Agoraphobia

[maxspells]

A loud creaking rumbled through the hull as the vessel plunged into the black abyss. The man stood in front of the porthole, gazing into the endless dark. He did not stir. It had been six hours now. The vessel pressed onward, beginning its slow ascent. Twelve hours to go until Trelenje.

Footsteps echoed faintly as the crew shuffled about belowdecks. Hushed, frantic whispers floated up from the lower levels, occasionally drowned out by the sharp pinging of rhythmic sonar. Still, the man did not move. His eyes never left the glass.

His pupils were fully dilated now - coin-sized black circles swallowing the flaking hazel of irises once vibrant and filled with joy. He was tall, lanky, and stringy in build from years of malnutrition and the moon’s low gravity. His mariner’s coat, thick and warm despite being stained with soot and salt, helped conceal the corpse of a man he had become. He had ashed his bone-pipe hours ago but still occasionally drew on the tip, a habitual remnant of the man he used to be.

A young girl clung to his leg, sobbing quietly. She shivered, soaking his trousers with tears. Her grip tightened as the footsteps below grew louder.

Eventually, a voice broke the silence.

“Bloody ‘ell… There you are, Tess,” said a head peeking through the open bulkhead. “Yuh ain’t s’posed t’be here, child. It’s…”

He didn’t finish. His eyes found the hollow man standing at the window.

“It’s bad luck, aye? Come with me-”  he added gently, as he pried the girl loose from the man’s leg. Her sobs grew louder, swelling from a muffled groan into full wailing as he lifted her into his arms and carried her away.

The man at the window still did not stir.

[maxspells]

The messhall was dark. Overhead lights flickered as the ballast pumps kicked on, emptying the tanks. The vessel surged upward, and the sudden shift in inertia pressed the two crewmen deeper into their chairs. Beer bottles clinked against the metal table as the men steadied them, bracing for the change in direction.

“Fockin’ Gainsbloom’s lost it, mate! He ain’t makin’ it to Trelenje! We oughta take charge now - ’fore he starts screamin’ or tries to drown us all,” said Bassiv, the skinnier of the two. “He’s been standin’ in there fer hours. Ain’t gonna make it twelve more.”

He took a swig from his bottle.

The man called Emmy just nodded, grunted, and drank in turn.

“Fuckin’ hell… ain’t like this one bit. Who’s- y’know- who’s gonna…” Bassiv muttered, before being cut off by the vessel lurching again. The lights flickered as the ballast tanks refilled. The engine whirred, and the submarine shifted, now moving forward. The men steadied their bottles again.

Emmy broke the silence. “It’s gonna be Cecil. Ain’t no discussin’ that. Daniil’s runnin’ the helm, and tides know it ain’t gonna be you.”

Bassiv stared blankly at the table as Emmy drained the rest of his beer and gave another grunt.

“It don’t matter anyway. Ship ain’t ours- it’s Gainsbloom’s. We’s all gonna need new crews. All o’ us.”

“And what about the girl? It’s hers now, right? What if she-”

“Fockin’ hell, Bas… she’s twelve. She ain’t no hydronaut. And it ain’t goin’ to her anyway. Jim’s ex-, or the dockyard’ll claim it - pawn it off fer dockyard fees after we get our cut. Or… somethin’,” Emmy said, tossing the empty bottle into the disposal unit with a hollow clunk.

“Then what about the girl?” Bassiv repeated, whining. “We just… droppin’ her off at the dockyard, then?”

The bulkhead whined and swung open. A tall, bearded man stepped into the messhall, wearing a striped shirt and bandana. Slung over his shoulder was the small, curled figure of a crying girl.

“Cecil! Welcome back. We were just talkin’ about who’s gonna-”

“Not in front of the girl, you fuckin’ halfwit,” Cecil snapped, his glare cutting into Bassiv like a blade.

He gently lowered the shivering bundle into a chair and crossed over to the foodstock, retrieving a wafer of hardtack and an apple. He set them on the table in front of her.

She had stopped sobbing but didn’t touch the food. Instead, she pulled her legs up into the chair and buried her face in her knees.