Dateline: September 24, 2050, 00:55
The group sits within the Silverfish, an early 2030s era military ‘stealth’ submersible that Combat Cabs likely bought either as military surplus or on the black market. The fish is small, cramped, and claustrophobic, and anyone who sat inside one for any length of time would agree that the repetition is justified. The sub arrived an hour after Dweezil made the call, piloted by Brock, a no-nonsense damned-near android of a sub pilot. A few bits and pieces of contraband lay on the seats – it’s obvious that this sub was recently used for cargo transportation duties, rather than mere personnel transport.
Eleanor Sanders lies in the middle of the sub, completely blocking the aisle; she’s dressed in a loose black jumpsuit and connected to a life support system, but remains unconcious and flat as a board. Brock’s voice sounds from the intercom. “We’re pulling up on the port now. ETA, five minutes. We’ll hit soundly at 0100.”