a happy little accident that things had gotten this hard to see through, but it was certainly creepy.

Either way, it wasn’t like Isaac was going to be hindered in the least by a lack of light, he could still see a little even without his [Aura], so if this was an ambush, it was a damn crappy one.

But where the hell was the ship? Sure, he’d been early, but he’d now also been here long enough that his contact was now late.

With a sigh that echoed strangely in the water, Isaac pulled his thankfully waterproof phone from his storage and did some paperwork … for about two seconds.

The Flying Dutchman had changed significantly since he’d last seen it. It was still a Frankensteinish combination of countless lesser vessels from every era. A ram that might have once belonged to a Roman Trireme, armor plating behind it that looked to have been forged at some point in the 20th century, Isaac suspected that stuff had come from the battle of Jutland, tattered and partially rotten sails that were nonetheless fully functional, age-of-sale era cannons, more modern turreted guns, even a pair of missile launchers, all combined a manner that didn’t seem slapdash in the slightest.

Small amounts of glowing lichen, or maybe algae, strategically decorated the vessel both as a source of illumination and to add an intimidation factor that was hard to understate.

“Permission to come aboard?” Isaac called out, the reply of “Granted,” coming in less than a second.

His phone disappeared as he swam the rest of the way, and the Dutchman’s “allows for normal movement” field activated as he set his feet on the deck. The pseudo-gravity of the deck canceling out the weightlessness that normally accompanied being underwater, and both the pull of the current and drag of the water the ship was moving through ceased affecting him.

The first officer joined him after ten seconds and asked him to wait in the bow of the ship, where he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way. Typical for being aboard a ship. The sailors did what they did, and anyone else was expected to stay the hell out of the way.

Only once the Flying Dutchman had come to a dead stop, hanging in the middle of the dark ocean, waiting, did Davy Jones approach him.

The man had changed since Isaac had last seen him.

Once upon a name, he’d been an Englishman by the name of Johnathan Frye, a regular human, and then he’d begun probing the depths of both history and the ocean, taking the mantle of Davy Jones once he’d gotten the [Class].

Two years ago, when they’d first met in this timeline, Jones had looked like a corpse that had been underwater for days but less disgusting, hair and beard artfully woven.

But today, he looked far better, with pale yet healthy skin, eyes an unnaturally dark blue, and a short-cropped beard that still contained pearls and corals for decoration.

“Dr. Thoma, it’s been a while,” Jones greeted.

“Things have been somewhat crazy for a while,” Isaac shrugged, “I hope you received my gifts?”

“They were appreciated,” Jones nodded, “We’d have helped for nothing, though. Those people … they were a threat to the world as a whole.”

“Taking selfless actions for granted is a quick way for people to stop being selfless,” Isaac pointed out.

“Yes, but plenty of people don’t feel like giving gifts or rewards they can hold onto,” Jones said, “They’re idiots, but they’re in the majority.”

Then, he turned his head to the side and pointed off into the distance, “Our meeting partner is coming. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“I was wondering, do you always meet like this, in the darkest part of the ocean, under a new moon?” Isaac thought out loud.

“Always under a new moon, never in the same place,” Jones replied.

The submarine slowly peeled itself out of the darkness like some monster of the deep emerging from its hiding place with the casualness of a predator that already knew it had won, its sleek, white, almost ceramic-looking hull glinting in the light of the Dutchman’s lights. That was more than just armor, though. It managed to resist Isaac’s sensory [Aura] to a degree, making it more difficult to peer inside.

There were many materials that were supposed to have that effect, but most of them were only effective to a small degree. The bunker under the Bundestag was made of such a material, but it had been so crappy that Isaac had straight-up failed to realize that they’d been trying to keep people like him out and just pulled his usual stunt of spreading his [Aura] absolutely everywhere while (officially) avoiding reading anything or eavesdropping.

He was just glad he’d had the good sense to not comment on stuff he hadn’t directly laid eyes on.

But this ship, it was a masterwork.

A bow that tapered into a razor-sharp point at the tip of a squashed cigar shape, a trio of bladed struts that were just as sharp emerging from it and running the length of the vessel, likely only ending when they reached the currently not visible stern, placed in an equal-sided triangle pattern.

A pair of large, bulbous, viewing domes sat being and above the point, looking like the eyes of some kind of deep-sea fish, practically glowing with enchantments to reduce their drag down to nothing.

Beneath the point and between the bottom two struts lay a hole that would likely unleash hell and damnation if this vessel ever engaged in combat.

It was eight meters high and wide, and while Isaac couldn’t see its entire length, he’d bet an unreasonable amount of money that it was exactly seventy meters long, just like the literary original.

“The Nautilus is quite the sight, isn’t it?” Jones asked.

“She’s no Flying Dutchman, but I wouldn’t mind living aboard it,” Isaac replied.

Jones began to laugh at that, and after a few seconds, Isaac heard the frightened flashes of startled sea life that were fleeing from the booming laughter.

The Nautilus pulled up to the Dutchman’s side, revealing that, yes, it was seventy meters long, a good twenty meters longer than the “sailing” ship, though Isaac would still have bet on the Frankenship in a fight.

A section of hull previously indistinguishable from the rest halfway down the submarine fell open, the far end coming to rest gently on the Dutchman’s railing, a pair of guardrails popping up on either side to make the walk inside “safer”.

At the same time as an air bubble manifested atop the carpeted walkway, a staircase extended onto the sailing ship’s deck.

“Is that the permission to come aboard, or do we wait?” Isaac asked.

“We wait,” Jones told him.

The wait wasn’t long.

An Indian man in a deep blue, pseudo-military uniform stepped out, grinning.

“David, it’s been a while. How are things?”

“Oh, the usual. I found a few nice wrecks, found some ancient Greek artifacts that might be a lead to Atlantis. If it’s real, at any rate. Here’s to hoping.” Jones said, “How about you?”

“This and that. Met some people, fought some monsters, got in a fight with a whaler, and learned that there are some fish that just don’t belong in a Bouillabaisse.”

Isaac winced. Experimenting with weird ingredients was a standard part of exploration, and sometimes, that didn’t exactly go well.

“I’m glad to see you didn’t come out of that for the worse,” Jones said, “Can I introduce you to Dr. Isaac Thoma?”

“Captain Parvan Nemo,” Nemo introduced himself while sticking out his hand, which Isaac shook.

Obviously, that was a pseudonym, or rather, the last name was. The original’s first name had been Dakkar, with Nemo being an assumed name. If Isaac had left standard society, he might have used “Hildebrand” as a last name to differentiate himself from his previous self.

The original had been a man driven by vengeance, leaving behind the terrestrial world. But he’d also been an explorer, someone whose ship contained a library with twelve thousand books, paintings, and other works of art, collections of oceanic samples, and he’d even had an organ on the sub, which the captain himself played.

Based on this meeting, it seemed like this “Nemo” was more about exploring the ocean and leaving behind the surface than, well, bloody revenge.

“Isaac Thoma,” Isaac said as he shook the Captain’s hand, “Very glad to finally meet you.”

“Why don’t you two join me for dinner?” Nemo asked, and when Isaac and Jones nodded, he led them deeper into the Nautilus.

This was how this usually went, apparently. The two ships would rendezvous, the captains would take turns hosting each other while the crews traded gossip and goods, and in the end, they’d both leave richer than before.

The inside of the Nautilus was gorgeous beyond belief, every surface either made from or imitating some kind of incredibly precious material, yet despite that, it wasn’t gaudy, but a tasteful motive of leaf gold, a stone that might have been marble, woven carpets covered in an absurd amount of cleaning enchantments and more besides.

“So, Doctor, what brings you to the bottom of the ocean?” Nemo asked.

“Curiosity, mostly,” Isaac shrugged, “Who wouldn’t want to see the legendary Nautilus? But I also wanted to see the man who brought all this about.”

“Cu-ri-o-si-ty,” Nemo said slowly, as though speaking the word for the very first time, “This is an incredible world we have here, isn’t it? We know more about the surface of the moon than the deep sea, and that’s a crying shame. So I’m changing that. But what is it that you’re interested in?”

“Everything,” Isaac proclaimed.

“Ambitious,” Nemo noted.

“I have the resources, I have the time, and I like to think I have the will,” Isaac replied.

“Considering what you’ve achieved, I’d say you definitely have the will,” Nemo said.

There was a brief lull in the conversation as a door irised open in front of them, revealing what had to be the dining room. A large table sat there, covered in a kingly feast of seafood. Lobsters slathered in butter, a dozen different kinds of sashimi, more kinds of fish stew than Isaac even knew existed, a dozen different breads that were likely made from seaweed but he honestly couldn’t tell anything about them beyond the fact that they smelled delicious …

“I hope you don’t mind seafood, Dr. Thoma,” Nemo remarked, “We try to live off the ocean, and are somewhat limited in our selection down here.”

“Oh, this all smells divine,” Isaac assured him.

The conversation during the food was pretty standard, small talk, current events, and the like. Though the political talk was strongly colored by their perspective as S-Rankers.

But when the plates were cleared away, things got serious.

“I brought gifts,” Isaac proclaimed, placing a pair of storage rings on the table, “I know that giving similar or even identical gifts tends to make one look unimaginative, but I believe this should qualify as an exception.

“These are upgrade kits for your vessels that should allow them to function in outer space.

“For Captain Jones and the Dutchman, hull fragments and engine parts from various famous vessels from countless space programs, so you may gain the ability to sail the solar winds as well.

“And for Captain Nemo and the Nautilus, antigravity plates to remove the impact of gravity, compact VASIMIR engines for zero-g maneuvering, central control panels designed to be able to interface with any kind of standard, or similar to standard, control.

“However, considering that this vessel is the product of a [Skill], there is a good chance that it will gain the ability to fly in space on its own.”

“Very generous, thank you,” Nemo said, eyes flicking to the ring, and then locking onto Isaac with laser focus, “Though I’m not sure a single meal deserves a gift this generous.”

“Last time, you were looking for allies in the fight of and for your life,” Jones observed, “What’s happening this time?”

Those two certainly weren’t idiots.

“Nothing, and everything,” Isaac said, knowing how utterly useless that proclamation was.

“That bad?” Jones sighed, “This is a fundamental issue with the world, isn’t it?”

“You’re both S-Rankers at the fifth Evolution, strong enough to affect the world, if you so choose. You also exist outside the normal bounds of society. I’d like your perspective on how people with power interact with societies that, for the most part, don’t.”

“The same way we’ve dealt with it for the last ten years,” Jones suggested.

“Things are coming to a head, aren’t they?” Nemo said as he got up and marched over to the bar to pour himself a glass of whisky. There was an enchantment on that part of the room that allowed for intoxication with the usual restrictions, aka instantly sobering the “drunkard” up the instant something went even remotely wrong.

He sat down heavily at the table with a pair of extra glasses and the bottle. The “drunkard field” extended from the bar to them. Apparently, it was some kind of innate property of the ship itself.

Nemo gave a brief explanation of the glasses’ powers, and then grumbled, “I thought I’d be free of that shit down here. So, what’s the problem, and why is it a problem now?”

“The fifth Evolution is the final one,” Isaac said, “Sooner or later, this insane growth in power during the battle against increasingly powerful monsters will end and the people who slew them will stand at the apex of this world. And while we hurtle towards that problem, all the standard issues like unemployment grow and grow.

“And when we no longer have the problem of potentially insurmountable monsters being summoned hanging over our heads, everything will come to a head. If we don’t figure out how to make sure this world keeps spinning and society remains stable before then, we’ll have a problem.”

“We ran away to the bottom of the ocean, we’re not exactly in a position to give grand advice,” Jones mused as he studied his reflection in the whisky glass he held in front of his face, “Or did you bring us the ability to flee the planet because you think we won’t fit the new world order?”

Isaac vigorously shook his head, “Your ships somewhat bind you to this planet. I wanted to help you explore space, that’s why I chose those gifts.

“But as for why I want to talk to you about this is that you’re largely free of the trappings of society. You’ve got the closest thing to an outsider’s perspective as I can access. I’ve heard suggestions of ‘make S-Rankers kings’ to ‘make S-Rankers sign slave contracts” and everything in between. And as for the people without that level of power, some of the suggestions were truly dystopian.”

“First time something goes wrong and I can’t avoid it on Earth, I’m leaving and not coming back for a decade,” Nemo proclaimed, downing his whisky in a single gulp, “The way to deal with this is the same way societies have always dealt with changing circumstances. Keep fixing stuff until something goes catastrophically wrong, then rebuild from the ashes into something that works for the changed circumstances.”

“Grim, but that might be how this shakes down,” Isaac agreed.

“As a historian, I have to agree,” Jones sighed, “As someone living on this planet, I hope you figure out a way around to prevent that. Fundamentally, you’ll need a way to ensure that S-Rankers aren’t dominating everything but also that they aren’t treated with a complete lack of respect that might cause them to run off or even revolt. You’ll need a way to avoid social stratification, and ensure people are neither locked into their parents’ social class nor kept at low Levels because no one is helping them summon safely.”

“Good point,” Isaac said, “Thank you.”

It was also something he’d realized himself. It was the how that was the issue.

Nemo, who’d been looking ever so slightly tipsy, sobered up faster than Isaac could blink as he removed himself from the effects of the “drunkard field”.

“Remember that things don’t have to be simple, logical, or elegant, they just have to work. It’s the same with most laws of nature, especially in biology. My professor always used to say ‘it ain’t a rule unless there’s an exception’.”

Once again, helpful … but also not. In his mind’s eye, Isaac could already see things becoming infinitely more complex, utterly escaping his grasp.

After another hour of conversation, Isaac got a way to contact Nemo directly and returned to shore, only to find that [Continent Strider] had passed the second threshold.

Continent Strider (legendary, Level XX)

In olden times, it could take months or years to go from city to city, from country to country. Modern technology has shrunken the world somewhat, but it still takes quite a while to move significant distances.

This Skill not only removes the need for modern technology to travel vast distances in a reasonable timeframe but further boosts the travel speed while moving on foot. Your movement speed on foot or horseback will increase exponentially with this Skill active.

Continent Strider cannot be activated in combat or while fleeing combat, it is purely a utility Skill.

This Skill can be applied to all party members so long as said party members are within 100 meters of the user and the user is the party leader.

Every day, the user accumulates a pool of movement equal to one hour of travel without using this Skill. This pool has an upper limit of 336 hours, and can be used to open a portal to an important location the user has been before. This portal can carry up to five times the user’s mass per activation and its cost amounts to how long it would have taken the user to make the journey normally, without using Continent Strider’s acceleration feature. Combat utility limitations still apply.

Each use of this portal a day after the first will double the cost each time.

After countless occasions where the user has used this Skill to sneak in travel even amidst hectic emergencies, it has evolved to let them do their travel in segments. Once per month, the user may choose a single journey that they could complete in a month or less, and they may (outside of combat, twice a day) teleport to their last position in that journey, maintaining their movement bonus from Continent Strider.

Once a journey is selected, it cannot be changed for a year, which will remove the ability to teleport to the journey (the user mustn’t be on the journey while doing this) and while on the journey, it cannot be deviated from (including intentionally delaying/moving overly slowly).

Cost: 500 mana per hour, plus 100 per party member

Nice. Very nice. The power to take a long journey in pieces, bit by bit, even keeping the exponential speed boost even though he wasn’t traveling continuously. There were limits to it, and all the limitations on what he could do while on his chosen “journey” made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t meant to do anything but travel, but there was a very simple way around that.

Make long journeys that he could never afford to spend the time to take, able to return at any time if needed, and expand the range of places he could teleport with his portals. And when there was an actual need for him to go there, he could just teleport.

But there wasn’t a place on Earth he couldn’t reach in under a day even without zapping to the nearest place he’d already been before starting his journey. Using his once-a-month journey for that would be a waste.

There was just one place to go, the place he hadn’t been able to explore due to not wanting to be away from Earth for so long.

So he pulled out his phone and called Bailey, “Hey Adam, I was wondering if there’s anything in the next week that I have to be there for. This isn’t an emergency, it’s a holiday that would be somewhat useful, so don’t blow off semi-important stuff, but can I go?”