Among the Depths

Lat: XX  Lon: XX  Depth: m  Day #:

Lieutenant Raul Benavides Log entry 00009

A month out of port and the old habits and tricks are settling in. I can’t stomach much food, my meals have gone down to two a day on a good day, but I seem to be doing OK. It started a bit earlier than the last time we went under. I wonder if any of these bits were showing up on my first trips in the Navy but I simply didn’t notice… maybe they were only showing up towards the last few days. I still feel like this is relatively recent, though.
I miss the land… more and more each time. Enough that I’m wondering just how many more incursions I can physically and mentally endure before I have to call it quits on the sub-life. I wonder if Matarrita’s already running a line on how much longer I’ll be up for these trips, I’d take the over just to mess with them!
Haven’t gotten the willies yet… that’s good. Haven’t heard of anybody getting weird either, but it’s still early in the sub-season. There’s a full regiment this time around so odds are someone will turn up batshit.
I am getting a better deal this time around, duty-wise; not much grunt work but still a far cry from those plump Hijos Confederados bastards. Nothing to do about that, born with the wrong set of genes, the wrong last name, the wrong lineage, can’t catch a break no matter what we plebes do, especially down here.
You would think that, since we Puntaplatans get to play watchdog for the Confederate States of Loyola, we might have a shot at getting a better deal in life. They just outsource their naval operations now; we’re just glorified customer service agents getting paid peanuts for a job nobody wants to do anymore in the first world. The dirty work. I don’t mind dirty money, though, as long as it’s flowing and it doesn’t discriminate on whose pockets it lines.
I hope that pompous bastard Dante Espinoza actually reads this log! Fascist pig thinks just because he’s a pure-bred who’s Admiral thanks to his family’s clout… ah, well, nothing to do but keep one’s head low when the world’s run by bigots…

Lat: XX  Lon: XX  Depth: m  Day #:

Lieutenant Raul Benavides Log entry 00018

It was bound to happen. The first of us to fall under the song of the deep this season, Bernabe Retana, he just lost it today. We were in the mess hall having a meal when he simply got up and started going on about someone singing outside of the sub. Like he could hear this song but wanted it to stop. It took five of us to get him down so the medic could shoot him full of tranqs. Not nice, Bernabe’s a hefty man. Knocked out a couple of guys before he was put under. He’s in containment, now. One of those lovely cells, 2 meters to a side, a little padding so the nuts won’t hurt themselves, a retractable shitter that goes into the back wall opposite the door and not much else.
I don’t know Bernabe very well but he doesn’t strike me as the unstable type. He is a bit green as far as the sublife goes, so maybe he’s just not cut out for this line of business. Most of the guys seemed to take it well, though; money exchanged hands as the payouts were given. Everyone had a stake on who would cave-in first, my money’s still on Viceadmiral Andrauss. There’s just something about him that makes me think he’s going to snap at any time. So now I’m a few coins short.
One thing that struck me as odd was that native, Hermidio Talamanca. Gave me the willies, the way he just sat there eating his meal while we divided the pool prizes. I think he sat that way while we fought Bernabe down. He kept looking at me, too. Made me damn uncomfortable but what the hell was I going to do? Start a fight and get sent to a containment suite, too? I’m thinking I should put a little money on that indigenous bastard biting the walls before too long…
Lat: XX  Lon: XX  Depth: m  Day #:

Lieutenant Raul Benavides Log entry 00035

Things getting really weird around here lately. There’s this mood going around, I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s almost like a fog. It’s like a bad trip…
Another sap fell under the spell the other night. Not a big deal, I was told. I wasn’t around but the bunk mates of the guy, Reynaldo Guillen, said he just went into spasms and convulsions. He was spewing gibberish. Again, no money for me.
I’m having more trouble than usual sleeping. Down to one meal a day, too. Sometimes, when I’m awake in my bunk waiting for sleep, I hear funny sounds. I think it might be the hull adjusting to the pressure but something doesn’t seem right about it. I’m not piping up about it, though. Not looking forward to spending any amount of time in one of the luxury rooms!
I was informed earlier that I’ve got to take over some radar duty. Nothing difficult, just watch the different sonar screens, be on the lookout for smugglers and try to keep us clear of anything. Piece of cake. Maybe it’ll help land me in a better position by the time we make it back up to the surface.

Lat: XX  Lon: XX  Depth: m  Day #:

Lieutenant Raul Benavides Log entry 00042

Fuck me sideways! I think I’m losing it. Been on damn radar duty for a couple of weeks and it doesn’t take fucking genius to realize something’s not right. The moods are the same, that damn fog sticks to everything. You can’t quite see it but it’s in the air, you breathe it. Then the sonar’s driving me nuts. There’s blips popping up, huge fuckers, just there for a moment and then gone!
The sounds at night are even clearer, now. I swear, it sounds like something’s caressing the sub. Something with teeth.
Today that indigenous bastard caught me alone in a corridor and he looked at me, standing in front of me, blocking my way. He looked at me. And he said something like ‘you hear it, don’t you?’.
A couple of hours later they told me he put himself into one of the containment cells, voluntarily. Spoke with the medic and, whatever Hermidio said, the medic thought it wise as well.
Still a few months before the sub’s due to surface and I think everyone here needs to be put on something. That fucker Dante keeps acting like nothing’s going on. I swear, if he can’t see what’s under his pampered nose than what use is he as Admiral?

Lat: XX  Lon: XX  Depth: m  Day #:

Lieutenant Raul Benavides Log entry 00054

Been talking to the indigenous bastard. Decided to see what the hell he meant when he’d caught me alone in that corridor that one time. He hears it, too. Knows about the giant blips on the sonar. Knows about this shit.
His tribe, he says, used to be sailors, way back in the day, many generations ago, maybe hundreds of years, I don’t know. He says they stopped when the seas changed, something in the ocean awoke. They stopped traveling into the mainland of Punta Plata and stuck to their little archipelago, not going into the deeper waters. They talk of some god or monster that used to sleep, long ago. The legends among his people say that It has been waking up and that its dreams are spilling over into the ocean, his songs change everything.
He said he asked the medic to put him in the cells because he knew he couldn’t stand the songs much longer. I still don’t hear any songs, just the caressing. I think I hear it all the time, now.
I told Vice Admiral Andrauss about the blips. He gave me the strangest look, like he wasn’t really paying attention to what I was saying and his mind was actually somewhere else. He dismissed all I said and told me to stick to what I was supposed to. Something tells me he hears this song Hermidio’s been talking about. Come to think of it, Bernabe went on about some song when he went batshit. I’ll see if he’s up for talking later…

Lat: XX  Lon: XX  Depth: m  Day #:

Lieutenant Raul Benavides Log entry 00063

Four fuckers in holding, now. That’s the cap. We still have all this time and the four containment cells are already booked! What the fuck is the Admiral thinking!? Just ignoring what’s going on under him. He locks himself in his fucking quarters and does what? Chaos is what’s breeding down here. We’re all animals now, surviving on instinct.
Lotario the bookie won’t be running anymore lines now that he’s bit it on the crazy boat. He’s not talking much, just saying that he saw It in his dreams. Fuck that, I know what he’s seen. What I’ve been hearing, that’s what! Whatever’s singing this song I haven’t heard.
Hermidio says things are going to change a lot soon, that I should get ready. Not sure what he means but I’m down for whatever.
The Vice Admiral’s looking particularly bad, lately. He’s definitely lost it.

Lat: XX  Lon: XX  Depth: m  Day #:

Lieutenant Raul Benavides Log entry 00072

It happened. I finally heard the song. It’s there, almost out of hearing, but I know it now. Once you hear it you can’t stop. It’s beautiful.
It told me things and I did them. The Vice Admiral was very much willing to give me the codes for the holding cells. I released them, the loonies. Bernabe went out with a fury. I thought he was going to do me in right there but he just looked at me for a moment and went on his merry way, making messes with every poor idiot he found. Lotario’s dead to us all. He’s no good. The door’s open but he doesn’t see it. Hermidio came with me.
Hermidio is scary. He kills with such ease! He opened the way for me, made sure none stood before me, not for long. We broke into the Admiral’s quarters. The poor shred of a man was worse off than any of the fools we’d taken down. He had slit his own throat. That made it all easier. We took all the codes we needed and decided to head where the song calls us.
It’s beautiful.


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