I'm starting to get sick of saying this, but....
I don't own Big O
I don't own the characters
I am not making money
Lawyers, begone!
"What do you mean, they vanished? Somebody should've stayed to make sure they got the raft out in time!"
"I know, but the ship was going down fast, and we couldn't--"
"Forget it. The past is the past. This is now. We'll need another ship, and equipment capable of finding two androids on the bottom of the ocean..."
Angel spread a chart of the nearby sea on the table. "Can you show me about where the ship sunk? If this rescue is going to have any luck, we need a general area to start in."
Norman stepped into the room. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Angel, but are you sure a rescue is really neccessary?"
Angel looked at him in undisguised astonishment. "You mean you think they made it onto the raft?"
The one-eyed man shook his head. "No, I understand that they are most likely on the bottom of the sea. But do they really need rescuing?" Angel still looked confused, so Norman elaborated. "Master Roger could easily call Big O, and they could ride him back to shore or simply teleport back here. Even if Big O cannot make it there, for some reason, they could just walk along the floor of the ocean towards shore. There is really no reason to assume that they need or want to be rescued."
Angel pursed her lips. "Regardless, we're heading out there. If they DO need help, I'm going to be there to offer it."
It had been several hours since their landing on the bottom of the ocean floor. Roger and Dorothy strode on, tirelessly, farther and farther from shore. Every now and then, some curious sea creature would come close to the light from Dorothy's headband, but they would quickly vanish. The ocean floor stretched before them, an endless plain of greyish mud.
With each footstep, the murk threatened to immobilize them, but the strength of their pneumatic legs could easily pull them free. Their shoes had been sucked of long ago, but they had barely noticed. Beneath the mud, the ground was fairly smooth.
Roger noticed a shape coming into sight at the edge of their tiny pool of light. More than a shape; a wall of steel rose into the darkness above. They walked right up to it, and Roger rapped his knuckle on its side. They, of course, heard nothing, since their speach and hearing systems were damaged by the salt water. Dorothy looked from side to side. Metal extended like the face of a cliff in both directions.
Roger, however, had spotted something farther down when Dorothy had moved the light. He pointed, and they headed for the vauge shadow.
It was a chain, hanging from some point far above. The last link, broken, lay half-buried in the mud. Each link was the size of Roger's forearm. They stood looking up its length for a moment, then Dorothy reached up and began to climb. Roger, not wanting to be left in the dark, followed.
It was when they passed the faded lettering that Roger realized they were climbing the anchor chain of a sunken ship. The name itself was unreadable, but the sight of the lettering triggered the thought deep inside Roger.
Moments later, his theory was confirmed as they climbed up onto the foredeck, where several cargo cranes lay sprawled across the planking. Dorothy stepped carefully between them, Roger following in her wake. Suddenly, a plank disentigrated beneath her foot, and it was only Roger's quick thinking that stopped her from plummeting belowdecks. He pulled her back, and they shared a look.
Shortly afterward, they climbed down the anchor chain on the opposite side and continued walking, oblivious to the slight, but steady downward slope.
I don't own Big O
I don't own the characters
I am not making money
Lawyers, begone!
"What do you mean, they vanished? Somebody should've stayed to make sure they got the raft out in time!"
"I know, but the ship was going down fast, and we couldn't--"
"Forget it. The past is the past. This is now. We'll need another ship, and equipment capable of finding two androids on the bottom of the ocean..."
Angel spread a chart of the nearby sea on the table. "Can you show me about where the ship sunk? If this rescue is going to have any luck, we need a general area to start in."
Norman stepped into the room. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Angel, but are you sure a rescue is really neccessary?"
Angel looked at him in undisguised astonishment. "You mean you think they made it onto the raft?"
The one-eyed man shook his head. "No, I understand that they are most likely on the bottom of the sea. But do they really need rescuing?" Angel still looked confused, so Norman elaborated. "Master Roger could easily call Big O, and they could ride him back to shore or simply teleport back here. Even if Big O cannot make it there, for some reason, they could just walk along the floor of the ocean towards shore. There is really no reason to assume that they need or want to be rescued."
Angel pursed her lips. "Regardless, we're heading out there. If they DO need help, I'm going to be there to offer it."
It had been several hours since their landing on the bottom of the ocean floor. Roger and Dorothy strode on, tirelessly, farther and farther from shore. Every now and then, some curious sea creature would come close to the light from Dorothy's headband, but they would quickly vanish. The ocean floor stretched before them, an endless plain of greyish mud.
With each footstep, the murk threatened to immobilize them, but the strength of their pneumatic legs could easily pull them free. Their shoes had been sucked of long ago, but they had barely noticed. Beneath the mud, the ground was fairly smooth.
Roger noticed a shape coming into sight at the edge of their tiny pool of light. More than a shape; a wall of steel rose into the darkness above. They walked right up to it, and Roger rapped his knuckle on its side. They, of course, heard nothing, since their speach and hearing systems were damaged by the salt water. Dorothy looked from side to side. Metal extended like the face of a cliff in both directions.
Roger, however, had spotted something farther down when Dorothy had moved the light. He pointed, and they headed for the vauge shadow.
It was a chain, hanging from some point far above. The last link, broken, lay half-buried in the mud. Each link was the size of Roger's forearm. They stood looking up its length for a moment, then Dorothy reached up and began to climb. Roger, not wanting to be left in the dark, followed.
It was when they passed the faded lettering that Roger realized they were climbing the anchor chain of a sunken ship. The name itself was unreadable, but the sight of the lettering triggered the thought deep inside Roger.
Moments later, his theory was confirmed as they climbed up onto the foredeck, where several cargo cranes lay sprawled across the planking. Dorothy stepped carefully between them, Roger following in her wake. Suddenly, a plank disentigrated beneath her foot, and it was only Roger's quick thinking that stopped her from plummeting belowdecks. He pulled her back, and they shared a look.
Shortly afterward, they climbed down the anchor chain on the opposite side and continued walking, oblivious to the slight, but steady downward slope.