The Home Field Advantage
Well, I was born in the sign of water,
And it's there that I feel my best.
The albatross and the whale, they are my brothers.
--Little River Band, "Cool Change"
The Galitsin family yacht was over 200 feet long, a giant and glittery display of wealth beyond the need to worry about cost-effectiveness. Surely it had its uses, like tonight's: hosting a gathering of Kindred out on the water, where no normal folks would notice any dazzling displays of "immortal" immaturity. Overall, though, it was a multi-million dollar toy, and a blue collar guy like Tanner had no use for it.
No use, but probably a better sense of it than any of the other Kindred on board. He stood on the bow of the ship, hands in his old green fatigue jacket pockets, frowning at the fog rolling into the Puget Sound. Tanner had spent a majority of his Navy days crawling around in the dirt, rolling bandages for Marines, but he'd had plenty of time being a "real" sailor during his service. The old salt that captained his first ship made sure that none of the Fleet Marine Force guys forgot they were sailors first. He'd all but forced Tanner and a few others into earning their Surface Warfare Pins. Staring at the fog as it enveloped the ship, Tanner would have been grateful--if he wasn't so suspicious.
Weather's all wrong tonight for fog, Tanner thought. Rolling in on us like a wave. That's not right at all. He'd noticed it earlier, thought it was wierd then, but saw no reason not to be sociable. As the ship drew closer, though, he became more curious, and so he left the party inside.
The ship slipped lazily into the fog, and reflexively Tanner found himself in lookout mode. The fog was soon thick enough that he couldn't make out any of the lights of the Seattle shoreline, nor of any of the other ships on the Sound. What made things worse, as he quickly realized, was that he couldn't hear anything but the lapping of water on the yacht, and the hum of the engines. The railing seemed almost alive with static, too.
"Tanner?" a voice asked. He turned to see Billy Joe Bob joining him on deck. The old cowboy had good instincts, and perhaps those alone were reason to be suspicious. Tanner must have worn his own concerns on his face, as Billy Joe frowned, "Somethin' wrong?"
"Yeah," Tanner nodded quietly. "You hear anything? I mean anything at all? Should be foghorns in something this thick, at least."
Billy Joe cocked his head, straining to hear. "Nothin'," he said, "not a damn thing. Can't even hear th' city."
"I think something's really wrong here. Weather's all wrong for fog like this."
"I'm gonna go take a look," Billy Joe said, and walked around the superstructure and out of sight. For himself, Tanner walked back inside quickly, thinking to tell one of the hosts--and finding no one inside. No Kindred guests, no crew, just a dusty ballroom. Tanner blinked, growled at getting stuck in the Twilight Zone again, and stormed back out onto the deck.
He was greeted by the sight of a small black winged thing morphing into the shape of Billy Joe Bob. Oddly enough, the black cowboy hat was the first thing to take shape. "It's woojie shit," Tanner scowled. "The ballroom's empty, I can't find the crew. It's like we're on a different boat."
"Sheeit," BJB slurred. "Can't tell where we're goin' 'r where we been, neither."
"Let's head up to the bridge, see if radar can pick up anything," Tanner said, and BJB concurred. They made their way through the dusty but active ship. Confounded at first by a locked hatch, Tanner made just enough use of his Leatherman and memories of a misspent youth to avoid having BJB shred the thing. Inside, the bridge was dead; not a single crewman, nor a single light. Tanner quickly searched around, and swore like a sailor should when he found nary a chart for reference. Nothing but dead electronics. "Fuckin' lazy bastards usin' god damn GPS," he grumbled. "Probably can't dead reckon their way out of a fucking whorehouse." He turned to the helm, found it completely unresponsive, and growled.
"Maybe we oughta go shut down the engines 'fore we hit somethin'?" BJB suggested. It was a sensible idea; whatever was going on, trying to regain some control of the ship was certainly worth an effort. Tanner didn't know yachts, but he had to imagine that there was some sort of auxilliary helm in the aft section of the ship.
"Let's give it a shot," Tanner said. They made their way below, pausing at Tanner's suggestion to check on the viability of the lifeboats and to raid them for supplies. Tanner pulled the survival kit off of one of them, while BJB appropriated a fireax from a nearby bulkhead.
They were just negotiating with the secured hatch to Engineering ("Lemme take a crack at that," BJB said, taking Tanner's Leatherman) when Nina came down the ladder. She was confused at first, and didn't believe their story until they interrupted their efforts to get through the hatch to take her up to the empty ballroom, and then back down again.
Soon, they returned to the engineering hatch. Nina asked them to watch her body while she "took a look around," and promptly went limp--only to return to consciousness in a few moments. "I can see everyone on the ship, but it's like they're flickering. I can't get anyone to see me. It's... it's wierd."
Frowns exchanged all around again, BJB went back to work on the lock keeping the hatch closed. Within a few moments, he had it open, and the three stepped warily inside.
"Woah," Tanner breathed, looking at the engines. "That ain't right at all."
The engines, at least, were alive, and feeding some very non-standard machinery attached via heavy cables. Tanner cocked an eyebrow curiously at the machinery--a mass of large capacitors and other odd things on a framework, with smaller cables leading out all over the hull and, now that he looked closer, probably fed throughout the ship. It was clever enough that an inexperienced eye might not have identified it, but Tanner had earned done his time on more than a few ships. He knew a ship's engine from a... contraption. Tanner pointed it out and looked to Nina. "Do you have any idea what all this is?"
The odd member out of the Galitsin clan sat down miserably, looking on in despair. "That's Anton," she said finally.
"What? How do you know?"
"That's his symbol on it," she pointed. "Only he could get in here and... I didn't know he hated us so much." She looked with worry at Tanner's curious face, as if to ask him not to press for more detail.
At a loss, Tanner grasped at what to say, but BJB snapped him into the here and now. "You think this's got anything t' do with whut's goin' on?"
"Gotta be," Tanner said. "It's pulling a lot of power off the engines--they don't both need to be going at this speed--and those cables look like they're running out all over the ship on the inside. It's probably what's keeping us on this ghost-ship. Not that I know how the hell it works. But I can turn off the engines," Tanner blinked. He went quickly to work, and within a few minutes the engines were silent.
Nothing happened.
"Think we oughta cut this thing off?" BJB asked.
"Yeah, I guess. Not really sure how to take the wires off safely. I don't know how long it's going to take to discharge, but the handle on that axe is wood, right?"
BJB nodded, took a step away, and gave the cables a good whack--and was promptly blown off his feet by the resultant explosion. His axe destroyed, his hands painfully charred, he grimaced through the pain and glared at Tanner. "Next time, you get t' hold the axe."
The three stepped out of Engineering, wondering what to do next, and in the blink of an eye the lights were on, the engines were humming again, and the door was closed. Other party guests came down the ladder, as if they'd been looking around for the missing three. There was no more fog. Upon re-opening the Engineering space, there was no more machine, either.
It was an odd thing, to think that someone as clearly resourceful and clever as this Anton wouldn't expect anyone on the ship to know enough to figure out what was going on. His device was obvious enough, at least to Tanner, but probably to anyone with some engineering experience as well. Hell, Billy Joe guessed right off the bat that turning off the engines was a good idea.
Oddly enough, Tanner was relieved. For once, the woojie shit wasn't so far out of his element.
((It's not SWRE, but I had a really good time with this game. Apologies if I'm putting words in Billy Joe Bob or Nina's mouths.))
And it's there that I feel my best.
The albatross and the whale, they are my brothers.
--Little River Band, "Cool Change"
The Galitsin family yacht was over 200 feet long, a giant and glittery display of wealth beyond the need to worry about cost-effectiveness. Surely it had its uses, like tonight's: hosting a gathering of Kindred out on the water, where no normal folks would notice any dazzling displays of "immortal" immaturity. Overall, though, it was a multi-million dollar toy, and a blue collar guy like Tanner had no use for it.
No use, but probably a better sense of it than any of the other Kindred on board. He stood on the bow of the ship, hands in his old green fatigue jacket pockets, frowning at the fog rolling into the Puget Sound. Tanner had spent a majority of his Navy days crawling around in the dirt, rolling bandages for Marines, but he'd had plenty of time being a "real" sailor during his service. The old salt that captained his first ship made sure that none of the Fleet Marine Force guys forgot they were sailors first. He'd all but forced Tanner and a few others into earning their Surface Warfare Pins. Staring at the fog as it enveloped the ship, Tanner would have been grateful--if he wasn't so suspicious.
Weather's all wrong tonight for fog, Tanner thought. Rolling in on us like a wave. That's not right at all. He'd noticed it earlier, thought it was wierd then, but saw no reason not to be sociable. As the ship drew closer, though, he became more curious, and so he left the party inside.
The ship slipped lazily into the fog, and reflexively Tanner found himself in lookout mode. The fog was soon thick enough that he couldn't make out any of the lights of the Seattle shoreline, nor of any of the other ships on the Sound. What made things worse, as he quickly realized, was that he couldn't hear anything but the lapping of water on the yacht, and the hum of the engines. The railing seemed almost alive with static, too.
"Tanner?" a voice asked. He turned to see Billy Joe Bob joining him on deck. The old cowboy had good instincts, and perhaps those alone were reason to be suspicious. Tanner must have worn his own concerns on his face, as Billy Joe frowned, "Somethin' wrong?"
"Yeah," Tanner nodded quietly. "You hear anything? I mean anything at all? Should be foghorns in something this thick, at least."
Billy Joe cocked his head, straining to hear. "Nothin'," he said, "not a damn thing. Can't even hear th' city."
"I think something's really wrong here. Weather's all wrong for fog like this."
"I'm gonna go take a look," Billy Joe said, and walked around the superstructure and out of sight. For himself, Tanner walked back inside quickly, thinking to tell one of the hosts--and finding no one inside. No Kindred guests, no crew, just a dusty ballroom. Tanner blinked, growled at getting stuck in the Twilight Zone again, and stormed back out onto the deck.
He was greeted by the sight of a small black winged thing morphing into the shape of Billy Joe Bob. Oddly enough, the black cowboy hat was the first thing to take shape. "It's woojie shit," Tanner scowled. "The ballroom's empty, I can't find the crew. It's like we're on a different boat."
"Sheeit," BJB slurred. "Can't tell where we're goin' 'r where we been, neither."
"Let's head up to the bridge, see if radar can pick up anything," Tanner said, and BJB concurred. They made their way through the dusty but active ship. Confounded at first by a locked hatch, Tanner made just enough use of his Leatherman and memories of a misspent youth to avoid having BJB shred the thing. Inside, the bridge was dead; not a single crewman, nor a single light. Tanner quickly searched around, and swore like a sailor should when he found nary a chart for reference. Nothing but dead electronics. "Fuckin' lazy bastards usin' god damn GPS," he grumbled. "Probably can't dead reckon their way out of a fucking whorehouse." He turned to the helm, found it completely unresponsive, and growled.
"Maybe we oughta go shut down the engines 'fore we hit somethin'?" BJB suggested. It was a sensible idea; whatever was going on, trying to regain some control of the ship was certainly worth an effort. Tanner didn't know yachts, but he had to imagine that there was some sort of auxilliary helm in the aft section of the ship.
"Let's give it a shot," Tanner said. They made their way below, pausing at Tanner's suggestion to check on the viability of the lifeboats and to raid them for supplies. Tanner pulled the survival kit off of one of them, while BJB appropriated a fireax from a nearby bulkhead.
They were just negotiating with the secured hatch to Engineering ("Lemme take a crack at that," BJB said, taking Tanner's Leatherman) when Nina came down the ladder. She was confused at first, and didn't believe their story until they interrupted their efforts to get through the hatch to take her up to the empty ballroom, and then back down again.
Soon, they returned to the engineering hatch. Nina asked them to watch her body while she "took a look around," and promptly went limp--only to return to consciousness in a few moments. "I can see everyone on the ship, but it's like they're flickering. I can't get anyone to see me. It's... it's wierd."
Frowns exchanged all around again, BJB went back to work on the lock keeping the hatch closed. Within a few moments, he had it open, and the three stepped warily inside.
"Woah," Tanner breathed, looking at the engines. "That ain't right at all."
The engines, at least, were alive, and feeding some very non-standard machinery attached via heavy cables. Tanner cocked an eyebrow curiously at the machinery--a mass of large capacitors and other odd things on a framework, with smaller cables leading out all over the hull and, now that he looked closer, probably fed throughout the ship. It was clever enough that an inexperienced eye might not have identified it, but Tanner had earned done his time on more than a few ships. He knew a ship's engine from a... contraption. Tanner pointed it out and looked to Nina. "Do you have any idea what all this is?"
The odd member out of the Galitsin clan sat down miserably, looking on in despair. "That's Anton," she said finally.
"What? How do you know?"
"That's his symbol on it," she pointed. "Only he could get in here and... I didn't know he hated us so much." She looked with worry at Tanner's curious face, as if to ask him not to press for more detail.
At a loss, Tanner grasped at what to say, but BJB snapped him into the here and now. "You think this's got anything t' do with whut's goin' on?"
"Gotta be," Tanner said. "It's pulling a lot of power off the engines--they don't both need to be going at this speed--and those cables look like they're running out all over the ship on the inside. It's probably what's keeping us on this ghost-ship. Not that I know how the hell it works. But I can turn off the engines," Tanner blinked. He went quickly to work, and within a few minutes the engines were silent.
Nothing happened.
"Think we oughta cut this thing off?" BJB asked.
"Yeah, I guess. Not really sure how to take the wires off safely. I don't know how long it's going to take to discharge, but the handle on that axe is wood, right?"
BJB nodded, took a step away, and gave the cables a good whack--and was promptly blown off his feet by the resultant explosion. His axe destroyed, his hands painfully charred, he grimaced through the pain and glared at Tanner. "Next time, you get t' hold the axe."
The three stepped out of Engineering, wondering what to do next, and in the blink of an eye the lights were on, the engines were humming again, and the door was closed. Other party guests came down the ladder, as if they'd been looking around for the missing three. There was no more fog. Upon re-opening the Engineering space, there was no more machine, either.
It was an odd thing, to think that someone as clearly resourceful and clever as this Anton wouldn't expect anyone on the ship to know enough to figure out what was going on. His device was obvious enough, at least to Tanner, but probably to anyone with some engineering experience as well. Hell, Billy Joe guessed right off the bat that turning off the engines was a good idea.
Oddly enough, Tanner was relieved. For once, the woojie shit wasn't so far out of his element.
((It's not SWRE, but I had a really good time with this game. Apologies if I'm putting words in Billy Joe Bob or Nina's mouths.))