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They stand only a dozen or so meters away, a pair of divers in the ancient regalia of 20th century suits. How they’re surviving under 300 meters’ worth of water pressure is a mystery. What isn’t a mystery, is what’s being held in their hands. Courtesy of the viewfinder and HOPI’s image enhancing suite.
You bring the spear gun up to bear, aimed at the diver with the detonator. Even at this distance, with the aid of HOPI, you won’t miss. “Drop it!”
The same voice chants over the radio. “̷T̸h̵e̵ ̷s̷I̷n̷s̶ ̸o̸f̴ ̵T̴H̷e̴ ̶W̸O̸r̵L̶d̷ ̴b̶E̴f̷o̶r̵e̵ ̴T̶H̴E̵ ̵f̷l̵O̷o̵d̷ ̸S̵h̵a̵L̶L̴ ̶n̶O̵T̶ ̸B̴e̷ ̵t̴o̴R̵N̵ ̵F̶r̵O̸M̶ ̶T̸I̵A̴m̷A̶t̷’̷S̴ ̸e̸M̷B̴r̶A̷C̷E̵,̷ ̷b̶A̸B̸Y̸L̵o̷n̵i̷A̷N̷ ̵s̴c̴U̶m̸.̸”̵
“Dragon’s Teeth,” you spit contemptuously.
Eco/Luddite-terrorists that emerged in the wake of Babylonia’s founding. Originally, neo-pagans organized in the Dark Winter, believing that the Cataclysm was the judgement of the gods upon the arrogance of men. Violently opposed to what they saw as a return to life before judgement, they adopted the primordial goddess of salt as their idol of worship: the dragon-goddess Tiamat. A direct challenge to Babylonia, and all the nations of the Flooded World seeking to return to life before the disaster.
You lost more than a handful of coworkers to their attacks. Bombings at the industrial district, poisonings on supplies bound for oil rigs, unexplained accidents that would be found to have been deliberate acts of sabotage. Beyond the distant and impersonal boogeyman that was the Toghril Khanate, there is no organization you loathe more than the Dragon’s Teeth.
“HOPI, do you see anything else, or is it just them?” you mutter.
“Just them,” she confirms, “But I don’t see a sub or a vehicle, let alone a structure…where the hell did they come from?”
Doesn’t matter. All members of the Teeth are designated ‘shoot on sight.’ No response from either surface or the Mackerel. To Gully, you then radio. “Gully, come in. Where are you?”
“…almost…out,” her voice comes past heavy interference, “…got transponder and black box…but reactor’s active…hot, going critical…”
The blood in your veins turns to ice. Did they sabotage that too? “Drop the box and get out of there now!”
“No…need it!" The interference isn't enough to block the desperation in her voice. "Can’t leave behind…”
Damned woman! But you shake your head, focusing back on the cultists. The Magellan takes one step after the other, closing the distance. “Drop it! I won't ask-.”
“̶W̷E̷ ̶a̴l̶l̸ ̸A̵R̷E̶ ̴a̶l̸r̷e̵A̷D̷y̸ ̸d̴E̵a̵D̶.̶ ̷Y̴o̴u̶ ̷a̸N̸d̷ ̴T̵H̶e̶ ̵r̸e̵s̴T̸ ̷m̴e̸r̶e̸L̷y̵ ̶r̴e̶f̵u̵S̸e̶ ̴T̸o̶ ̴a̵c̸C̴e̷P̴T̴ ̴T̴h̵A̵t̵ ̸h̵u̴M̵A̵N̶i̷t̸y̵ ̵i̵s̸ ̷a̷ ̷d̴y̴i̷N̷g̵ ̵a̴n̴I̷M̴a̷l̴.̶”̶
(cont.)
