Chapter 29: An Illusion of Victory

Ever since the day that corpses had swarmed and attacked the crew of the Sapfir, Decimus had not dared to come out from below decks. It was understandable, of course, although many members of the crew resented him greatly for it. How was it justifiable that they would be the ones to assemble his design up on deck when he would not even come up himself?

In addition, the fact that the design for the turbine-sail was drawn up by Decimus himself had at first posed somewhat of a problem. The different stages of construction had previously been dictated and overseen by Decimus, for he would know what was correct and what was not, having served on ships bearing these sorts of sails for his entire period of function.

Luckily, Aleks, who had been one of the few to show something other than hostility to the clockwork marksman, had been able to convey Decimus' instructions to the crew – something that was received much better since it came from the mouth of their Captain.

Meanwhile, Decimus had hidden himself below.

It had taken days for Vladimir to convince him that the ship was safe enough for him to emerge from the cabin alone – although he would still twitch at the slightest noise or disturbance, although he would turn corners with hesitation, as if she was around every corner, just waiting –

There you are!

Clockworks did not perceive fear, but this was perhaps the closest it would come.

As of now, he, along with Vladimir, were in the ship's hold amongst numerous barrels of gunpowder and stacks of weapons, sorted by world of origin and type. Decimus had replaced his torn and bloodstained uniform coat with a fur-lined jacket that he had found in one of the many storage areas. It was obviously made to hold in heat, much like his Polarian patrol uniform had before it had been destroyed.

"And your own Commander would not believe you?"

Vladimir was not demanding when he asked – he was anything but. Rather, he was inquiring, out of a desire to understand, to learn more.

How logical.

How oddly logical, for a human.

"Negative – it is not that he did not believe me."

His speech came easier now, he noticed – there were less halts, and often times none. He could not remember the last time that this had occurred.

"Rather, he did not see my function as…worth the effort again."

Vladimir's brow creased.

"Worth what effort?"

And Decimus did not quite know how to proceed.

Worth the effort of helping me. Fixing me. Saving me. The Commodore had stood in for me the last time. The Commodore had taken control. She erased my memories of that woman, she let me function normally again. She thought that Dangler had cast the last of her spells. She was wrong and now the Commodore is dead and cannot –

"Worth the effort of trying to pursue and eliminate her."

"Even though she was a threat?"

"A threat that the Supreme Commander had limited knowledge upon. It would be illogical to pursue her if there was not a full understanding of her abilities."

That in itself sounded much more sensible than the full story of what had actually occurred, and for the sake of convenience, Decimus let it remain. Vladimir was not pushing the matter further, which was good – he was not quite prepared to react, had the Polarian continued.

"So he would rather have – "

"He imprisoned me. Alone. As a test subject for further analysis."

A test subject.

Clockworks could not truly be cruel, they had no ulterior motives other than to gain knowledge, power, and control – but in a way, that would only make it worse.

He imagined Decimus restrained to a wall by chains that would be unacceptably restricting when used on a human but this was not a human and therefore no regard was given, he imagined other clockwork officers interrogating him, asking him questions faster than he could answer them.

Vladimir decided not to press this farther either, and he let it lie.

"And they placed you in a Polarian patrol squadron?"

"Negative. I escaped."

I took the uniform, I marched along with them all while knowing that the conditions of Polaris would eventually terminate me, yes, but that would be better, that would be far better.

And he had been so close.

"The one you mentioned, the Commodore…she can't help you anymore…?"

"She was terminated. My patrol found her frame. We were returning her to the ship when the warriors attacked."

Strangely enough, Vladimir found himself reacting, almost as if he was trying to make up for what any human being would have done if they were in Decimus' situation. He had lost an ally, a protector, perhaps the only being who had been willing to truly help him. Perhaps Decimus himself perceived it the same way, perhaps he had registered the loss but was not quite capable of reacting to it externally.

Perhaps they were not so different after all.

The sound of footsteps descending above them announced the Captain's arrival, his forehead soaked with sweat – obviously, he had joined the crew in assembling and installing the enormous turbine-sail, trying to lift some of the burden that had been placed squarely upon all of their shoulders.

"It has been done."

"The sails?" Decimus stood, bracing himself on the wall behind him – the enormous wound upon his torso was still closing up, after he had ripped it open again during that nightmarish frenzy.

"Indeed – perhaps you should certify that it has been done…correctly."

Decimus did not reply.

They wanted him to come up on deck, and although it did seem like such a simple request given that the crew had been up there for days, working tirelessly while Decimus hid below, there was still the lurking danger.

She's here. She's everywhere, waiting, just waiting for him.

"It's a good idea," Vladimir said, standing up behind Decimus, the persuasive and insistent nudge in his voice just barely present, "But once we determine that it functions, we should come down as soon as possible."

"And why is that?"

Because she is here, Decimus wanted to say, to scream, if he was capable of it, but Vladimir spoke for him instead, providing his Captain with the excuse that there were unknown dangers in these parts of the spiral, and that safety and survival was key as of now.

Aleks bought it – he had no reason not to, it was perfectly logical.

"I will check the sails."

Decimus' voice was quieter, but still steady, and automatically, he matched the Captain's footsteps as he led the both of them up, out of the hold, and onto the deck, where the crew stood waiting.

Every single one of them was out of breath and more or less drenched in their own sweat, some of them looking exhausted, others furious – especially at the sight of Decimus himself. However, they did not voice their displeasure, not in their Captain's presence.

Stepping further out onto the deck, Decimus looked up at the sail, now roped to the mast – the wooden frames were solid and symmetrical, yes, and although the sails were made from patched fabric, it still held quite well.

Everything seemed to be in working order.

Looking over the rope, Decimus traced it across the frame of the sails, down the mast, and finally to the lever that had been anchored into the boards of the deck that would control the pitch of the ship, allowing them to quite literally sail up and, hypothetically, allow them to escape from this infernal abyss.

Climbing up beside the mast, Decimus tapped a hand over the pitch lever first, to ensure its stability, and then gripped it tightly, planting his feet into a more stable stance and pushing it ever so slightly to the right.

And then, without much delay at all, the sails matched the angle, and the ship did the same. Decimus released the lever and turned to the crew, all of them silent in anticipation.

"Well? Does it work properly?"

"Affirmative."

The crew and Captain of the Sapfir erupted into cheers, congratulating each other in Polarian and clapping each other on the back – this was not hopeless after all, there was a way out! In the midst of this, Aleks approached Decimus, speaking just loudly enough that he could be heard over the noise –

"Is it ready for testing?"

"It is, Captain," Decimus confirmed, using his title out of the protocol – he was not an officer of Valencia, but he commanded this ship nevertheless, "And it would be wise to do so as soon as possible."

Turning to his crew, Aleks bellowed several orders in Polarian, to which they quickly complied. Immediately, Vladimir jumped up and took the wheel, holding it stable while the others rushed to the ropes, to their corresponding positions.

"Ten degrees up," Decimus said, and pulled the lever back. Just as before, the sails followed – except they tilted up this time, and soon, all aboard the Sapfir could feel the ship pulling up, lifting up beneath them."

So far, so good – nothing had gone wrong. Decimus eased the lever back a little farther.

"Fifteen degrees." The ship tilted ever so slightly upwards and continued its ascent.

"So…it works?" Aleks asked, trying to contain his own anticipation but just barely succeeding – the little spark of hope was too great here.

"Affirmative, Captain."

"We've done it!"

And now, joy truly took over each and every one of them – the men jumped down from the masts, embracing each other, some of them praying to whatever God they worshiped in their country – finally.

They had evaded death and doom itself.

But then –

"Land it!" Decimus said, the traces of what almost seemed to be panic laced in with his words, "Land it, quickly!"

"You're insane – we just got it working!"

"The mast will snap if we don't!"

And indeed, Decimus spoke the truth – when the men on board looked up, they found that, sure enough, the mast was strained and bending dangerously.

"Shit! Back to your stations, now!"

There was a great rush, almost chaotic in nature as Decimus slowly eased the angle off, the gravity of the abyss pulling them slowly back down to the vertical height that they had started at.

Too good to be true.

Still, the mast had been saved – and the sails worked as intended. Reinforcing the mast could be done easily enough, with the shipwrecks that drifted around them every day and any spare materials in the hold. Nevertheless, the atmosphere over the Sapfir was heavy – all of them, the Captain, the crew, the clockwork, had been cheated of their victory this time.

It was demoralizing – but it was not as if this crew, made up of scavengers, were not accustomed to failure. They would simply try again, like the persistent creatures they were, and that worked quite well with Decimus' own logical course of action.

"You there! Help us!"

A shout, from a distance – clearly from somewhere else in the abyss – and as if they had been on a hair trigger, the crew rushed to the railings, squinting and scouring the area to try and find the source of this.

"Help us!"

"Over there!" One of the crew members cried, flinging an arm out in the indicated direction. The ship continued to drift forwards, and as it did, the outline of a half-destroyed ship slowly came into view – Marleybonian, Decimus concluded, by the shape of it. Several moving figures, although shadowed, could be seen on the deck, some of them rushing about and carrying what was most likely salvaged rations, some of the others waving their arms in the air.

"We see you!" Aleks called back, his voice echoing out into the endless expanse of nothing, "Peter, take the wheel!"

The scavenger that he had addressed – Peter – rushed to comply, taking hold of the wheel and steering the ship carefully in the direction of the wreckage, the others murmuring amongst themselves. Most of them were expressing relief, relief that they were no longer alone, that they were no longer abandoned, that there were others here –

But yet, there was also concern of resources, of not having enough food or water to sustain twice the number of men that the ship was made for, and Decimus could not help but inwardly note that a clockwork crew would not have had to face this challenge.

They ran off of nothing but their orders, their purpose.

The Sapfir pulled up alongside the wreckage, and gangplanks were placed between the two ships as the Captain and what remained of the crew of the Marleybonian ship crossed over, respectfully greeting Aleks with either a salute or a resemblance of one.

"We owe our lives to you, Captain."

Aleks bowed his head in reply.

"This place is dark and endless – we must unite in order to have any chance of escape. Our resources are limited, but we are able to tend to your wounded while we make the last few repairs to our ship."

"We must unite indeed."

Decimus froze – as did the rest of the crew.

The Marleybonian Captain's voice had become distorted, divided and dissonant and grating, and his eyes no longer held any color – rather, they were white, all white, pure white.

"We must unite together…"

Now it was the rest of the Marleybonians, speaking together, as one – with that same high pitched, shrill voice, doubled over itself again and again, their eyes white, blank, empty –

"Together…forever!"

And before their eyes, the Captain and crew of the destroyed ship dissolved into clouds of smoke, only for each of them to reform into the same identical figure, with white, empty eyes and thick, curled, dark hair, with a full-lipped smile and broken nails.

The color drained from Vladimir's face.

This is the one he speaks of –

This is Dangler.

As if she was blind, Dangler – all thirteen of her ghostly replicas – stretched out her arms, walking about slowly, their hands feeling the air in front of them, grabbing for something, anything –

But Decimus knew that she was looking for one thing in particular –

Him.

"Where are you," The Danglers rasped, the temperature suddenly seeming to drop dramatically, "Why are you hiding from me…?"

As her and all of her replicas stumbled about the deck, their smoky forms leaving equally smoky trails behind them, Decimus realized that they could not see him, they were walking without knowing what was in front of them, like blind women. The crewmembers quickly and quietly moved out of their paths, too terrified to the core to do anything else other than to stand still, to stand still and pray that it would be nothing more than this.

Then –

"Ah - ! I feel you – here!"

Slowly, as if to purposefully amplify the dread that had silently and completely consumed the entirety of the Sapfir and her occupants, all thirteen ghostly Danglers turned towards Decimus, pointing a single bony finger in his direction as they drew nearer to him, closing in –

"Oh, my dear Decimus…you can't run forever!" And all at once, they rushed at him.

Decimus had brought his arms up before his face, as if this would somehow ward off thirteen iterations of his sole tormentor, but as soon as they reached him, there was an enormous blast of smoke and she was no longer there, having vanished back into the void that she had come from.


I hope you enjoyed, and do be sure to leave a review!

- Severina