In Seclusion

Chapter 1

Gustave came out of his office on Dauphin Street and looked at the sparse traffic. The locals considered their town a booming place with increased port traffic after dredging a channel to allow for ocean going steamships. He saw the changes after only a couple of years, but it was nothing compared to New Orleans, the city that had been his home. He slipped on his gloves, adjusted his coat, and headed toward the docks.

He had left New Orleans because it was a bustling city, people coming from all over to put into the docks and prowl the city. For the last few years, he worked on a project he had toyed with since he was a teenager. At first, it was just a fantasy, some fiction he dreamed up to occupy his mind, one that he struggled to calm, even for sleep. Then he found the books. Books on new scientific discoveries. He found one in New Orleans, then traveled to Cambridge and Paris and Berlin seeking other volumes. He found books on magnetism, electricity, internal combustion engines, and batteries. He read them cover to cover, so many times he practically knew them by heart. And he expanded upon them, did his own experiments in a warehouse at the docks. As he ran his experiments, he could hear steamships heading upriver or out to the gulf, men yelling and moving cargo, and loose boards of the docks slapping down on their supports when heavy laden carts rolled over them. He had been a young man then, barely out of his twenties, and over the next ten years he began to think differently of his experiments.

After sitting in cafes and bars, listening to the leaders of industry talk, he knew he would not share his discoveries with the likes of these men. They didn’t deserve the results of his research and experimentation. Instead, he began to think of his research as a means of escape. He never felt like he fit into this new world of industry, with its belching smokestacks and foul run-offs that polluted the waters. London had been an absolute horror, and strolling the docks in New Orleans, he knew the small city was just as bad.

But there was another reason he wanted to escape. Adrien Gustave Fontaine was thirty-four years old and a confirmed bachelor per the gossip of his neighbors, but he wasn’t single because he had failed to find a woman who would find him a suitable mate, but rather he wasn’t attracted to women at all. He was drawn to men, others like himself, educated and curious about the world. It was difficult living in New Orleans, for most of the men he met were uneducated dock workers, sailors on shore leave, and travelers through the city. There were a couple of men he met regularly, the baker’s assistant in Jackson Square and the son of a farmer who lived upriver, coming into town for supplies every two or three months. They satisfied his lust and desires but only for a short time. He tried to picture a life with the two men, but he could never make it seem real, and it would have required great sacrifice on his part, especially Simon, the farmer.  

When news of the channel project in Mobile was to get underway, he knew what he had to do. He moved to the smaller city with its struggling port, setting up a shop north of it, a short ride on horse to come into town where he had a business front set up, one that would keep attention away from the old, converted barn north of town.

It was time to execute his plan. He had a small group ready to go with him. His sister and her husband, an engineer like himself, a young scientist out of Cambridge and his family, a wife and two young children, a contractor from the docks, and a host of others, all making their way to Mobile. There would be over a hundred of them, requiring two vessels, not one, something that caused him to rush into production five years ago. With the build done in modules and sections, those involved in manufacture and assembly had no idea what the final product would be. He knew there were questions about why the components were to be shipped to Mobile and not New Orleans or Charleston. But he made up one story after the next knowing if someone ever tried to back track to work out what he had done, it would be impossible. To some, he was building a water hydraulic station, or a new smelting facility, and to others a new ginmill. It was only the core group, those going with him, that knew the truth.

The waters of the bay were flat with no movement of air over it. Nothing to stir the grass and trees along its banks or ripple its surface. Gustave wondered why men were required to wear jackets, gloves, and hats in such miserable heat. It was stifling, with its high humidity. Wiping his brow with a gloved hand, he made his way along the docks looking for someone.

He had seen him before. Directing the construction of an office building at the docks, at the restaurant near his office, and one evening, when he was so stir-crazy he roamed the town until he came to a bar that catering to blacks, and he boldly entered the establishment. He had been flustered to find himself standing at the bar right next to the man. He knew him to be tall, taller than most, with a lean muscular build, with dark skin and eyes even darker, and hair just long enough to see its natural curly nature.

I think you’re lost, my friend the bartender had said, and even now Gustave could picture the large man with biceps that stretched the sleeves of his shirt.

I’m…I’m terribly sorry. I meant no offense or trespass he had replied as he backed toward the door and slipped out.

Since that night, he had pondered this infatuation he had for him. Jean-Louis Dubois, a French American who had studied architecture in Paris and Engineering in England, where Gustave wasn’t sure. Jean-Louis was single, over thirty, and known to be a quiet chap who kept to himself. It gave Gustave hope Jean-Louis was more than just shy, maybe he was attracted to men too. The man would be a perfect addition to his group. An engineer and architect, someone who could work in steel and aluminum and glass, where most he knew struggled still with masonry and wood.

He came to a large building under construction. To its right the blacksmith shops and behind it a sawmill. It had to be the building Jean-Louis was overseeing. For Mobile, it was a large building, steel beams being set in place on steel columns, although it would only be three floors. It was a relatively new construction type, this building with steel in lieu of wood or masonry, and Gustave had seen the possibilities. He had his own construction projects underway, each location doing a small part of the overall whole. It was a precaution, a way to conceal the construction’s true purpose. If word got out what he was having built, most, if not all, would consider him mad.

As he drew near the construction site, he saw him, Jean-Louis Dubois. Tall and so attractive with his shirt unbuttoned revealing the sweating chest, it made Gustave breathless. He gathered his courage and approached the man carrying roles of blueprints.

“Excuse me, Jean-Louis Dubois?”

“Yes, how can I help you,” said Jean-Louis, sounding distracted and anything but wanting to have a conversation with a stranger.

“My name is Adrien Gustave Fontaine, and I was wondering if we could have a word. It’s about a rather…unusual project I have underway.”

“Unusual? Are you reaching for the sky with steel framing. You know some in Chicago are already planning to go higher than anyone before.”

“I’ve heard, but no, I have something else in mind. Something I must beg for discretion.”

“A secret project? Is it for the government?”

“No, it is a private affair.”

“I’m curious. Let me talk to the foreman, then you can tell me about this…unusual project.”

 

The diner catered to the black workers of the docks, and Gustave found himself the only white man in the place. He saw the stares, knowing he was considered trespassing in one of the few places a black man could go without harassment.

“I’m sorry, but there are not many places that will serve me,” said Jean-Louis.

“No need to apologize to me. I know it is not your doing. It’s shameful, this racism.”

“Well, regardless of the North winning the war and the laws, I’m afraid it has done nothing to change the minds of some men.”

Gustave turned to face Jean-Louis, leaning forward so he could lower his voice. He set his gloves to the side and glanced around once.

“I’m afraid I no longer wish to change men’s minds. I look to create my own paradise away from all of this…”  He was at a loss for words. How to tell Jean-Louis he was sick of the attitudes, the barbaric nature of most men, and the way this industrial age is creating a capitalism that is unvarnished greed.

“Paradise?”

“Well, that is a bit of an exaggeration. But it will be a place that is equitable.”

Jean-Louis laughed, good-naturedly, shaking his head.

“Nothing in this life is equitable.”

“Yes, true, but we can do better. Much better.”

“So, Mr. Fontaine, will you be looking for the fountain of youth next?”

“I know my description is too vague. Come to my home, after we dine, and let me show you my plans, and why I need you to help me bring them together.”

“Let’s order lunch, then I’ll see if I’m curious enough about these plans to go to your home. I admit, the audacity of what you insinuate has me piqued.”

 

Outside the darken windows overlooking St. Anthony Street, the town was quiet, just the slow clop of a horse and its rider passing broke the silence. Jean-Louis was leaning back staring across the dining table at Gustave. The candles fluttered from a breeze, casting a flickering light over the documents spread out between. He picked up the glass that Gustave refilled with the dark golden bourbon and sipped it slowly. He no longer felt the warmth of its passage down to his stomach, just the way it seemed to slow time, to make the room warm and cozy, smaller than first impressions.

“You have this project that needs more engineers, one that is ready to construct,” said Jean-Louis.

“That is correct.”

“But you won’t tell me where unless I agree to be a part of the project.”

“To be more precise, I won’t reveal its location until after we depart.”

“Its location is that much of a secret?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve gathered scientists, doctors, contractors, and other engineers who have agreed to these terms?”

“Yes.”

“And what are you offering them?”

“The same as you. A new life where you’ll be treated equally. A chance to live in a just and free society.”

“And monetary compensation?”

“You’ll have the compensation needed to live as a wealthy man here in this country.”

“That is a vague response, Mr. Fontaine.”

“I know but tell you more could compromise the project.”

“Why me?”

Gustave smiled, looked out the window, then after a long few seconds, turned back to Jean-Louis.

“I must confess, I’m not sure why I chose you. I know…I was drawn to you. And I’ve seen some of your work and read about the projects elsewhere.”

“Drawn to me?”

Gustave blushed. He wondered if the candlelight concealed it.

“You know some men have…needs…that are different than most men,” said Gustave.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

It seemed like a dare. Almost an accusation, the way Gustave replied to Jean-Louis.

“Gustave, what do you imply?”

“I…nothing. Let’s forget it. Shall we call it a night?”

“It is late.”

“Too late to be out and about. Why not stay here for the night. There is a guest bedroom next to mine.”

Jean-Louis began to say no, he would be on his way, but he hesitated. It was the look Gustave had been giving him, one he recognized. He leaned back, unsure if it was wise. A black man staying at a white man’s house as equals.

“If it is no trouble, I’d be thankful for the accommodations.”

“It is no trouble at all.”

 

Gustave lay awake. He knew it was late, for he had been lying in bed so long his legs and arms felt numb. He shifted again, turning to his right side, staring toward the door of his bedroom. As he stared at the door, he heard Jean-Louis padding down the hall going to the bathroom. He wondered if Jean-Louis had been laying awake the same as he, but he knew the man could have just woken to the need to go to the bathroom.

He lay quiet, barely breathing, waiting for Jean-Louis to come back out of the bathroom. After what seemed far too long, he heard the toilet flush, water running, then the door open. The pad of feet moved down the hall, louder than before, and Gustave realized Jean-Louis was standing outside his door.

“Gastave…are you awake?” whispered Jean-Louis.

Gustave sat up and looked at the door, wondering if he should respond. He wanted to respond, to get up and open the door and face him as he did. He swung his feet to the floor, knowing Jean-Louis could hear the squeak of his bed as he moved.

“Yes.”

A long silence, one so long Gustave started to stand to go to the door.

“Can I come in?” Jean-Louis spoke so softly Gustave barely heard him. He heard the nervousness of the voice, and it comforted him to know he wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

“The door is unlocked.”

Jean-Louis entered the dark bedroom, just a silhouette to Gustave. A tall, masculine silhouette that he watched with desire. A few steps and Jean-Louis was standing by the bed. Gustave started to toss back the blankets to invite him into his bed. Instead, he pushed the blankets back enough to allow him to swing his legs to the side of the bed, one on each side of Jean-Louis. He looked at the silhouette as he reached out, his hand shivering despite the sweltering heat still lingering in the air.

“Will you sleep with me?” Gustave whispered.

“Yes.”

Gustave touched the bare thigh just below the undergarment. He felt the smooth skin, fingers circling over it. He reached out with his other hand and touched the other thigh. He slid them upward, pushing at the hem as far as it would go, then rubbed over the soft fabric until he felt the cock. He felt along its growing length and manipulated the head until it was stretched out and hard. He leaned forward and put his mouth on it. He kissed it, mouthed along its length, moaning and shivering with desire. He tugged the garment down until the cock popped out hitting him in the face and the garment landed around the ankles. He held the cock steady and sucked the head into his mouth, then he pushed forward taking all he could into his mouth, his hand still around the base of it.

Gustave manipulated the cock with his mouth. He tongued it, slid lips along its length, and he stroked it as he sucked on the head. Jean-Louis began to pump it into his mouth, at first slowly, gently, but as Jean-Louis became more aroused, hands held his head as cock pumped into his mouth. He held still and let Jean-Louis fuck. Let the big, tall man use him, use his mouth, for he wanted it like none before. He felt his own cock struggle to stretch out in the confines of his garments as cock pushed into his throat.

“Take it,” Jean-Louis uttered.

Cum flooded Gustave’s mouth. The thick load filled his mouth to overflowing and it trickled down his chin as he swallowed and swallowed as much as he could.

 

Jean-Louis pushed Gustave to his back, and he held his legs up letting Jean-Louis strip off his garments. His cock flopped against his stomach, hard and leaking. Jean-Louis grabbed his legs and dragged his ass to the edge of the mattress. He watched him, lean over and take his cock in the mouth as fingers toyed with his tightening sac. The fingers moved the nuts around as the mouth descended then dragged the tongue upward until swirling around the wet head.  The mouth manipulated the head as fingers moved below the sac, raking over his ass. One finger penetrated him, then two, as the mouth kept working his cock. He was close, so goddamn close, and he threw his head back and slapped at the mattress.

His cock was released and the fingers pulled free of his ass. He raised up ready to cry out no, and saw the silhouette of Jean-Louis, enough to see the man stroking his very hard cock. He raised his legs and watched Jean-Louis take each ankle spreading them wide apart. He watched the man bend at the knees and move to him until cock touched his ass. It was raked up and down his ass then pressed to his opening. He calmed his breathing and pushed against it for he wanted the cock. He wanted it with such desire he was breathless.

Jean-Louis penetrated him, stretched his opening and sank into his depths, and he moaned and shivered with the pain/pleasure of it.

Their fuck was not slow or gentle. Gustave rocked and bounced on the bed as Jean-Louis hammered his insides, thrusting every inch of cock into him. He clutched at the bed and arched his body, pushing against Jean-Louis. The fullness of the penetration, how Jean-Louis burrowed deep into his body, made his cock drool on his stomach.

Jean-Louis pulled out and manhandled him, turning him on the bed so he too could get on it. Jean-Louis held his legs behind the knees and pushed forward and down, sinking the knees into the mattress either side of his torso. His ass angled upward, perfect for Jean-Louis’ fuck, and he cried out when Jean-Louis shoved every inch into his depths and began to fuck. Fuck hard. Hips smacked against his upturned ass and the bed squeaked and banged into the wall. His own cock bounced on his stomach as Jean-Louis pumped cock into his depths at a furious pace.

Gustave couldn’t hold back. Jean-Louis was too physical, and he grabbed the headboard and clutched desperately to it as his cock exploded. Cum roped up his chest and its scent filled the room. As his cock spurt wad after wad, his ass spasm around Jean-Louis’ cock. Then Jean-Louis buried it in his depths and shuddered with his own release.

 

Without opening his eyes, Gustave woke sometime before daylight. He felt a hand with fingers splayed wide apart on his stomach. Hot exhales caressed the back of his neck. A warm body with hard cock nestled up to his back. He pictured Jean-Louis, dark skinned, tall and muscular. He replayed their sex, the physical nature of it. How he had sat on the man’s cock and rode it until he stroked to release. How the man became gentle once spent, kissing his mouth, licking the cum from his chest and stomach, and licking it from his spent cock. How they didn’t need words to know Jean-Louis wasn’t to leave his bed, but to remain in it, to sleep next to him.

He felt the nature of the man, knowing how taboo it would be to so many. Not only was Jean-Louis black, but their sex was more egregious. By every measure society would condemn them. But in the darkness of the night, he knew the truth, how the color of a man’s skin didn’t matter. For in the throes of sex, it didn’t matter if a man was light skinned or dark skinned or some shade in-between. It didn’t matter about the nature of their hair or the color of their eyes. In the dark, they were alike, both just men, men who enjoyed the other’s companionship. And their sex.

Jean-Louis stirred, asked in a whisper if he was awake. Gustave answered by reaching between them and putting Jean-Louis’ cock to his opening and pushing back on it.

 

 

For six months, Gustave and Jean-Louis meet secretly, knowing society would not tolerate a relationship between two men, much less one that included a black man. They visited the other’s home late in the night, or down at the docks where Jean-Louis’ project was located, Gustave arriving long after the last contractor had left. And for six months, Gustave gave Jean-Louis more details of his project. It was to be steel frame and panels, double-walled with an insulation of wool between them. There was a new secret composite material being used for interior panels and special glass panes. It sounded fantastical to Jean-Louis, but he saw the drawings and invoices, wondering how Gustave could afford such an endeavor.

Where Gustave got his money, he never revealed. It added to the project’s secret nature, and as time went on, Jean-Louis found himself as secretive about it as Gustave. Something shared between them, like their relationship.

On the night of October 17, 1892, a carriage hired by Gustave picked Jean-Louis up on the corner of Dauphin Street and Jackson Street. Gustave had said it was time to reveal all for it was time to leave. The carriage made its way to Water Street and headed north.  At One Mile Creek, the carriage took Telegraph Road. They traveled for only about thirty minutes, turning on a dirt track that led back to the Mobile River. They came to an old barn that was lit up, revealing workspaces inside. The carriage pulled to a stop and Jean-Louis climbed down.

“You made it,” said Gustave.

“Yes, it seems I have. What is this place?”

“It’s where we assembled our vessels for travel to the project site.”

“Vessels? Ships?”

“Not exactly. Come, let me show you.”

Jean-Louis followed Gustave past the barn to a long building of such proportions he had not seen since visiting a railway facility in Europe. The silhouette against the dark sky made them even larger. Gustave opened a door and Jean-Louis was shocked to see how brightly the interior was lit up. He stared in amazement at the artificial light strung over the space.

“Where did you get those lights?”

“We had them made in England. They are not ironed out yet, but we’re working on it. They don’t last as long as we hoped. About thirty days or so and we’re having to replace the bulbs.”

“They’re magnificent.”

Then Jean-Louis looked down at the two vessels sitting in a channel that ran the span of the building. They were low in the water, with a small, raised section in the middle of each. He approached the nearest trying to square it against the steamships he had seen in Europe and New Orleans.

“What are these vessels?”

“Submarines.”

“Submarines? You mean they travel beneath the surface of the water?”

“Yes.”

“And we’re to leave in them?”

“Yes. The others are gathered in the barn. There will be twenty-two of us in each vessel. Others will join us at our first destination, Newfoundland.”

“Newfoundland?”

“We will gather there where we have cargo ships waiting. From there we will go to the project site.”

“Which is where?”

“To the south, about halfway to Bermuda.”

“But there is no land mass in that region.”

Gustave smiled then turned to the nearest vessel. He walked to the gangplank, taking a hold of the rail as if about to cross over.

“This is the Poseidon and that is the Pontus.”

“And they are…safe?”

“Oh, very safe. We have done several runs with each one. The last time, they were kept at sea for a week.”

“And we will depart tonight?”

Gustave looked up to see the others coming in, led by Marion Taylor, the Captain for the Pontus. Jean-Louis turned to see where the voices were coming from and was surprised to see a mix of men and women, and even a few children.

“This way, come, everyone, gather around,” yelled Gustave. “I hope everyone is as excited as I, for it is time we embark on our journey to a new life. You know which vessel you are stationed on, so proceed to your quarters. Your belongings are already stowed away.”

“Gustave, which vessel will—”

“Why, you’re with me, of course, on the Poseidon. Come, let me show you to our quarters.”

“We’ll be together?”

“Yes, Jean-Louis, we’ll be together, from now on, for as long as you’ll be my companion.”

 

One hour later the Pontus headed down the Mobile River with the Poseidon following behind it. Before getting near Mobile, they submerged just beneath the surface and headed south toward the Gulf of Mexico. Once out of the bay and deeper waters, they descended to a depth that would conceal them from ships that might pass overhead.

 

Chapter 2

Dr. Albert Brown swam as fast as he could. He swam until his arms and legs were so fatigued, he could no longer feel them as he struggled to keep his head above water. It was just pure instinct, the innate determination of a human to fight to survive. Behind him, he heard another explosion and dared not to look back. Would it be a curse to do so, he wondered, as he pictured his last image of the HMHS Llandovery Castle as it was going down. It was a hospital ship heading toward England when a German U-boat torpedoed it. It was a war crime, but in a war to end all wars, what was one more war crime.

He tried to remember what brought Europe and the United Kingdom to war. He knew it was Germany against France and England at first, the three of them pushing for control of the other, or so he thought. Maybe that was all wrong because he was cold and exhausted and wondering if he should have gone down with the ship. It would have been so easy.

What day was it, he wondered, his mind jumping around as he slowed, unable to keep going. It had been the 26th of June the day before, the year…the year…1918. He treaded water as he turned to see the HMHS Llandovery Castle sink from view, then he saw the German U-boat. It was approaching some lifeboats and once near, opened fire with automatic machine guns, cutting the boats and the people in them to ribbons. It was hopeless, no one could survive this cruelty, and he took one more breath and let his body sink beneath the surface.

He opened his eyes to the dark waters wondering if he was dead yet. He gasped for breath drawing in a lung full of water. It carried him down faster. He was about to lose consciousness when he saw a light. As it neared, it split into two, then four lights with the silhouette of some strange life form behind them. Then he blacked out.

 

Jules Chevalier maneuvered the Mantarog toward the descending body. He had begged the captain to let him search for survivors, emphasizing how most on the ship would be doctors or nurses. It wasn’t something he knew as factual, but he would take any excuse to use the small research vessel to look for survivors. He was only nineteen years old but had logged more hours on the Mantarog than most men. He had been only thirteen when Jean-Louis Dubois had given him his first opportunity to operate it. They had been off the coast of Spain, searching wrecks for certain metals. He demonstrated his skill showing the lessons back at Tiamat had not been in vain. He was smooth with the controls and able to slip into the tightest of places.

The little ship had a top profile of a stingray but from the side the central body was thicker with windows top and bottom along the front. There was a control stick for each hand and a pedal for each foot. It took coordination to operate the vessel, and Jules was one who could walk on his hands, or cross a span on a cable, or climb a structure with ease, showing no fear of heights or confined spaces. Gustave said he was made for the vessel when Jules got his certification to operate it.

Now he approached the body, seeing the man was unconscious. He maneuvered over him, opening the hatch, and putting the craft in a holding pattern, he used the grappling arm to capture the man and lift him on board. Once the hatch was closed, Jules put the craft on a float, holding steady at his current depth, so he could check on the man. He grabbed the medical kit and moved next to him. He unbuttoned the shirt and listened for a heartbeat. There was none.

He took the pulse device from the kit, putting the pads in place, then cranked the charge. When it hit 200, he hit the switch. The body arced off the deck with the shock, but the man remained still. He cranked the pulse to 300 and hit the switch. The man arched off the deck, then began to cough. Jules helped the man to roll to his side enabling him to expel the water from his lungs.

“Take it easy. You’re going to be alright. Just breathe,” Jules coached until the man began to settle down. He choked one more time, then got his breath. He looked around the small craft then to Jules. “Where am I?”

“You’re on board my craft. I rescued you. You were drowning.”

“Yes, I remember that very distinctly. And the Llandovery Castle…it has sunk?”

“Yes.”

“And all aboard are dead?”

“No, one lifeboat made it.”

“The Germans didn’t shoot them?”

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jules Chevalier, citizen of Tiamat.”

“Tiamat? Never heard of it.”

“No, I’m sure you haven’t. What is your name?”

“I’m Dr. Albert Brown of Cambridge and I must get to England.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s get back to the Poseidon and I’ll let Gustave explain everything.”

“And who is this Gustave?”

“The captain of the Poseidon and First Citizen of Tiamat.”

“Well, turn your boat around and take me to this captain of yours.”

Jules moved back into the bridge, letting Dr. Brown follow him. The bridge was cramped, but had seats for three, two back and either side of the steering. Jules sat at steering, not noticing how the doctor came up short when he realized they were not on a boat but in a vessel beneath the surface.

“What is this craft?”

“It’s a research vessel from the Poseidon. Take a seat and we’ll head back.”

“The Poseidon? It is larger than this…research vessel?”

Jules laughed and looked back. “Much larger. It has a crew of forty-three but if need, it can carry a crew of sixty.”

“Sixty men? And is it like this vessel? It travels underwater?”

“Yes. All our vessels are submarines of one type or another.”

 

Dr. Brown stood in the room provided him on the Poseidon. He stared at the wall not seeing it. He was seeing the Poseidon, a vessel so massive he could only see sections of it within their smaller submarine’s lights. He was seeing the bridge with its large windows allowing one to view the ocean they were moving through. He was seeing the crew he passed as Jules led him to his quarters, a mixture of men and women. It was shocking. He turned and looked at the clean clothes on the bed replaying Jules’ directions.

Two doors down is the shower room. In the alcove you’ll see signs for Men on the left and Women on the right.

Towels are in the closet in your room, along with the toiletries you will need.

Dr. Brown, take a shower and get some rest.

Dr. Brown glanced in the mirror secured on the closet door, seeing how disheveled he appeared. His hair matted down, his clothes still damp and wrinkled with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down and missing a couple of buttons. He looked as he felt. Someone who had been dumped into the ocean and forced to swim for it.

Then he thought of the young man who saved him. Jules Chevalier, a French name but Jules didn’t sound like someone from France. Jules’ English was good, but not the Queen’s English, more like an American’s English. In the quiet of his quarters, he allowed himself to think about the attractive nature of Jules. The dark hair, the tall lean build, but one muscular when he considered how the biceps flexed when helping him get to his feet.

Then he thought of the other men he had seen when moving through the submarine. Most appeared to be in their early twenties, but a few appeared closer to his age of thirty-two. They were all tall, muscular, and each attractive in their own way. The confinement of the submarine with so many men within it, his time on board would be a challenge. He picked up the clean clothes, telling himself he would need to stay in his room.

Entering the showers, he saw sinks along one wall and along the opposite, stalls for water closets. But what really caught his eye was the open showers along the back of the room where Jules Chevalier was bathing. The muscular body captured his eye. Suds slid down the smooth skin and the cock hung heavy over its sac. Jules was shampooing his hair, then moved under the shower, head tilted back, to rinse the soap from it. Dr. Brown moved hesitantly to the showers, setting his things on a bench where a robe and towel lay. He turned his back to Jules, afraid of being caught staring and stripped out of his clothes, laying each garment on the bench. Once naked, he felt exposed like never before, and tried to occupy his mind by digging out his soap, bath cloth, and the bottle of shampoo. With everything in hand, he turned to see Jules looking at him. A smile, and it unnerved him.

“You’ll feel better once you get a shower,” said Jules.

“Yes, I know you’re right.”

Dr. Brown went to the far left shower head, two over from Jules, knowing the distance wasn’t near enough, not by a long shot. He turned on the shower, shocked at how warm water flowed from the head almost instantly and stepped underneath it. He sighed at the feel of it, how the warm water cascaded over his body. He turned his back to the shower head and let the water hit the back of his head. He opened his eyes to see Jules standing out from his shower, soaping up one long leg, then the other.

“Did they tell you we’re heading home?” said Jules.

“Yes.”

“It’ll take a few days, so use the time to relax,” said Jules as he stood straight.

Dr. Brown looked at the tall lean body, the cock that was thicker and longer than before, one he imagined touching, taking in his hand, or maybe his mouth, sucking as much of it as he could, or maybe he would let it…

“Dr. Brown. Dr. Brown?”

“Oh, yes?”

“I was asking if you had left a girlfriend behind. I didn’t see a ring, so assumed no wife.”

“No, no one. I’m single.”

“A confirmed bachelor?”

Dr. Brown knew the insinuation. What most people mean by it. He heard the jovial tone of the question and saw how Jules looked at him waiting on his reply. How he waited for it while tugging on that cock, making it grow bigger. Watching Jules, Dr. Brown found himself tugging on his own cock.

“I wondered about you,” said Jules.

“W-w-what to do mean?”

“A doctor who was still single, one attractive and successful from the tailored clothing you were wearing.”

“I…well…”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Dr. Brown couldn’t believe Jules asked so openly. What if someone came in and saw them, both getting erect, Jules’ cock angling outward. What would happen to them?

“Yes…I guess.”

“You guess?” Jules replied, laughing. “Dr. Brown, it’s okay. You can express attraction toward another man. It is acceptable among us. Even Gustave and Jean-Louis are a couple.”

“Gay men are acceptable?”

“Of course. It’s a natural part of our humanity, is it not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we do. If you find someone attractive, why would it be wrong to say so? I think you’re attractive.”

“Really?”

“Really. Why not finish your shower and come to my quarters for a little while. I promise it’ll make you sleep like a baby afterward.”

 

Dr. Brown found himself standing by the bed in Jules’ room. It was like his own, just wide enough for a bed along the side wall and a closet opposite. The only difference was the few personal effects. A book lying on the floor by the head of the bed and a couple of necklaces draped over the doorknob of the closet. But it was Jules standing before him that captured his eye the most. They were naked except for a towel around their waist, and Dr. Brown felt Jules slip fingers over the top edge and slip it from his waist leaving him completely naked. He felt his cock stir with his arousal as Jules pulled his own towel loose and dropped it on the floor. Then everything happened quickly. A hand on the back of his neck, lips against his own. He kissed the young Jules back, passionately, hungry for the touch of another. He had nearly died and now he clung to life like a man gone mad. He pulled Jules against his body feeling the heat of it and the smooth skin rub against his own. And he felt the hard cock press against his stomach.

Jules pushed and Dr. Brown fell back on the bed. With legs spread, he held up his arms for Jules to move on top of him. He savored the weight of the man, how he lay on top, moving and undulating in a manner that pushed cock against cock and rubbed torso against torso.

Before long, Albert felt cock bore into his depths. He clutched the bed as if he had to hang on as the cock moved inside him. Deeper and deeper, it moved inside him. Then he felt a hot exhale just before lips touched his neck. The lips moved along his neck until tongue followed the form of his ear making him shudder. He felt the lips moving against his ear as Jules whispered into it.

“I think you’re so sexy…so hot.”

Jules increased his pace, and Albert turned his head so they could kiss.

Albert felt the fullness of their fuck. He relished the feel of Jules moving against him, the undulation of the body against his own. It aroused him until he was pushing upward, pressing his cock into Jules’ abdomen.

“Fuck me…fuck me,” Albert uttered breathlessly.

Jules fucked for so long their bodies were covered in sweat, rubbing slickly against the other. They gasped for breath, clinging to each other maddeningly. Desperately. Jules rolled to his back, bringing Albert on top. He moved up and down on Jules’ cock, slow, fast, slow, then once leaned back onto his hands, fast again. Brutally fast, slamming his ass down on the cock. He stroked his own, desperate to get off, while continuing to move. Hands took his ankles, the grip tight. Unrelenting. And he felt Jules start to push upward. He worked his ass faster, slamming down on Jules, the sound echoing in the small room. Then Jules cried out and shoved upward. It was enough to trigger his own release, and he slammed his ass down on the spurting cock and came. Cum landed on his face, roped up his chest, then rained down on his stomach as he settled his ass on Jules’ spent cock.

 

Albert lay on his stomach with Jules hovering over him, their only connection the cock pumping into his ass. He lay there, cock hard beneath him, and took every push inward. He moaned into the mattress and clutched the headboard. He begged Jules to fuck him, not to stop. Please, don’t stop he pleaded as cock bore into his depths.

Albert never felt so alive. Never so free; to be himself. To love another man without fear and accusation. And he reveled in this freedom. Gave of himself freely, asking for the sex that gave him such pleasure he was breathless.

Jules lay on his back, the body hot and slick against him. An arm circled his neck and pulled his head up. Lips touched his neck, nipped at the flesh, then tugged on his earlobe as hips bounced off his ass.

“OH, oh…take me,” exclaimed Jules.

Albert felt the way Jules shuddered and jerked, how cock was pushed all the way into depths, and he knew Jules was coming. He took it. Every thrust inward. Every ejaculation. He took everything Jules had to give him until he was finally spent. Then he was suddenly pulled and manhandled until on his back and cock being sucked. He ran his hands through Jules’ hair, grasped it, holding Jules’ head over his cock as he pumped his hips. Then he too shuddered and cried out as he pumped cum into the suctioning mouth.

For the days to come, as they made their way back to this underwater city, Tiamat, that Albert had heard so much about, Jules and he were together as much as possible. They dined in the mess hall together, Albert trying to adjust to the stares and smiles of those that knew what was going on between Jules and him. After just a couple of days, the whole crew knew. On occasion, they dined with Gustave and Jean-Louis, and it seemed miraculous that four men in relationships could do so. He told himself it was the twentieth century and who knew, before long societies may be so accepting that it was normal. But he had doubts, even as he saw how it could be.

Coming upon Tiamat, Albert looked in shock at the city spread out over the flat mountain top and spilling over one side. How could such a place remain secret, he wondered, then he smiled, knowing it shouldn’t be otherwise. The sight of the city erased any lingering doubts he had, and once disembarked from the Poseidon, there was no question of where he would reside, settling into Jules’ place, a one-bedroom until that was part of the city hanging over the side of the mountain, its window looking into the abyss.

 

Article from the Daily Sketch, June 20, 1929, by Harold Green.

Manchester

It was reported by the crew of the Spanish cargo steamship SS Castillo de San Garcia, upon passing through the Strait of Gibraltar, that a massively large Manta Ray passed under their ship. Its width was over half the length of their vessel, so claimed several of the crew. It was late afternoon, and the crew swore the giant was glowing in the dark waters. When it passed underneath them, it scraped the bottom of their ship, a sound described by one sailor as a metal-on-metal sound. Others said he was exaggerating the sound.

It should be noted, the captain said the crew had been consuming alcohol and should not be taken seriously. But the Captain gave no explanation for the damage to the hull of his ship.

 

Chapter 3

Gustave stood in the control tower overlooking the docking bays for the submarines. The two newest submarines were being prepared for departure. They were magnificent vessels, with their latest technology. The new outer layer that absorbed radio waves, the batteries using certain metals, and accommodations that rivaled the luxury ocean liners sailing overhead. He looked at the one Francisco was directing the loading of stock for meal preparation. The Elysium, 423 feet long and a beam of 92 feet, was the last to be completed of their fleet and the one that would take the lead since it had the newest radar system. Next to it was Arcadia. It was 408 feet long and a beam of 74 feet and was built for speed, easily the fastest vessel in the fleet, with a speed of 24 knots. It was also the most heavily armed and would be the vessel to respond to any attack, should someone discover them, which he doubted very much.

“Are they on schedule?” said Jean-Louis coming to stand next to Gustave.

“A bit ahead of schedule.,” Gustave replied good naturedly.

“Good.”

“Did Atlantis get back to us on their status?”

“Everything has been operating at normal for two weeks. The interior environment is at correct atmospheric levels and the filtering systems are working better than we anticipated.”

“So, we don’t have to worry about air or water.”

“No.”

“Once our people arrive and get set up, have the crew run one more check on the systems.”

“Already scheduled.”

Gustave smiled. Jean-Louis seemed to be able to read his mind. “It is an exciting time.”

“It is that. Our second city ready for occupancy. Only 46 years since we set out to set up Tiamat.”

“And another expansion of Tiamat is to start next month.”

“I’ve run over the plans again, and we think we can make some minor adjustments and get twenty more living units in it.”

“Don’t reduce them to make more.”

“Our new mechanical system takes less space, so I reduced four mechanical rooms, widening the space between them, getting one residential unit for each run of rooms. Two per floor, ten floors, twenty units.”

“Well, we may need them by the time we get the expansion finished.”

“I can’t wait to see how it looks hanging off the side of the mountain looking into the deep. Have you given it any more thought about the location for a third city?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure the south Atlantic is it. I’m starting to think the north Pacific might be more suitable.”

“You know Japan is starting to flex its muscles. Ms. Wagenman seems to think topside will go into another world war and this time it’ll include the Pacific.”

“That is why I think we need to be there. Ready to respond to anything those fools do that goes too far.”

Jean-Louis laughed, shaking his head. “We were once those fools.”

“No…we were never as foolish at they are. We’re still picking up chemicals in the water from their last bloody war.”

“I’m still surprised Jules and Dr. Brown are not part of the group moving to Atlantis,” said Jean-Louis after a few seconds of silence.

“I am too. Dr. Brown said they talked about it.”

“But you told him we would be setting out for a site for the next city.”

“He really is like his father. Always looking for the next adventure.”

“His father says he worse.”

Gustave laughed. “But he does have an instinct for it.”

“There’s Captain Mitchell.”

“She’s carrying her satchel. They must be ready to set off.”

They watched the two vessels prepare for launch, hatches sealed and engines idling bringing them up to operating temperature. Slowly, the Arcadia backed out of the dock then submerged to exit the dock doors. The Elysium moved next, slowly, easing from the dock, then it submerged to exit the dock. Jean-Louis put a hand on Gustave’s shoulder and gently squeezed.

“Come on Gustave, let’s go. It’s time to call it a day.”

Gustave led Jean-Louis to their suite, the same one they had lived in since first setting up in the city. It overlooked the park in the middle of the main first section, now one of the smallest of the four hubs, each with a park inside it. Their suite was over a restaurant, one of the first to set up in the city, and they went past the open front where the smell of fish and seaweed was cooking. Gustave went past the elevator to the stairs with Jean-Louis right behind him. They entered their suite going straight to their bedroom. It had been three days since they had been intimate. Three long days of final preparations before the Poseidon and Arcadia set off. When they moved past the mirror, Gustave glanced into it, still shocked to think he was eighty. And Jean-Louis was seventy-eight. For anyone up top, that was an age when a person was losing their stamina and strength. But four years after moving into Taimat, there had been the first discovery, then two years later, another and suddenly everyone was on a supplement that slowed the aging process, and more importantly, boosted the immune system and its ability to fight off illness. Gustave didn’t understand all the medical science, but he understood its effects. He looked in his fifties, if that old, and still felt like he was a man in his thirties. And Jean-Louis seemed even fitter. Still a muscular man with few wrinkles. A man who could give him the greatest pleasure, one intimate, erotic, and satisfying.

They stripped before each other and fell on the bed, giggling like young lovers, then they kissed and touched and caressed until Gustave was on his back with Jean-Louis on top pushing cock into his depths. They were horny, wanting after so long with sex, and their fuck grew physical as only two men could be. Gustave clung to Jean-Louis, urged him to fuck harder, while taking every thrust, every push into his depths until his own cock drooled on his abdomen.

Jean-Louis moved with such strength that it made Gustave gasp for air. The body flexed and glistened with sweat. It revealed every muscle as it moved over him.

“Fuck…Jean-Louis…”

Gustave rolled Jean-Louis to his back, and he straddled him, cock still buried in inside him, and he ground his ass down on it then began to move up and down. Hands rested on his thighs, kneaded the flexing muscle while he moved faster, rougher, until his own cock was smacking down on Jean-Louis’ abdomen. A hand took his cock and roughly stroked it as he kept moving. It was the way he got off the most intense. And like all the times before, he shuddered, jerked, then erupted, shooting a thick rope of cum up Jean-Louis’ chest. He shuddered with every ejaculation, spraying more cum on Jean-Louis until finally spent.

With cock slimy and drooling its last drop of cum, he leaned back and pumped his ass up and down faster and faster until Jean-Louis cried out and pushed down on his thighs, forcing his ass down on the spurting cock.

 

Translated from the Greek newspaper Atlantis.

24 March 1951

Crew of Cargo Ship claim Manta Rays can fly.

Several crew members of the cargo shop Evgenia, while sailing up the eastern coast of Canada, claim they saw a massive Manta Ray leap out of the ocean and disappear into the sky. One of the deck crew claimed the Manta Ray was over eight meters wide.

“It leaped from the water almost straight up, then it angled down a bit and flew upward at about a forty-five-degree angle until lost in the clouds.”

When pressed on the fact Manta Rays cannot fly, the crewman said he knew that most did not fly, but this one did so.

 

Chapter 4 

Jules climbed down from the Oceanus; the submarine he had been captain of for the last fifteen years. He had only been thirty-seven years old, but due to their diet and medical care, had looked younger. He saw his reflection in the glass as he approached the door to the corridor that led to the main comms room and saw a man who looked late twenties. He smiled, because the image matched how he felt. Young and vibrant, ready to tackle anything. He glanced back and saw Albert climbing down from the submarine. He looked closer to his age. Albert turned sixty-five last month and the change in diet and their medical care seemed to be slowing the aging process, but not as much as those born in the habitat. Albert eased down onto the docks and Jules noted how he looked like a fit early-fifties, with greying temples. And Jules loved him, so much it made him feel breathless.

Jules went straight to the comms room where he found Jean-Louis at a monitor to the new computation system their scientists had developed. The image looked primitive, but the data files it could sort quickly made it an invaluable tool. Jean-Louis was ninety-one but looked in his sixties. A lean build, head shaved smooth, and always a smile, either playful or mischievous depending on the situation.

“What’s up?” asked Jules as he took a seat behind Jean-Louis.

“There is a situation in China that has us worried.”

“China?”

“Yes, China,” said Gustave, coming into the room. Jules turned to see the one referred to as First Citizen come into the room with a quick step and a worried look on his face. He was ninety-three years old but looked as young as Jean-Louis.

“And what has us worried?”

Jean-Louis turned from the monitor as Gustave sat next to Jules. He picked up a file, flipping to the back of it.

“Two years ago, a young scientist by the name of Tsien Chen-Ning published a paper on quantum mechanics that his superiors considered outlandish. It was filed away and summarily forgotten until four months ago when a paper out of Germany made a hypothesis that came to the attention of the scientists back in China.”

“The paper suddenly made sense?” said Jules.

“Enough so to make the authorities go in search of it,” said Gustave.

“But they can’t find it.”

“That is correct. They can’t find it,” said Jean-Louis. “We don’t know the details of the paper or how it got misplaced. Some scientists in China think Tsien retrieved it.”

“Did he?”

“We don’t know, but Tsien has gone into hiding. It seems, from the letters we’ve intercepted, that his hypothesis, if accurate, could be used to make a bomb that makes the atomic bomb seem trivial.”

“I take it he had other ideas on how his hypothesis should be used,” said Gustave, turning to Jules, “and didn’t want his paper back into the hands of his government.”

“And we’re talking about this because we want to find the paper?” said Jules.

“No,” said Jean-Louis, “we want to find Tsien. My hunch is the paper is on him or kept close at hand, or best-case scenario, he memorized it then destroyed it.”

“How are we going to find him. China is like one of the most populated countries on the planet; is it not?”

“We have intel that leads us to think he might be in Haikou on the north side of Hainan Island.”

“He’s from Haikou?”

“No, but there were notes in his writings about going there during his university days. We think it was to meet someone.”

“Wouldn’t the authorities think to look there?”

“Maybe…maybe not,” said Gustave.

“And how will we find him?”

“We won’t. He’ll come to us.”

“Huh?”

Gustave smiled. “We’ll put word out among the locals in the areas we know he visited back in the thirties and when we finally arrive, hopefully he’ll be waiting for us.”

“And I’m to sail for Hainan in hast.”

“Not exactly.”

Jules saw the look that passed between Gustave and Jean-Louis. Jean-Louis pulled up a drawing for some new vessel, one Jules had seen them pouring over from time to time. He saw it was similar to the Oceanus in some ways.

“I’ve seen the two of you going over these plans for three, four years now. What is it?”

“First, it’s been six years, but it is a vessel capable of moving through the water faster than any of the current submarines and it can…”  Gustave hesitated, letting the tension build.

“It can do what? Fly?” Jules joked, laughing loudly. Then he saw Gustave and Jean-Louis were not laughing and he fell silent. “No; you’re kidding me.”

“No, we’re not. It can fly.”

“It can go from underwater to the air?”

“Yep.”

“It must be slow then.”

“Quite the contrary,” said Jean-Louis. “It’s faster than anything the Americans are testing.”

“And you have guys ready to fly that thing?”

“Yes. It has a crew of four for flying.”

“How long will it take to get to Hainan?”

“Nine, nine and half hours.”

“Damn. I knew you guys were testing something interesting because Charlie has been giddy with excitement for months. And when do we take off or whatever it does. And what did you name it?”

“Nemesis,” Gustave and Jean-Louis replied in unison, making Jules laugh.

“Tomorrow. The detail on the ground started putting the word out last week, so if Tsien is there, we should know something soon. You’ll take the Nemesis to Hainan and position yourself a few miles off the coast to the east and wait for word,” said Gustave.

 

Gustave and Jean-Louis stood at the window of the observation deck watching their newest craft be prepared for launch. The last to board had been Jules, carrying the latest intel from China. There had been no direct communication from Tsien but a local had told them he wanted to talk. They were not sure if it was a reliable intel, but they were going to risk it. They sensed it was imperative Tsien be retrieved. Gustave and Jean-Louis were hopeful they could extract him. It was the humanitarian thing to do and for them, an opportunity to gain some quantum mechanics insight that their scientists were struggling to work out, plus they did not want the research to fall into the wrong hands.

“This is exciting,” said Jean-Louis.

“Yes. More exciting in some ways that getting Atlantis finished,” said Gustave, referring to their second habitat, the one about twelve hundred miles off the western coast of Morrocco. They had started it just prior to World War II, and with all the wartime activity, put the construction on the guyot on hold upon completion of the first phase until after Germany surrendered and the Atlantic finally settled down. It was in 1948 when they got the second phase completed. Three years later, they were doing another expansion of the habitat.

They watched the Nemesis ease along the dock then submerge to pass through the gates to the open ocean. A few bubbles, then the water calmed to a smooth slick surface.

“We’re on mission,” said Jean-Louis.

“Yes, let’s get to comm.”

 

Charles Auchter and Ryan MacGregor piloted the Nemesis through the dark waters, slowly climbing toward the surface. Charles was native to Tiamat and knew the underworld of the North Atlantic better than anyone except for his captain, Jules Chevalier. Ryan was a rescue, a pilot shot down at sea during World War II. Ryan looked back at Jules and Dr. Brown, going over the plans once again. He knew by the time they arrived at Hainan Island Jules would have memorized them.

“Okay, we’re ready to accelerate for initial launch into the air,” said Charles.

“Everyone buckled in?” said Ryan.

“Yes,” replied Jules and Dr. Brown.

The craft angled upward until almost going straight up. It accelerated until the view ahead was blurring around the eye’s perimeter.

“In 5, 4, 3, 2, 1,” said Charles, and the craft exploded out of the water, rising high in the sky.

“Air intakes open,” yelled Ryan, an urgency in his voice.

“Engines online and building thrust,” Charles replied.

The craft slowed its ascent, the nose beginning to angle downward when the thrust of the engines took over pushing them back into a climb. The Nemesis accelerated hard, keeping everyone pinned in their seats, then it began to level off as the g-forces decreased.

“Switching to rapid air mode,” said Ryan.

The sound of the engines changed and once again they were accelerating rapidly while climbing even higher.

“20,000 feet,” uttered Charles. The pressurization of the cabin increased. The Nemesis kept climbing until the clouds were far below them.

“50,000 feet.”

“60,000 feet.”

“70,000 feet and leveling off.”

“Charlie, how fast will this thing go? Gustave was tight lipped about it,” said Jules.

“He was tight lipped because this flying beast is capable of flying faster than what we thought it could do. We’re doing a little over Mach 4. A bit over 4,800 kilometers an hour.”

“Dear God, are there no limits?” said Dr. Brown, shaking his head.

 

Their flight path took them over Northern Canada then south along the western Pacific, until south of Japan they curved back to the west heading toward Hainan.

“We’ll put down in the South China Sea about a hundred miles off the coast then ease in close,” said Ryan.

“The Griffin is ready for launch so as soon as we’re in position, you can go,” said Charles, referring to the small submarine used for reconnaissance and rescue that was stowed in the mid-cargo hold. It’s shape, mimicking a string ray allowed for maneuvering in shallow waters.

The Nemesis was piloted between Taiwan and the Philippines coming out over the South China Sea. They maintained a southernly path until near the Pracel Islands where they swung around heading north-northwest, toward the eastern side of Hainan. It was nighttime over the region, and they used the darkness to fly in close before touching down about forty-five miles east of Haikou, just north of a small group of islands.

Charles brought the craft to a depth of 800 meters and stabilized it for stationary positioning. Ryan checked the status of the Nemesis, then opened the hatch on the underside.

“I’m lowering the Griffin.”

“Our contact in Haikou radioed they were ready,” said Jules.

“The rendezvous point still good?” said Albert.

“Yes, about a half kilometer from Mulantou.”

“That cuts down on the distance you have to go,” said Ryan.

“Yes, and in the open water it’ll be easier to see if he has been followed.”

“It’ll be light in four hours, so best get going,” said Albert.

Jules smiled at Albert, then leaned over, and kissed him quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

 

The Griffin was fast and nimble, and Jules took advantage of his capabilities, pushing it hard. He would be at the rendezvous point in less than forty-five minutes, plenty of time to make contact, make sure Tsien Chen-Ning wasn’t followed. He moved through the dark waters using their infrared night vision system to avoid detection by any fishing trawler or security forces patrolling the area. He replayed the conversations with scientists back at Tiamat, conversations that quickly found him lost as to what they were talking about. References to time and space as constructs, of fields like fabric, and some notions of dimensional space and possibilities of extra dimensions. By the time he was running the checklist of what to do at the rendezvous point, he was approaching it.

A scan showed no other ships, submarines, or planes in the immediate area. All he found was a small boat moving in a slow small circle. He drew near, coming up just outside its circular path then falling in next to it. He set the automatic pilot and climbed topside looking over at the two shocked men in the small boat.

“Tsien? Tsien Chen-Ning?”

“Yes, that is I,” said the oldest of the two men, coming to his feet unsteadily. “Are you Captain Chevalier?”

“Yes, I’ve come to rescue you.”

Jules pulled out his handheld control unit and eased the Griffin closer to the ship until less than a foot separated them. He moved to the side to help Tsien step over, then guided him back to the top of the Griffin near the hatch.

Tsien said something in Mandarin to the man in the boat who bowed slightly then pulled away, heading back to the mainland.

“Can we trust him not to say something?” said Jules.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“He was my lover in university.” It was spoken defiantly, as if Tsien dared him to comment.

Jules smiled, then chuckled. Then he grew serious. “Why didn’t he come with us?”

“He is married with family.”

“Oh.”

Jules led Tsien into the Griffin, got him buckled in, then swung the craft around and dove, on a course for the Nemesis.

 

Chapter 5

“…Typhoon Gay has rapidly…intensity…120 km/h…swells of…meters—”

The radio turned to static, white noise drowned out by the howling wind tossing the fishing trawler. The Chalaam was a small trawler, at only 13 meters in length, and it was being tossed and rocked until the crew knew they would soon be sunk. The typhoon had gotten on top of them so quickly they were unprepared. Jirapat, the captain, had taken them further out than normal looking for a good catch, and now the crew could see the panic in his eyes, as he tried to maneuver the trawler into the waves to keep from being rolled over.

Nattapong, the youngest of the crew, had been on board since he was fourteen after losing his parents. He was now nineteen and wondering if his life would end at such a young age. He tried to help one of the others secure the deck as waves were washing over it.

“The captain has brought us to hell,” one of the men yelled over the howling winds.

Nattapong thought of drowning and how someone could compare it to hell. But he was just as terrified as if the sea were a lake of fire, so maybe the description wasn’t far from the truth. He looked toward the bow in time to see the swell coming toward them. It towered over the small boat, a wall of water of incomprehensible size, and he knew the trawler could not withstand it. He stood straight and closed his eyes, determined to meet his fate like a man.

 

Captain Omar Al-Batma came into steering with a grim look on his face. He moved to the monitor table, the mapping image backlit with a soft green hue, and saw the locations of all nearby ships. He looked over at his First Officer, Eska Williams, a man he had considered far too young when they first shipped off together. Eska had been born of the sea, in 1980 at Atlantis. When their third city, Olokun, opened in 1979 his family moved from Atlantis to it the following year. Eska’s father was a research scientist, one who went on missions to collect samples, study the ecosystem of an underwater region, or seek the next discovery for medicine. As soon as Eska turned eight he was going on missions with his father. He learned how to handle a Stingray class vessel by ten, and was helping navigate the Aaglu, their fastest submarine used for long range missions, by the time he was sixteen.

Omar was from Morrocco, the son of an engineer, and when he had been ten years old, his family had been brought to Atlantis. What seemed so natural to Eska had been a struggle for him. To be confined in the smaller vessels had been a nightmare, his claustrophobia getting the best of him. When he turned twenty, Tiamat had sent a new drug treatment, one that helped him work through his phobia and allowed him to pursue his dream of navigation. He worked his way up through the ranks, until captain of his own vessel, the Aaglu which brought him to the fourth and last city to be built, Taniwha near Bora Bora and French Polynesia.

As the submarine moved smoothly through the turbulent shallow waters of the Gulf of Thailand, he came to the head of the monitor capturing everyone’s attention.

“As you know a typhoon has formed in the gulf. It has strengthened and is now heading toward land, probably Chumphon Providence. The winds are 120 km/h and the swells are…it will be devasting to the shoreline.”

“But we’re safe,” said Rachel, in charge of monitoring their engines and tanks.

“Yes, but these waters are only 190 feet or so in depth and because of our size, we could be easily spotted during rescue missions topside.”

“So, we are cutting our mission short and heading back to Taniwha.” said Eska.

“Yes. We’re to turn and head back, post-haste.”

One of the crew from the radio room came rushing in. “Captain, we have a fishing trawler sinking just off our starboard side, not more than a three hundred meters away.”

“Damn,” Omar uttered, then he looked over at Eska, knowing what the young man was going to say.

“We have to go save any survivors.”

 

Eska navigated the Kaitiaki from the Aaglu, a small Stingray class sub. He swung out from under the large submarine, rising quickly to meet the sinking trawler.

“Status?” exclaimed Eska in his comm.

“The ship just went down.”

“Roger that.”

Eska brought the sub’s lights to full intensity because the darkened skies made the waters too see very far, almost as dark as if it were night. He moved toward the sinking trawler looking for any signs of life. He found drowned crew sinking along with the trawler and began to think there were none. Then he picked up a warm body, one struggling to say on the surface. He maneuvered toward it, rising from underneath the struggling man.

 

Nattapong found himself on the surface and he worked his legs and arms trying to keep his head up. The fishing trawler was gone, and he saw none of his fellow crew. He rose and fell with the swells until his legs were tiring out and he knew he would drown too. He tilted his head back and took a deep breath and began to sink.

Just as his head went under his feet landed on something hard and smooth. He rose until he had to sit as the metal submarine surfaced. He had seen pictures of small submarines but none like the one beneath him, shaped like a stingray, even with a long tail. A hatched opened and he didn’t know who to expect, but not the young blonde headed man climbing up.

“Do you speak English?”

Nattapong knew a few words, enough to shake his head in the negative. The young man held out a hand and he took it, letting himself be guided into the submarine. He followed the man down a couple of rungs of a short ladder and stood in a cramped space.

“Sit here,” the young said, gesturing toward a seat just behind the one for controlling the sub.

Nattapong moved to the seat and the young man took the one in front. The hatch closed and he could hear it lock in place, and they were soon moving downward, beneath the stormy waters. They didn’t go far, and he saw sections of a large submarine in their lights. They moved along a section of its length, then swung over one side and underneath, where they moved up through an open hatch. They surfaced in a large room and Nattapong saw a larger submarine docked in front of them, one twice the size.

“Let’s get out,” said the young man, Nattapong catching the word ‘out’ just as the hatch unlatched and swung open. He got to his feet and climbed up onto the top of the submarine where a man and a woman were waiting. The young man came by him and stepped onto the dock, then turned holding out a hand. He took it and stepped nervously onto the dock.

“I think he is unharmed but why don’t you check him out anyway,” said the young man, Nattapong understanding none of the words. “Who’s on board that can speak Thia?” This time Nattapong understood enough to know what was said, the question for someone who can speak his language.

The woman spoke to the young man, then turned to him and spoke in his native language.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“We would like to take you to our medical bay and just make sure. Would you come with us to do that?”

“Yes…what about my crew?”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, confirming what he feared.  “I’m Dr. Haruka Saito.”

“You’re Japanese?”

“Yes. My parents were from Japan, but I was born at Taniwha.”

“Tan-e-ha?”

“I’ll explain while we check you out. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Can I ask what your name is?”

“Nattapong Anurak, but you can call me Perth.”

“Perth; I like that. Now let’s get you checked out.”

 

Perth followed the woman with the two men behind him, they went down a corridor to an elevator. He was shocked to see one in a submarine. It took them up, two floors, and he was soon passing crew quarters, crew’s mess, and a lounge area before coming to the sick bay.

“Perth, here is a gown to put on. Just go behind that curtain and get out of your wet clothes. After we check you out, we’ll get you cleaned up and into dry clothes.”

Perth smiled for the first time, but it was weak and filled with sadness, for his crew was gone leaving him with no one. He didn’t know what would happen to him but he feared his life was going to get worse.

 

Perth sat on the exam table with Dr. Saito listening to his breathing, first from his chest, now from his back. He breathed in deeply and let it out slowly.

“Good, your lungs are clear.”

“I didn’t go under. That young man came under me before I went down.”

“That is Eska.”

“Es-ka?”

“That’s right.”

“And he can pilot the submarines?”

“Oh yeah, he was doing it as a little kid. His father was a scientist who went out on missions taking Eska with him.”

A man came in carrying clean clothes. He looked Thia or Vietnamese with jet black hair cut short and dark brown eyes. Dr. Saito turned to him.

“Bank, good, you can help Perth with where he can get cleaned up. Then bring him to the bridge where we can discuss what to do next.”

“You’re Thia?” asked Perth.

“My grandparents immigrated to the United States from Songkhla. I was born in San Diego but twelve years ago I found myself at Olokun and last year I transferred to Taniwha.”

“I’ve never heard of these places.”

“If you want, you might get to see them.”

“Bank let’s see what Perth wants to do first before we go making promises,” said Dr. Saito.

 

Perth stood by the monitoring table that sat in the middle of the bridge. In front of him stood the captain and Dr. Saito. Next to him stood Bank and the young man, Eska, who saved him. Beyond the captain, he could see out the large windows at the underworld of the Gulf of Thailand, a place he had only imagined, only ever moving over its surface in the past.

“Perth, you have no family?” said Dr. Saito.

“Only the crew of the Chalaam and…they’re…gone.”

“Perth, we need to leave so we’re not discovered. You understand?”

“Yes. And you’ll take me with you? To this place under the water?”

“Yes, we don’t want to risk being discovered and we’re offering you a better life.”

“Perth, you’ll not live in poverty,” said Bank.

Perth looked around him, feeling overwhelmed. Could he live like this? Could he fit in, find some useful purpose that would let these people accept him as one of their own? He looked at Bank, educated, fluent in English and Thai, and from what the doctor had said, Bank knew two other languages. Could he ever be like Bank?

Perth looked out the windows just as whale moved around the front. He gasped, then turned to the others for confirmation he wasn’t seeing things.

“A Omura’s whale,” said Bank. “A rare sight.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Perth, wanting to be a part of this underwater world.

 

After nearly a week of maneuvering through the South China Sea, the Philippine Sea, and the Pacific Ocean until near French Polynesia, the Aaglu swung around an underwater mountain and came to the fourth city of Taniwha. Lights came on revealing its expanse. Perth stood at the windows looking at the massive structures clinging to the side of the mountain, curved to match it.

“The other cities are built on guyots, mountains with flat tops, but the ones in this region are a bit too close to the surface, so Taniwha is built on the side of this mountain,” said Bank who had come up next to him.

“It’s beautiful,” uttered Perth.

“All four of the cities are beautiful.”

“You’ve been to all of them?”

“Oh, yes, several times.”

“Where are they located?”

“Olokun is in the north Pacific east of the northern islands of Japan. Atlantis is west of Morrocco in the Atlantic, and the first city, Tiamat, is north of Bermuda and east of the United States.”

“And all of them are underwater?”

“Yes.”

 

For six months, Perth slowly found his place in Taniwha. He was put through an educational program, teaching him English and history, and giving him aptitude tests. In his free time, he mingled with Bank and his friends hearing how easily they switched from English to Thai to Japanese. He helped the maintenance crew with tending to the central park, the vast arched structure at the center of the city with artificial lighting that allowed for trees, shrubs and flowering plants. He had been surprised to find bees, butterflies and birds within the space, then more surprised to find there were turtles, frogs, and alarmingly, snakes. It was a small biosphere, limited but enough variation to be self-sustaining.

At the end of each day, he went to his personal quarters and stood at the door looking around at the space others called small, knowing it was the largest room he had ever lived in. A room he had to share with no one else. With his parents, they lived in a small one room apartment and when they died in a fire, he found himself living on the fishing trawler in even smaller quarters. Now he had his own bed and a television so that he could play movies pirated from above countries. And down the hall, he saw the young blonde headed guy, Eska coming and going.

Eska would be gone for days, even weeks at a time, then he would show up and be around the living quarters for a few days. Every time he passed Eska in the hall he looked up at the taller man letting himself think of it. Despite the way others described Eska as too young, Perth knew he was twenty-nine, soon to be thirty. Ten years older with a lean muscular build, like most other men in the city. He wondered if it was their diet. He looked at himself in the mirror and thought of the skinny kid that had arrived six months ago, 167 cm in height and weighing less than fifty kilos. But flexing his arms, he saw there was some new strength in his body, and with the change in his diet and the work out routine Bank had him doing, he knew he was putting on some weight, mostly muscle. If only he could build up his confidence as easily.

In the evenings, he would spend most going over his English lessons, determined to master the confusing language. At times it made no sense. But he found himself slowly increasing his vocabulary, adding new words every few days, stringing them into sentences.

 

One day after finishing his classes, he stood at the window of the lounge looking out into the waters with fish swimming by, drawn to the light, while thinking of Thailand and the docks that was home to him. Did anyone miss him, knowing the truth. No one would miss him or most of the crew. Only the captain and one other crew member had had a family. The Chalaam was on the bottom of the Gulf of Thailand where it would stay undisturbed for no one would care.

He wanted to feel sadden by it. How he had been brought to a new city, never to return to his homeland. Bank said he couldn’t even visit, for once someone became a resident of one of the four cities, they could not return to the surface, for it risked revealing their existence. But there was nothing in Thailand for him to return to, so it was a small thing to ask of him.

“Hey Perth, you want to go out on a short mission?” said Bank, leaning around the door frame.

“Seriously, I can go out with you guys?”

“Yes. They said you’ve been holed up inside too long and need to get out.”

“I’d like that.”

“Be at the dock at 0700 in the morning. We’re going to swing down the ridgeline from Neiafu down to below Tonga.”

“Why?”

“One of the scientists found a species of starfish with some unique properties that might lead to another medical treatment. He wants us to find a few of them and extract some samples from them. I don’t know the details. I just know it is an excuse to go out.”

 

At 0645, Perth was sitting on a crate looking at the docked vessels. The Aaglu wasn’t among them, but there was the Sama, Ca-map, and Whaitere sitting in dock. The submarines still awed him. They were enormous, larger than any ship he had ever seen up close. Bank told him they were called the Orca class. He wondered which one they would go out on. He saw two men and a woman going to one of the smaller craft, one of the Manta Ray class submarines, that only had a crew of fifteen and just beyond them the Stingray class, submarines even smaller, with a crew of only seven. He had learned the submarine Eska used to rescue him was a Skate class submarine, used for short runs from one of the Orca class submarines.

He watched the three people load something on one of the Stingray class submarines. Maybe they were going to run around the local underwater mountains. Missions to tend to their fish farms and seaweed fields or to do more detailed exploration.

“Hey Perth, you ready to go?” said Bank.

Perth turned to see Bank and four other men come out to the dock. Then he saw Eska come out of the door carrying a backpack. Eska would be part of the crew, and it made Perth feel breathless.

“Yes.”

Perth got to his feet, picked up his backpack and fell in behind Bank and the other four men. As they made their way out toward the submarines, he sensed Eska behind him, eventually close enough he could hear him take a breath or move in some way that made a sound. He knew they were not going on one of the Orca class submarines, but he was shocked to see them pass the Manta Ray class heading toward the Stingray class.

“We going in one of those? For over a week?”

“Yep,” said Eska from behind him.

They walked past the Kawako and Pania until standing at the Adaro, the submarine where the three people had been loading boxes. Bank stepped to one side allowing Eska to board. He turned to Perth and motioned toward the others.

“Perth, this is our crew. Roger and Kenji will be monitoring radar, Akio is support and medical, and Joaquin is our scientist who understands what we’re going out there to do. I’ll be Eska’s backup in steering and you’ll be our errand boy, helping where needed. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Let’s get aboard and settled in. It will be a bit cramped, so stow away anything not in use.”

There were three sleeping berths, two beds in bunk bed configuration in two and three beds in the third, two in bunk configuration and one over a desk. Bank and Akio took the first berth, Roger, Kenji and Joaquin took the last one, leaving Perth the second one, one he would have to share with Eska. His heart raced with anticipation and fear as he stowed his backpack. He would have to watch how he looked at Eska, knowing he could reveal his attraction to the man.

Why he feared letting Eska, or anyone else for that matter, know he was attracted to men, Eska in particular, he did not know. He had seen same sex couples all over the city. It was a natural part of their society, Bank had explained when he built up the courage to ask. But he still felt an outsider, a stowaway, and he feared if he were to upset someone he might be asked to leave, despite reassurances from Bank no harm would come to him.

The submarine was only one level, but steering was three steps down from the main bridge area, allowing everyone to look over Eska and Bank as they maneuvered out of the docking bay and submerged to exit through the gates. With the front windows starting over the bridge and curving down to below the knees of Eska and Bank, the view forward was expansive, almost too much for Perth, for it felt unsafe in some manner.

Perth stood between Joaquin and Kenji watching as they left the city and moved out into the open ocean. He looked down at Eska, the blonde head moving back and forth, checking instruments while make course corrections. He found himself looking at Eska once again in ways that made him feel different. During his time on the Chalaam, he never felt tempted, none of the crew capturing his eye in the same way. After a few minutes he turned and saw Kenji smiling at him, shaking his head.

“What?” said Perth.

“Nothing,” Kenji replied, smiling more broadly.

“Okay guys, get settled in. We have a about 37 hours of steady cruising before we get to our destination,” said Bank.

Perth hesitated to step away from the monitor as the others pulled back and went to their berths. Bank glanced back and winked at Perth.

“Go rest up. There will be plenty to do when we get near Neiafu.”

 

For the next 37 hours, Perth seemed to cross paths with Eska every time he tried to move on the small submarine. He went to the kitchenette that lined the narrow corridor that went from the bridge to engineering at the rear of the submarine, he had to push up against the wall to let Eska pass on the way to the small toilet just past the kitchenette. He pulled his backpack out of the stowage to get the English language novel he was reading, and had to lean toward the wall to let Eska get to his bunk to take a nap.

After twenty-four hours, he had to stretch his legs. He went to the bridge to use the fold down treadmill. He had thought it silly to have one on the bridge. But after twenty-four hours on board, it seemed like a necessity. He started out slow, just warming up his legs as he watched the monitor in front of him showing different camera angles from the front of the submarine. When his legs felt loose, he increased the incline and speed. Soon he was running, legs moving rapidly. He ran until his breathing was labored and his shirt soaked with sweat, then he slowed the treadmill until he was just walking, cooling down before getting off.

He hit the stop button and stepped back, tripping. He fell backward but instead of hitting the floor, someone caught him. He turned and felt his face flush hot. It was Eska waiting for him to finish, ready to take a turn on it. Shirtless revealing the muscular upper body, Perth just stared up at Eska.

“You okay?” said Eska.

“Yes, yes,” said Perth. He stood up and stepped back until the monitor table was against his back and he watched Eska get on the treadmill. After a warmup, Eska was jogging, then after a few minutes, sped up until running in place. Perth watched the back flex with the movement of the arms and sweat bead up on the skin.

“What are you doing?”

Perth jerked around to Kenji leaning on the Monitor watching him watch Eska.

“Nothing.”

“Huh-uh,” Kenji replied, then pushed back and headed back to his berth.

Perth followed Kenji down the narrow corridor to the second berth and he grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the small shower. He didn’t know how the system worked, but knew it brought in sea water, purified it, ran it through the submarine’s plumbing, then ran it through a second purification, putting the sea salt extracted back into it before circulating it back into the ocean. It seemed superfluous all the recycling and purification, but it allowed the submarines to operate without having to carry a lot of water, a dead weight that affected its performance. And for those bathing, the luxury of a long hot shower.

When he finally emerged, wearing just boxers, Eska was standing in the corridor waiting.

“Do you feel better?” said Eska.

“Yes.”

“Nothing like a hot shower after working out.”

Eska leaned against the wall to let Perth pass, and once at the door to his berth, Perth looked back to bath door closing. If only he could sneak the door open and peek in.

 

They arrived at their starting point and for three days slowly made their way south, working up and down the side of the ridgeline. By the time they were due east of Tonga, they had the samples they needed.

“Okay, guys, let’s head home,” said Eska climbing out of steering to let Bank take over for he had been in steering for over eight hours. “I’m going to take a shower and grab some sleep.”

A few minutes later, Perth found himself in his bunk reading while Eska slept below him. It amazed him how easily Eska could drift off, within minutes of laying down. Despite the distraction that lay below him, he made himself focus on his book until once again captured by its story. How long he read, he wasn’t sure but when he heard Eska stir he had to stop. He listened wondering if Eska was awake. He lay the book on his stomach and leaned over to look down at the sleeping form. The blanket was pushed down until he could see the waistband of the blue boxers. He looked from the narrow waist up the flat stomach to the chest. He looked at the nipples and the pecs, then up to the hollow spot below the neck, then he looked further upward until he found Eska staring back.

“Do you like what you see?” whispered Eska.

“What? No, no; I was just—”

“Okay, but it’s okay if you did.”

Perth was speechless, not sure how to respond to someone who looked like Eska. Could Eska really like him in that way? He fell back on his bunk and stared up at the ceiling wondering if maybe it was all just a joke, that Eska was just messing with him. He sat up and leaned over to look down again. Eska had the blanket pushed to the foot of bed and was totally exposed. The blue boxers were tossed on the floor, leaving Eska completely naked. The cock lay heavily over the abdomen and for far too long Perth couldn’t take his eyes off it. He finally scanned up the tall lean muscular body until staring into the blue eyes. They were so vivid blue, and he wondered if he had noticed before. Then he saw the smile. One gentle and unassuming.

“Perth, climb down.”

It was whispered, barely loud enough to hear, but the tone was commanding. Perth swung his legs over the side of the bunk and instead of climbing down the ladder, he dropped to the floor coming into a squat position. He dropped to his knees and moved up close to the bed.

“You’re not going to make fun of me?” uttered Perth.

“What? No. I wouldn’t do that,” said Eska, as he reached out and touched Perth on the chest.

 Despite the T-shirt, the touch made Perth’s heart race. The hand moved up and down in a soft rubbing motion, then it moved up to the neck and as Eska sat up the hand cupped the back of the neck and pulled them into a kiss.

When Eska pulled back he stared into Perth’s eyes, making him feel his face flush hot.

“Perth, take off your clothes.”

Perth pulled his shirt over his head, then he stood and slipped off his boxers revealing a cock getting erect. It angled out half hard. Eska reached out and fondled it, tugged on it, making Perth shiver. Then Eska moved over on his bunk and Perth didn’t have to be told what to do. He eased down next to the taller man and ran his hand over the firm muscular chest, over the hardening nipples, and up the neck to the chin where he felt the stubble coming in, so blonde as to be hardly noticeable.

“You’re so attractive,” Perth uttered aloud, then turned red at the realization he had done so.

“So are you,” said Perth.

Perth smiled. Others in the city had said so, but coming from Perth it meant something. He moved upward and kissed Eska while climbing on top of him. He rubbed his cock alongside Eska’s. He undulated and moved over the muscular body until both were fully erect. He sat up as much as he could in the tight bunk and worked his ass over Eska’s cock.

“Fuck,” Eska uttered.

It was just an exclamation, but it was what Perth wanted more than anything in the world. To feel Eska inside him. To feel what it was like to have a man enter him. To take a man’s fuck.

Perth raised his ass and felt Eska tap it with the hard cock then hold it against his tight opening. He pushed down on it, slowly, feeling his stretch to take it. He moaned and shivered as the flared head pushed through his tightness. He shuddered at the feel of the cock slipping into him. The way it gave him a fullness of penetration and he kept pushing down until seated on Eska, the cock buried in his ass. He moaned with pleasure then leaned down and kissed him, passionately, without inhibition. He raised his ass until the cock nearly slipped free, then eased back down all the way. He kept it up until in a fuck, working his ass on that cock until his own drooled on Eska’s abdomen. Hands took his narrow ass and guided him in a slower pace.

Eska sat up, bearhugged him, then rolled him to his back. He held his legs up, feet pressed to the upper bunk as Eska began to fuck. He felt the strength of the body as it pumped cock into his depths, faster and faster, until the hips smacked against his upturned ass.

“Don’t stop,” Perth uttered. “Please don’t stop.”

And Eska didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, just kept fucking until his body glistened with sweat and he was breathing hard. Then he took each leg behind the knee and folded Perth in half and lay on top of him, grinding hips against ass while slow fucking it.

Perth tilted his head back and closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of their fuck. The way the cock moved inside him. The heat and slick smooth feel of the body against his own. His own cock so hard he was ready to come. Then Eska rose on his hands and began to fuck harder, faster, shoving cock into his depths and hammering hips against his ass. He clutched the headboard and pushed his ass to take every thrust not wanting it to stop. Then he came. It shuddered him, made him jerk with every ejaculation, spraying cum over his face and chest. Eska kept fucking and he relished the feel of the cock working through his ass as it spasm with his release. Then Eska cried out, shoved into him roughly and shuddered with release.

 

They shared a shower stall where they bathed each other. Hands moved over the other as they kissed. Before long they were erect. Perth leaned against the wall bracing with his hands as Eska entered him again. He held his head down and moaned as Eska pushed inward all the way and kissed the back of neck.

“I wondered how long it would take to get you to come out of your shell,” whispered Eska.

Perth smiled then moaned as he pushed back to take Eska, never wanting it to stop.

 

Chapter 6

General Irving stood in the small park to the north of the United Nations complex listening to someone from the White House spout nonsense until he was tempted to just hang up on them. He looked at the traffic on United Nations Plaza ease past wondering if everyone would be so calm if they knew what was going on. He looked at his watch again, seeing only two minutes had passed since he last check it, wondering when the idiot on the phone would stop trying to cover his ass before anything became public. It was fucking insane.

He had been in the military for over thirty-six years and never had he felt so unmoored. It was as if the very ground moved under his feet.

“Yes, yes, whatever, but you do know—”

The asshole cut him off again, rambling on about national security as if he didn’t understand the implications.

“I have to go,” he uttered and abruptly ended the call. He took a deep breath and headed back inside. In an hour the United Nations would be listening to someone give them a speech. Someone who claimed to live in some underwater city. He thought it was bullshit, for they had never seen such a city, nor after the initial contact when they began a full search. They used satellites, every available submarine, and even sent drones with a new sonar system over the Atlantic. Nothing. Note one structure. They found shipwrecks and natural formations, but no city. It had to be bullshit. But the contact had shown them their power. Revealed secrets they thought were safe, sent data showing where every submarine was located, where every underwater facility the world’s major powers had built to house nuclear weapons. They sent intel on the White House and some of its dealings with foreign leaders and businessmen, showing the depth of their betrayal, thus the lengthy phone calls by some nitwit that knew nothing about what was going on.

Whoever it was, his money was on Britain or maybe the Japanese, for both had been ramping up their military spending and displaying some new tech to show off. But why the secrecy and distraction, claiming to be some new entity no one knew about. It baffled him, for he didn’t know what their long game was. What did they want? It couldn’t be good.

General Irving made his way in the underground passages from the visitor’s services over to headquarters. Their guest was to arrive soon, but how, no one knew. He was sure it would be something they couldn’t control or keep out of the news. It was already a cluster fuck, for three stations had shown up two hours ago wanting to know what was going on. They had been giving heads up and were now sniffing around like a pack of hounds.

He assumed it would be by armored SUV. He took the elevator up to the fifth floor where he could watch the entrance drive in front. Security was tight, extra men all along the perimeter and to one side a row of armored military troop transports, each one with armed soldiers ready for anything. 

Someone walked past holding their cellphone out looking shocked. He heard someone else gasp, then someone else exclaim, what is that? He pulled out his cellphone and opened the web browser. It didn’t take long to see what everyone was on about for every news site was covering it. The shot was below Verrazzano Narrows Bridge out in Lower Bay where something was slowly rising to the surface. He didn’t need to see a ship or a portion of land to know whatever was surfacing was huge. Massive. It broke through the surface of the water, and he saw an image from above by a news station helicopter. It looked like a giant Manta Ray. The span from side to side appeared to be over a thousand feet across. Maybe two thousand.

How had they gotten so close undetected? If they could—

“Goddamn it,” General Irving uttered, while others gasped. The vessel rose out of the water, higher and higher until about a thousand feet in the air. As the water trickled off it, military jets and helicopters flew around it. His phone rang.

“I see it,” he answered. “Yes, it is not one of ours or anyone else’s that we know of.”

He listened to the hysterical person on the phone while trying to think. Then he realized what they were suggesting.

“NO, do not shoot at that thing. It got this close without being detected. We have no idea what it is capable of.”

He listened then heard the people around him going on about something else happening.

“Listen, do not shoot at it. Do you understand? I’ve got to go,” said General Irving and he hung up. He pulled up the newsfeed and saw a small craft had dropped out of the bottom of it and headed straight toward Upper Bay. He watched it swing around Governors Island and follow the East River until past Williamsburg Bridge. It was moving fast, keeping just high enough to clear the bridges.  Around 38th Street, it swung over land, following 1st Avenue. He moved to the window just in time to see the craft come to a stop over the road right at the entrance. It hovered smoothly, barely moving, then eased forward until over the circular drive. It eased down, landing gear extended, allowing it to land. He looked down on the craft, and realized it reminded him of a stingray in plan.

“General, you’re wanted in the General Assembly Hall,” said a young woman in military attire, rushing toward him.

He glanced out the window one last time, seeing a few soldiers following a five civilians heading toward the craft. The welcoming committee was on its way. He grimaced then headed for the door.

 

General Irving stood at the back of the assembly hall listening to the murmurs of the attendees, so much lower than normal. He knew they were anxious about their visitor and what he represented. A representative of a society that lived in the ocean depths and had little or no interaction with the world’s nations. He admired them for their isolation avoiding all the nonsense of the fools who governed most nations, and it was obvious they were more advanced, for the U. S. military had ways of scanning the ocean that should have picked up something if there was a whole city down there, and they had not picked up anything. In his years in the service, he could think of no reports on unidentified sounds or crafts in the ocean.

The room fell silent and General Irving looked up to see a man approach the podium. The man was younger than most representatives in the assembly hall, for he looked mid-forties, maybe late thirties. Did the undersea society not take addressing the United Nations seriously?

“My name is Jules Chevalier, Minister of Tiamat, the first city of our underwater society. I’m here representing our four cities, Tiamat, Atlantis, Olokun, and Taniwha. Tiamat was first settled after its initial phase of construction in 1893, led by our First Citizen, Adrien Gustave Fontaine and his partner, and Second Citizen, Jean-Louis Dolliode Dubois. By separating from the nations of the world, avoiding your wars and conflicts where most of your research appears to be for more devasting ways to kill each other, we progressed with an eye toward a better future. We exceeded your rate of advancement in all fields, none more importantly than in medical research. Contrary to what my hosts coming here believed, I’m not in my early forties. I’m one hundred and twenty-five years old.”

A hushed murmur filled the assembly hall and Jules waited for silence.

“We advanced in water filtration systems, electricity generation and storage, composite materials, and computer technology. We’ve dealt with your pollution and destruction of the oceans, even on how to remove microplastics from the water.”

Jules took a sip of water and grimaced at the taste of impurities.

“I tell you this for we had debated sharing our knowledge with you. Over the last few decades, we have discussed this, wondering if it was not the moral thing to do, and each time, you would demonstrate to us the danger of revealing ourselves. You attack each other for fossil fuels instead of weening yourselves of it. You attack each other over minerals or if someone might have weapons partially equal to your own. So, we kept our security measures in place and our guard up. And I think your militaries will tell you we have succeeded in preventing the detection of our four cities.

“Meanwhile we did research that defied what most of us understand about our universe. The folding of space and lastly, the technology to enter another dimension of it. It has allowed us space travel you can only imagine in your movies and novels. Yes, we’ve gone into space. For a long time we hadn’t even considered doing it, despite some studies on how, then we saw one of you launch a satellite into space, and a little more than ten years later another land on the moon. It gave us hope for your nations. Hope that you would move from your warring ways, but you pulled back on your space exploration and continued hostilities with each other. So, we started our own space program. Many of you are wondering how we accomplished this without detection. First, we didn’t use crude rockets to break out of Earth’s gravity or to travel through space. Secondly, we didn’t set our goals to exploration of the moon, or maybe Mars. In 1976, using the Hurricane Belle as a distraction, we flew into space and launched our first mission. Our spaceship, the Fafnir, explored the solar system for possible habitable locales. There was some promise to some of the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, but none were ideal, as some of you now know. It would take a huge effort to make a place to live, not just a place of habitation. When Fafnir returned in 1978, sixteen months later, we considered further research into the problem of creating a habitat on one of the moons, that is until the following year when our research teams come across a means of shifting from one place in the universe to another that boggled the mind. We ran tests, dug into the calculations and technology, pursuing what at first seemed just a fantasy.

“Two decades passed before we sent out our first test of this new technology. And for the next ten years we tested it, learned how to fine tune our calculations, to go from one space/time location to another without destroying ourselves.”

Jules fell silent, just looking around the room. He took a deep breath; one picked up by the microphone. He straightened up and began to speak again.

“Then we found out about your plans to mine the oceans. To strip their bottoms for minerals, devasting the ecosystems. We couldn’t believe you would even consider such a thing, then we considered the strip mines, your mountain top removal, the tar sands extractions, not to mention the overfishing and agricultural practices that are unsustainable. You were…are killing the earth, far too often for that thing you call money.

“Yes, we don’t have money. We operate our society in a different way, one that we think is fair to all its citizens. We have no wealthy upper class, nor do we have people living in poverty.

“But why am I here before you now? That is the question. I’m here to tell you we’ve had enough and feel it is no longer safe. We know your militaries are making breakthroughs that will soon give you the ability to overcome our security systems and when you do, we can’t trust you to recognize our sovereignty. Based on history, we would be attacked within a couple of years of discovery, if for no other reason than petty greed.

“So, nations of the world, we’re leaving. We have a destination established with crews already there setting up for the arrival of our people. We’ll be where none of you can bother us. Even if you develop the technology to shift through space as we have, the chances of you going to the exact same place are practically zero. You won’t find us. And we, fellow humans, will live our lives in peace and contentment, away from your wars and self-destruction. As to our cities, we have spent the last two years preparing to leave, loading up our vessels with everything we will need, or things we don’t want to leave behind. We are now ready to go, and our four cities are shut down…flooded and closed off.”

Jules waits as the room becomes a white noise of voices. Once everyone falls silent and looks up to him to see what else he has to say, he steps back to the podium.

“I wish you luck, I really do, but we shall not help you. You need to find your own way and with your current system of global markets, a price on everything including your health care and education, we’re afraid you have a long way to go. Some of our scientist even wonder if you’ll make it, telling me you have so many things happening and any one of them could be the thing that makes you go extinct.”

Jules stops, wondering if he has said too much. He is about to tell them it is time for him to go, but he steps back to the microphone.

“We may come back here in the future, and when we do, I hope we find a revitalized earth, one healthy in every way. But we’re afraid your greed will be your undoing.

“It is time for me to stop. I came here because we thought it only fair to explain what you’re seeing take place. The evacuation of a segment of the earth’s population to a new world. We thought you deserved to know and not have calamities over seeing our departure. We’re leaving peacefully, causing no harm to anyone. But if attacked by any nation, we will take defensive measures.

“General Irving, I know you are in back, a representative of the United States of America. I trust you understand the gravity of the situation and the importance of letting us leave peacefully.”

Everyone in the room turned, looking around the back of it. General Irving stepped forward until under a light. He nodded.

“All I have left to say is good-bye,” said Jules, then he stepped back two steps, bowed slightly, and headed off the stage.

 

As the representatives of the nations debated and argued on what to do, General Irving rushed to the helicopter waiting for him. By the time he emerged, the craft in front of the UN was gone. It took too long for the helicopter to spin up its blades but eventually they lifted off, heading south.

It took no time to get to the bridge. The pilot pulled up, flying over it. Before them the ship hovered over Lower Bay, and the pilot flew toward it until near Swinburne Island, where he brought the helicopter to a stop.

General Irving looked up at the ship stunned by its size. It was larger than he first imagined and seemed to hover in place perfectly still.

“General, we’re getting reports of other vessels like this one rising out of the oceans,” said the pilot.

“How many and where?”

“Two more out to our east, four off the coast of Spain, three off the coast of Japan, and…three off the coast of New Zealand.”

“Thirteen of these things,” said General Irving as he watched the one in view begin to move forward. It swung around over their heads and over the end of Coney Island, climbing higher and higher, accelerating as it did so. Suddenly it was moving fast, quickly climbing too high to see.

“Get me Eglin. I want to know what is happening up there,” said General Irving.

“Yes sir,” said pilot, transferring the com to him.

“You’ve got them on radar?” said General Irving.

“Yes, general, they are converging over the North Pole.”

“The North Pole?”

“Yes, sir. Wow, they are fast. They should be together in a few minutes.”

“Stay on the line and keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir.”

The general looked around at the pilot seeing an expression he knew he possessed as well.

“General!”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“They’re gone.”

“Gone? Gone where?”

“That’s just it. They converged together, started moving away from earth, then they were just gone.”

 

Chapter 7

Space seemed to shiver, distort, then thirteen ships appeared. They fell into a loose formation and flew toward the star they named Arka. They passed three outer planets, knowing there were two others in outer orbit on the other side of the star. Closer to the star, their new sun, there were three more planets, the third, like earth, in an ideal orbit for life.

Their first explorers had named the star and its planets, names that came from old myths from their earth. Olorun was the closest planet and one of the smallest. The second planet was Jumala which had one moon, Hera. The third planet, one with life evolving similar to earth during the age of early mammals and the one to be their new home, was Varuna. It had three moons, two of which were always visible in the nighttime sky. The largest moon was Magec, the next, similar in size to earth’s moon but further away was Taranis, and the third moon, the smallest of the three was Anshar. The fourth planet was Ao which had three moons, Meztli, Aditi, and Nyx. The next planet was an icy giant, larger than any planet around earth, but still smaller than the two largest around Arka, they named Ullr. The largest planet was in orbit far out from Ullr was named Eototo and its two moons named Tzacol and Ira. Further out were the last two planets. Boreas, the second largest of the planets, and Marici, a planet the size of earth but made up of rocks that were mostly black.

The ships swung around the sun to allow passage by each planet so the people could see each one, then they circled the sun once more on course to land on Varuna, their new home. The ships would land around the established bases, four in total only four hundred kilometers apart from each other. One was on a plateau that rose a thousand meters over the ocean, one was on a large lake nestled in a valley, and the other two were on plains to the south next to two major rivers. The ships would serve as habitats, with engineering dismantled to make room for other services they would eventually need as the population grew. Over time they would expand the cities, but never larger than the area was able to support them. As for the rest of the planet, they would leave it alone, only exploring it as they had done the oceans for discoveries to aid in medical and technological advancements. 

Jules and Albert were the last to disembark to see their new world, the two men holding hands as they often did. They watched those around them marvel at the moon in the daytime sky while some strolled to the edge of the cliff face to look out over the ocean.

“Will this be paradise?” said Albert.

“Oh, yes. The weather is tropical, mild, with moderate winds, and we’ll encroach on it as little as possible,” said Jules.

“Gustave and Jean-Louis should be here.”

“They did envision this day.”

Albert strolled out toward the cliffs then stopped. He turned to Jules. “Do you think anyone back on earth will ever find us?”

“Dr. Alizadeh estimates it’ll take China or the United States fifty years to figure out how to fold space and another twenty or more to figure out how to slip into another dimension. By then we’ll be further away, and Arka will be blocked by two other stars.”

“So, unless they map the night sky now and know what to look for, they’ll lose sight of us.”

“Yes. So, I think we’re safe.”

 

They strolled back to their vessel, crews already at work anchoring it in place. They entered through a service door and made their way back to their quarters.

 

Epilogue

Eska and Perth strolled out of the city following the path that led into the woodland. They passed others who were returning to the city for the day was coming to an end. After a while they had to turn on their flashlights to see the path, because they refused to place artificial lights in the woods. They moved deeper into them until they could hear the small creek cascading over rocks on its way to the river. Coming into a small clearing where the creek dropped over its highest drop, only two meters high, and formed a pool roughly eight meters by ten meters in size, before slipping over rock to the next section of the creek.

The day was nearly over for everything in the clearing was shades of grey, their color washed out by the diminished light. Perth shined his light on the statue in the middle of the pool, two figures on a pedestal of pure white rock. It was a memorial of Gustave and Jean-Louis, their First and Second Citizen. Gustave was stooped down reaching into the water and Jean-Louis was standing at his side looking up into the sky. It followed the stories of how Gustave was the leader of them going into the depths of the oceans of Earth. The one who guided them in building Tiamat, then Atlantis, Olokun, and Taniwha, their great underwater cities. It was Jean-Louis who pushed for their exploration of space and ultimately leaving the Earth. There were many involved in each endeavor. Those that resolved the science, did the testing and research. Perth swung his flashlight to their right to the plaques mounted on the rock face facing the pool that listed the most important citizens that were involved in their advancement. The plaques were eighty centimeters high by five meters long.

“Remember when Gustave and Jean-Louis visited us, and Jean-Louis gave the speech about their break throughs in how to travel in space?” said Eska.

“Yes. I didn’t understand most of it and kept wondering if they were serious.”

“Most of us didn’t understand it.”

“They had the ability to see what was possible. Do you think Earth will ever figure out what they knew?”

“If they don’t destroy themselves first.”

Perth didn’t respond to what Eska said, letting the sound of the woodland and creek fill the air. Eska moved behind Perth and hugged him, looking over his shoulder. They rocked slowly watching the water cascade over the rock and into the pool.

“We should go back,” said Perth.

“Yeah,” said Eska.

But they didn’t move, instead they watched the water until the light was gone and night settled over the land. Something splashed in the water and bird song began, the nocturnal species stirring about. Then Perth giggled when Eska kissed the back of his neck in that special place that always led to sex.