Morimens story · Psyche Deepdive
Final Steersmanship
4 scenes, 335 lines
1. Before Darkness Falls, before the fight
96 lines19@2, July 13. The Nautilus. Four months at sea, and an unknown sickness spread through us fast. Food, water, medicine, every other supply, almost gone. This ship I love so dearly had become a hell on earth, and it tormented every soul aboard. But tragedy never ends where you think it will. Soon we would face true horror.
Captain, please, let Corp...
A voice cuts through the deep dream, and your eyes snap open.
A familiar cabin comes into focus, along with a sailor and a captain you don't know.
How much this resembles the Nautilus that Corposant mentioned to me in the morning...
While you're still taking in your surroundings, the two of them start arguing.
We need her to keep this voyage safe. We need a pilot to steer us.
Let her out? No. Every patient stays in quarantine. Those are the rules.
But... Corposant works seriously; she is the best navigator; with her, we will feel a bit more at ease.
Corp...
Corposant, this familiar name makes you want to speak, but the hunger, fatigue, and pain that infests your body and soul torment you, leaving you powerless.
True enough, she's a fine pilot. But...
We don't need a pilot anymore.
Don't need a pilot? What's that supposed to mean...
Because this ship is about to welcome a great fate, the glorious Sacrifice to the Divine Realm. Haven't you heard its call?
Don't worry, John. I'll let you hear it for yourself.
But first, those patients do need to be dealt with.
The captain calls out a few names, but you can't make them out anymore. Your mind blurs, and your eyelids keep sinking.
These are the ones we just rounded up. Haul them down to the cargo hold, bring some planks, and, well, you know what to do from there.
Our mission is almost complete, and those freaks would only defile the sacred ritual.
In the dark, someone drags you off toward somewhere you can't see. John starts screaming behind you, and the sound grows fainter and fainter.
The pain wrenches you awake, and you find yourself in the cargo hold. A figure silhouetted against the lamplight is holding water to your lips.
The fresh water slides down your throat and eases your worn-out body, until at last you have the strength to look around...
Dissolution Patients lie everywhere, so many that even the cargo hold feels cramped.
Have they locked up every Dissolution Patient on the ship in here?
Dissolution? I don't know if that's what the disease is called. Ralph still can't say for certain.
Oh, Ralph is the Nautilus's ship's doctor... was, anyway.
She talks as she leans back and turns to tend another patient. Now you can finally see her clearly.
Corposant!?
It's me. Kevin... didn't make it. I'm the only crew member down here who can still help anyone.
Is there anything else you need, passenger?
"Passenger" makes you instantly realize that you are still dreaming. For some reason, you linked with Corposant's consciousness and are experiencing her past.
You have no right to lock us up. It's immoral. It's inhuman.
The sudden shout interrupted your conversation with Corposant. The cargo hold suddenly stirred.
The two sailors who "brought" you here mean to dump you and go, but the patients still able to move crowd around them and block the way out.
Get me out of here! We each get a scrap of food, a mouthful of water, and there's no sunlight down here. I'm going mad, I'm really going mad!
Help me, please. The doctors said I still have a chance. Let me go, let me see them...
Shut it, you diseased wretches!
The sailors shove roughly into the crowd, and when that fails they turn their weapons on the patients, crude spears cut from barrel staves, things that should never have been aboard this voyage.
The next moment screams tear through the cargo hold, and you remember John's death, and everything you heard before you blacked out.
Corposant, stop them, they are preparing to completely seal this place off.
...!!!
While they talk, the sailors have already reached the doorway. They kick loose the patients clawing at the frame and force the door shut.
The door wasn't closed, and Corposant placed the banner in the doorway to prevent it from closing.
Sealing this place off, is that the captain's order, or are you acting on your own?
I don't need to tell you. Corposant, you are no longer the Keeper.
You're wrong. As long as I'm aboard this ship, I'm still her Pilot.
Hmph. Say whatever you like. Now get out of my way!
Norman raises his spear to attack Corposant, but is evaded by the latter, falling to the ground in a shoulder throw.
After that, Corposant looked at another sailor.
Jack, I was an apprentice at twelve, a Pilot at sixteen, and I took the Nautilus at twenty-one. I've come through more storms than I can count, and not one of them broke me. You won't either.
So answer the question, Sailor Jack. That's an order!
...It, it was the captain. He told us to board up the door and let every last patient starve.
They won't last long anyway, and they aren't fit to be offered to It. This is the quickest way, that's all.
...Your captain must be crazy.
It's not just the captain, these sailors have all gone mad. We're not the ones who deserve to die. You are!
I'm with you. Kill them, then find somewhere safe.
The ship has to make land sometime. When it does, we'll have our chance to get off, go home, or find a cure.
The idea catches on. Every patient still able to stand grabs the planks meant to board this place up and swings them at Jack's head...
Corposant, what are you doing!?
...As Pilot, I can't let anyone kill a sailor.
Then you go down with them...
There's a buzz, and the lights in the cargo hold flicker and die. Passengers already on the edge start screaming at once.
Aaah, I can't see anything! There's a monster, a monster's attacking me, help me!
Sobbing, wailing, shouting, all of it at once, loud enough to split your skull. But you have to keep your head clear.
Everyone, listen to me. What you need right now is food, medicine, and somewhere safe. Keep yourselves and the wounded alive, that's all that matters.
These sailors should be handled by me and Corposant, if more sailors come, we can stall for everyone a little longer.
What do you think, Corposant? These passengers need your help.
...We're at the stern of F Deck, the last deck above the waterline. Head forward to the bow cargo hold, there should be food, water, medicine, and emergency kerosene lanterns.
From there, take the boiler crew's stairway up to E Deck. You'll find the infirmary and the boiler crew's quarters.
Since the disease broke out, the crew's been shuffled around and that deck is empty now... You can shelter there for the time being.
And why should we trust you? You're crew too. How do we know you won't sell us out?
...I won't.
I think she really does want to help you. Otherwise she wouldn't still be here, looking after patients and keeping things running.
And even setting that aside, someone has to clean up the mess, don't they?
The patients fall silent, murmur among themselves for a moment, then move on.
During that time, sailors Norman and Jack tried to escape, only to be thrown to the ground by you and Corposant again.
No, we can't let them leave. The ritual has to be perfect, or it's blasphemy against It.
It's coming. It's almost here. We have to set everything right, fix all these mistakes.
The two sailors struggled and yelled until all the patients were evacuated, and only then did you and Corposant have time to attend to them.
This "It" you keep talking about, who is It? Or rather, what is It?
Hahaha! A frail little human like you could never comprehend what It is.
Ah, I hear it, I hear It calling! The power is out. The ship is on the right course now, sailing to meet It!
Norman erupts into mad laughter, convulsing and twisting as though electrified. Beside him, Jack clamps both hands over his skull, and shrill, unnameable syllables leak out between his fingers.
The unknown horrors contained in the syllables briefly impacted your consciousness, plunging you into instinctive dizziness.
In the end, Corposant had to knock out the frantic sailor.
Are you all right? If you're not feeling well, rest a while, I'll keep watch for you.
I'm fine... Things are urgent. We can't waste time.
Their minds are being controlled by "It", that unknown thing that got to us a moment ago.
You mean... the sailors went mad under that influence, took us off course, and steered the Nautilus straight toward this unknown thing?
Exactly. Everyone aboard is in danger. We have to find a way to the bridge and correct our heading.
I agree with your decision, but first I have to report this to the Captain.
He has the final say on every matter of navigation.
No! Something's wrong with the Captain!
I suspect, no, I'm certain he's been affected too...
You never get to finish. The hull lurches under you, shuddering the way a living thing shudders before something vast enough to swallow it whole.
2. Sacrifice Ritual, before the fight
87 linesAgainst the violent shaking of the ship, you and Corposant run all the way, finally arriving at the deck, where the sea is barely visible.
A thin rain falls out of the night sky. The clouds hang low and look wrong, as if something is gathering inside them.
It's alright, just a reef.
It is not alright. Striking a reef can set off a whole chain of disasters, and especially on the Nautilus. She's a steel ship. If the impact shears the hull rivets, the flooding will spread from one compartment to the next.
Once the watertight compartments fill and the engine room goes dead, the Nautilus is stranded out here, and there's only one way that ends. She sinks.
And that's before we count a warped propeller, a jammed rudder, or shifting cargo pulling her further off balance.
I need to know the state of the hull, right now.
But the speaking tube is up in the wheelhouse, and with the ship still heaving like this, walking is out of the question. All either of you can do is cling to the rail with everything you have.
Damn it! No, this is no time for complaining.
The rest of the crew will be taking damage control measures as their posts require, I'm sure. I have to do my own job as well.
...There's soil in the sea wind. I can smell it. Land can't be far from here.
Corposant sniffed, then released one hand towards the sky, and then let go of the other hand.
Are you out of your mind? The ship is still rocking!
You have to reach out to support her, but Corposant ignores you.
She clenches her fist, then holds out a few fingers, then clenches again, as if taking a measurement.
You're measuring the stars with your hands to fix our position? Where are your charts and your Sextant?
They took everything when they put me in quarantine. I begged them to leave me the signal flags, and that's all I have.
For now all I can do is a rough reading from experience. Let's hope I'm not too far off.
As far as I know, you only do that when you're abandoning ship to run her aground. You think the Nautilus is going down?
Experience tells me yes. Next I'll work out the tides and find the best place to beach her.
You no longer speak, providing a safe environment for Corposant's calculations, yet the entire deck becomes noisy.
The Nautilus has stopped rocking, but that last shudder has drawn everyone nearby up onto the deck.
Corposant, how did you end up here?
...Forgive me, Captain. I've broken your orders, but there's something you need to hear.
Something unknown has gotten to the sailors and taken us off course. But it doesn't matter, by my reckoning, the nearest inhabited island is only two kilometers from here.
Counting the water we've taken on, what the pumps can handle, and the tides, the Nautilus has three hours before she's fully under.
If we sound the alarm bell throughout the ship, turn her about inside that window, and drive her onto the beach, most people could sur...
Shut up. You don't understand anything.
The Great Lord is coming. This ship, and every soul aboard it, is the offering we lay before It.
Wait, what are you talking about?
Running aground? Sinking? What the hell is happening to this ship!
The crowd erupts. No one can answer him.
The man who controls this ship has gone mad. To him, every person aboard is already nothing but dead matter for the altar.
O Great Lord, take the offerings we devoutly place before You. Cheer! Rave! Let your pain and your deaths delight the great @3.
Corposant, there's no time left.
...But the captain is the highest authority on this ship. The final decision is his.
But isn't it the pilot's job to keep the ship sailing safely?
The captain has lost his mind. You have to choose.
...Understood. The wheelhouse is up ahead. Stay close to me.
Corposant pulled you as you ran, the captain's reaction was swift, immediately raising his gun and firing at you.
BANG...
The shot should have carried the length of the deck, but something far louder drowns it out.
Thunder splits the sky. The Nautilus lurches, as if something has scooped it up to toy with in its palm.
God almighty, what, what is that thing...
The crowd screams, but the sound counts for nothing against the pounding waves and the shriek of the dying ship.
A tentacle, shaped something like a wrist, indescribable, rises out of the sea, climbs over the bow, and tears through everything in its reach.
The bow gives way, and water begins pouring in.
Ah... at last, You have come at last...
Look, all of them, offerings we bring You in answer to Your call.
The captain and the sailors drop to their knees and crawl toward the tentacles, their faces alight with fervor. They embrace those slick limbs and kiss them, the way one kisses the feet of a god.
But the tentacle offers nothing back for their devotion. It sweeps the captain and several sailors into the darkness, and they are gone without a trace.
It's gone...?
...!!!
A tentacle lashes out of the darkness straight at you, then everything goes black as someone tackles you to the deck.
Don't worry. I'm here.
The monster wrecked the wheelhouse at the bow. We have to reach the docking bridge at the stern, there's another helm there.
Corposant dragged you toward the stern, and at the same time, the survivors also rushed toward the stern.
Back when the Nautilus was designed, the shipyard cared more about profit than people. They never put on enough lifeboats.
And now the monster has the bow, so those boats are lost too. The dozen or so at the stern can't take anywhere near this many passengers.
You're afraid the passengers will fight each other over the lifeboat seats?
Corposant did not answer; in fact, the debate over life and death had already begun.
Get lost, you consumptive wretch! You're dying anyway, I've still got years left!
It should be me on that boat! I paid for first class, don't I deserve to live more than you third-class trash?!
You're the ones who should get lost! Back off, all of you, or I'll shoot!
Then come the gunshots, the screams. The crowd surges forward and falls back. The weakest slip on the rain-soaked deck and are trampled bloody, every bone and every shred of dignity crushed underfoot.
Seeing another child about to fall, Corposant raised the flag to block the pressing crowd, and you took this opportunity to save the child.
It's all right now. Don't be afraid.
You try to comfort the child, but she only keeps crying and shaking.
But you can't hear her crying. It dissolves into the wailing of countless others, water of pain poured into an ocean of despair.
Enough. This ship has lost its captain, but it has not lost its order.
As Pilot, I order every sailor to hold the line. The weakest board the lifeboats first.
Order? What order? With death staring us down, none of that's worth a damn!
That's right, a seat belongs to whoever takes it. Who the hell are you? Out of the way!
The crowd's curses targeted Corposant, and alongside them came the gunfire.
Several bullets, unknown from where, pierced through Corposant's shoulder and chest, spraying blooms of blood from her back.
Ngh...
Corposant held the soaked flag, unable to speak.
Nothing she does now can keep the Nautilus from sinking. She is a pilot who cannot hold a course. She has profaned her own profession.
Corposant...
It's alright. I've treated gunshot wounds before, you're going to be fine...
You press down on Corposant's wound, applying an urgent bandage, yet the Nothius trembles once more.
Thunder cracks again, dragging wind and driving rain with it. Four or five tentacles rise around the hull and thrash across the deck, sweeping the lifeboats off the rail one by one into the sea.
No, my boat! Come back!
Help...
The tentacles sweep through again. Whoever they touch is dead before the words leave their mouth.
In that instant the fear of death settles over everyone aboard the Nautilus, close enough to touch...
A sea monster, a storm, the lifeboats gone. The Nautilus is going down, and not one of you will survive.
3. Navigator's Lament, before the fight
97 linesIn the freezing, hopeless rain there is a moment of silence, then a scream tears it open...
A passenger shoves the person beside them into the tentacles and runs through the gap it buys.
The act works like a switch, throwing open a forbidden door for everyone else.
Hahaha! We're all dying anyway, and if I take you fancy folk down with me, it was worth it!
Third-class filth. I swear you'll die before I do.
No, I don't want to die. I have to get home, I have to see a doctor...
It's all your fault, all of you! Die! Every one of you, die!
People turn on each other. The bullets run out, and barrel staves, snapped spars, even a length of rope become weapons.
There's no telling whose body the blood comes from. You only see it spreading, staining the pools of water across the deck red.
Everyone's gone mad... We have to hide.
I'm afraid... it's too late for that.
Corposant smiled wryly, while several people with weapons surrounded you.
Lightning strikes all around, setting canvas and deck alight, but the maddened crowd doesn't even notice.
Ha, Corposant, you're still alive?
Take a look, everyone! Here's our pilot. She failed at her job, so the Nautilus is going down, and every one of us dies with it.
Nonsense, it was clearly the captain who attracted the sea monster. And Corposant was isolated, absolutely...
The injured Corposant grasped your hand and stopped your words.
Thank you, but... *cough, cough* there's no need to defend me.
The Nautilus is sinking, and that is my failure. As this ship's pilot, I... I won't run from what I've done.
I'll buy you time... Now run.
Run? No, the two of you are going to die! Everyone is going to die!
They raise their weapons and close in on you.
Corposant stood up, clutching the wound, and picked up an oak barrel lid as a shield to block in front of you.
I'm not leaving you behind... Wait, what is that?
Scatter! Tentacles!
A massive tentacle lashes down without warning, slamming into the deck on a howl of wind, men burst into pulp, and the planking caves in.
Ngh...!!!
The injured Corposant wobbled and fell into the dark hole...
I've got you!
Just as Corposant was about to be completely swallowed by darkness, you successfully grasped her arm.
Fire spreads across the deck, searing your face, but you have no time to care.
Don't worry. I'm not leaving you.
I'm not worried about myself. I've been through worse than this. You, on the other hand...
...you can't hold on much longer.
I know. But I'm not letting go.
Why? You're a passenger. Protecting the crew isn't your duty.
This isn't about passengers or crew. It's because...
You never get to finish. The tentacle comes again, and though it veers off strangely in midair, death passes close enough for you to feel it.
In the face of a life-and-death crisis, you unleashed all your potential and pulled Corposant back to the deck.
Thank you. Your courage has my respect.
You say nothing. That brief surge of strength has left your arms aching and your head empty.
The tentacle... it turned away, didn't it? Why?
Could it be the fire on the deck?
Fire? I doubt it. That wouldn't explain why the sailors cut the power.
I know what it is. It's light...
Corposant's voice suddenly stopped. In the distance, in the flickering lightning, a huge figure was approaching.
It's too far off for you to make out its shape, but that vast body is impossible to ignore, even in the dark.
...It's finally here.
Hold on to the rail!
Then countless tentacles climb the Nautilus, dragging her down toward the seabed.
Seawater floods the deck and snuffs out every flame, leaving everything in absolute darkness.
Hahahaha, I see it now. @3 is the only faith...
@3, @3, an offering for the great @3.
Accept my offering, hahahaha, @4
People shriek, they scream, they lose their minds completely, but the dark swallows it all, only in the instant the lightning flashes can you see anything at all...
Jumping overboard, gouging out their eyes, tearing at their own flesh. In moments, the dead and the maimed are past counting.
These, these people too...
They've been affected too. The human mind is fragile, fear and the unknown push it into madness so easily. And what we're facing now... that's real horror.
For an ordinary person to look straight at it and keep their sanity is remarkable enough...
Your face...
My @1what@1?
Your syllables come out wrong. Something wet seeps from your eye sockets, and everything in front of you bleeds over until you can't make out a thing.
Corpo@1sant...
You last look towards Corposant, your vision forever plunging into darkness after a flash of blood red.
The person in front bled tears, lost all vitality, and Corposant gazed silently for a moment, then stood at attention, raising her right hand in a salute.
She presses a hand to her wound. Her eyes pass over the ones wailing, over the ones clawing to stay alive, over the ones already dead, and settle on the vast dark shape closing in.
In that hopeless dark, the Nautilus will go down, and everyone aboard will be buried in the lightless deep. This is how it ends.
Corposant grips the flag and walks toward the mast in the pouring rain. The mast is already broken, the radio is also destroyed, and the signal flags are missing, but it doesn't matter...
Right now, she is the Nautilus's signal flag.
The Nautilus can finally sail. Set out, Nautilus.
She climbs the mast and sings the song the sailors used to sing when the Nautilus first put out to sea.
They say hoist the sails now, and run along the plains of Mexico.
Weigh the anchor, and away we go.
Lightning flickers and roars overhead, but she is lost in the memory of all that laughter, and keeps climbing higher up the mast.
She's the fastest liner afloat, with the finest crew that ever sailed.
Away, Nautilus, away, along the plains of Mexico.
At the very top of the broken mast, the lightning is close enough to touch, ready to come down on her head at any moment. She doesn't flinch. She simply raises the flag high.
The AC flag means "Vessel in distress, immediate assistance required." The D flag means "Keep clear, vessel not under command."
But the flag she wants to fly, in the end, is the H flag: Pilot on board.
Reporting in. Per regulations, the H flag is to be flown atop the bridge. There is no bridge left, so I request permission to fly it on myself.
She reports to the empty air, then drapes the flag around herself. Blood soaks through the cloth, but she never sees it. All she sees is the lightning massing above her head...
BOOM... The first bolt comes down, lighting up the ship half-swallowed by the sea.
BOOM... The second bolt comes down. The vast horror is close now, and it meets her eyes the way a man looks down at an ant.
BOOM... The third bolt gathers, and falls.
With common copper and iron, we measure the paths of the stars. But the endless abyss keeps its own arithmetic.
Young Pilot, the salt sea will gather you into its arms at last, and you will burn as a wisp of light to guide the way.
In the last moment of her life, as the lightning takes her, she remembers the "Navigator's Lament", the song her old master taught her when she was still an apprentice Pilot.
The song tells of the hubris of Pilots who measure the heavens with mortal flesh, and of the sailors' belief that those Pilots become St. Elmo's Fire and go on guiding ships after death.
Let me become St. Elmo's Fire.
That is her final lament. Then, her flesh sears, the Dissolution fluid covering her body burns, and a burst of radiant light is unleashed.
The light floods everything around her, driving back the dark, and the light-fearing sea monster gives ground inch by inch.
As the tentacles slither away, the survivors lift their heads.
They saw a beam of light crossing the sea surface, the light emanated from Corposant's flag, continuously extending, pointing toward the nearest land.
4. Course Unwritten, before the fight
55 linesCorposant!
You wake with a start, back in your own room. It really was a dream.
At that moment, the door suddenly knocked. You open the door, and Corposant meets your gaze.
Keeper, sorry to disturb your rest, but I... I suddenly wanted to see you.
Is this about that dream? The one about the Nautilus?
A dream? So it really was you in there.
...How did you know it was me?
From the moment you said you wouldn't let go.
Keeper, I've been a Pilot long enough to tell why a passenger is really following me around.
And that look in your eyes, I've seen it too many times. A good pilot remembers every crew member aboard her ship.
...But I'm not one of your crew. Never mind. It doesn't matter.
What happened to the Nautilus in the end? I got cut off partway through, so I never saw how it ended.
The ending...
Corposant spoke with a smile full of pride on her face.
I did my duty as pilot. I brought the Nautilus in and ran her up onto the shore.
And the sea monster?
It left. The burning D-Slime lit up that whole stretch of water, and the wind and rain couldn't put it out. The thing had no choice but to go.
Wait, burning D-Slime? Don't tell me you...
It was the only thing I could think of at the time.
The deck was flooding, the sails and everything else that might have burned were soaked through with rain and seawater, and the monster was still out there. I had to choose, and choose fast.
...And then?
After... after that, there's no way you could have kept guiding the ship.
...That's right. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't see. I was dead, for all purposes. But I could still hear a few faint sounds.
I heard the helmsman shouting, over and over, "Hard to starboard!" "Follow the light, hold this heading!" And I heard people crying and screaming, so many of them.
Most of all, I heard the shore battery firing blanks. That was the harbor pulling survivors off the Nautilus.
As for what came after, I imagine you know that better than I do, Keeper.
Yes. The archives record how the Nautilus became a ghost ship, from start to finish, and they call its return to port a miracle.
That miracle was yours. A miracle of life.
No. I only did what I was supposed to do.
...Honestly, what you did went well beyond "duty."
Corposant's face showed a look of confusion, as if unable to understand the sentence.
Then let me put it another way. While you were doing all that, what was going through your mind?
Doing my duty as a pilot.
...And besides that?
Going over "Navigator's Lament," I think. It's a song pilots pass down by word of mouth. If I hadn't died, I would have taught it to my own apprentice.
...
You fell into silence, unsure of what to say, but Corposant's expression remained calm.
The song goes like this...
The sextant gleams, the charts lie open wide; we read the ciphers of the Southern Cross and reckon the secrets of the open sea.
With common copper and iron we measure the paths of the stars, but the endless abyss keeps its own arithmetic, fickle and unfathomable.
Young navigator, you will eventually be taken into the arms of the brine, transformed into a guiding phosphorescent flame.
Yet do not be afraid: the Black Ledger of Tides will set down your name, and bid the roaring waves sound an eternal requiem for you.
So the day I became a Pilot was the day I foresaw my own death.
...
You fall silent again, and it's a long while before you sigh.
I see. Every sacrifice you made, you made willingly.
Yes. And I'll go on steering a true course, whenever you need me.
Then I have a very important assignment for you, right now.
Corposant instantly straightened her body and corrected her expression.
Navigator Corposant is in position, awaiting the Keeper's instructions.
Come outside with me and unwind a little.
The way I see it, an Awakener is obliged to follow my orders, and I'm just as obliged to look after her.
We'll start with the Maritime Museum in London. There's no mission today anyway, so let's take the whole day off.
After saying that, you pull Corposant out of the room. You have a premonition that today will be the easiest day of Corposant's life.
September 14, Inn Under the company of the Keeper, I spent the most relaxed day of my life. However, the memories from the dream of the previous day linger like a shadow, with muscle spasms, bone cracks, and flesh burning, every breath is excruciatingly painful. But I do not regret my choice. As long as the ship is still afloat, I must fulfill my responsibilities; it has been this way in the past, and it is the same now. Because from the moment I became a navigator, I had already determined my end. Corposant