Two days ago, journal of Captain Traznik of the Sudak
The box was open when we arrived, and there was no sign of its occupant. We are doomed.
I have told Ivan to flee, and that I would swim for his boat when the fighting stops. I have lied, of course, I plan to see this ship sunk. It cannot be allowed to leave. But Ivan is a good man, and should not die here.
Two weeks ago
I pray to god that when he takes me I do not drown.
I still dream of the sinking of
Akula. The horror my brother must have felt in his last moments. I do not show it, but Ivan knows that something is wrong. He is too kind, and I am afraid that this will get him killed when he is promoted. The war is not merciful to kind men, and neither is the Tsar.
In lighter news, the rats found another store of food. I would have Stanislav whipped, but I suspect that it was not truly his fault that they got aboard. I imagine that they are magic, for I found no holes or way for them to have entered the steel drum, nor did I find a way for them to exit, and were it not for the rat droppings I would suspect someone on the crew for a thief. Also, the rats have eaten the whip, and so I would be unable to make good on such a threat for some weeks.
When we return home I am sure the ship will be fumigated. And if that does not work I shall ask my wife for a talisman, or perhaps to hire a piper.
We are to finish our circuit of Kianida Island tomorrow, and check once more for the Boat. All looks promising, and god willing, the navy will allow us to accompany them during the attack. I would tell my children that I was there, for our first grand offensive.
Thirteen days ago
We picked up our spy after midnight. He did not have the captive I was told about but did have his cargo, an enormous wooden crate under a tarp. It was large and heavy and barely fit inside the hatch, and then only sideways. We have stuck it in the Battery for it would not fit anywhere in the ship save there and the engine room and the Agent refused to let us store it in the engine room.
I imagine this is what Command found interesting enough to risk our ship, but the Agent has given us strict orders not to remove the tarp or look at it on pain of death.
He is an odd man and refuses to give a name save for his royal writ, and so we have all taken to mocking him behind his back. I refer to him as The Agent primarily because I have little else to call him.
We will be in the Crimea within two days, and then his odd mannerisms and grandiose threats will be a tale to tell while drunk and bored
Eleven days ago
We came into sight of Kianida's northern coast after dawn. I had words with Ivan and Ruslan, but all of the instruments claim we were heading the right way and I cannot fault them for believing in the compass. The Agent claims that his cargo should not affect navigation, I do not know if I believe him.
By nightfall, we had arrived at Kianida for the third time.
Tensions are high among the crew, and there have been whisperings about the Agent serving the Turk or some demon being in the cage. The rats, additionally, seem to enjoy his presence.
I found this suspicious at first, they have apparently stolen his cigars and so I suppose either he is as human as the rest of us, or our magic rats are better judges of character than I had assumed. They have also stolen my lighter, but I do not begrudge them this for it was a cheap and sickly thing. I wish only that I knew how they did it.
Nine days ago
I have ordered Ivan to ignore the instruments. We are to orient ourselves north from Kianida, and then pretend they do not exist. It will lengthen our journey, and is risky, but I suspect it is the only way we will complete our mission.
I have not seen the rats of late. Perhaps they are celebrating the success of their work. I am curious as to if magic rats enjoy smoking. Ivan says that they are clearly good Russian rats, and has suggested leaving out a saucer of alcohol for them, as a show of good faith.
Eight days ago
Word on the radio. A battle at Novorossiysk, we have lost, and the Turkish army has escaped Krasnodar Krai. I do not know how many of my fellows have perished, and many of the crew fear that they have lost family.
Additionally, one man has commited suicide and another is dead.
The Agent shot Stanislav, who threw the tarp off of the crate and attempted to open it in front of the crew. Revealing it for a large wooden box wrapped tightly with chains and locks, with small airholes. I did not see it, but the men say they heard breathing from within, and scratching, and laughter. Now I hear it, paranoia perhaps, at the edge of my hearing, laughter and the scrabbling of rats.
George was the suicide. He had poured rat poison into his tea, and died horribly as a result. His wife was at Novorossiysk, and some dark part of my heart hopes that she died quickly, that I will not have to give her this news. Ruslan blames the Agent, and I agree.
Five days ago
I have shot the Agent. He is a witch or a devil and has brought this upon us. Eight men dead, four missing. A corpse devoured by rats within hours as we prepared it for burial. I suspect that they reached the missing before we did.
I have taken to shooting the rats. They have changed, I swear it, but I cannot place how. I think they follow me in the night, I think they drove Yaromir to suicide. I think they are laughing at me. But the men think I simply have taken to hating the things, which they sympathize with.
Four days ago
It attacked during breakfast. We opened a drum for rations and it leapt out and killed Vlad and broke my arm before it fell. It was built from parts of the dead, those who the rats got, who we did not find. I do not know how many more are aboard. I do not know where they could be. Nearly half the crew is dead, and we have not seen shore in some days.
We have found one since then, and another assaulted the control room, killed two men and caused untold havoc before we put it down. I have ordered all the corpses, and any man who dies, to be thrown overboard. We have ceded the lower deck and the Box to the monsters and the rats.
Three days ago
We found one dismantling a torpedo, and killed it before it saw us. It was a victory, and told us that they now how to fire a gun, but turned sour soon. Ruslan went mad while manning the wheel. I was asleep, but Ivan says he began to spasm, and attempted to shoot Iouann but was disarmed and thrown into a bulkhead. Then he began to convulse on the floor and claw at his own back. They removed his shirt, thinking perhaps it was exhaustion or some madness, and found one of those Things attached to his back. A brain in a mass of fat and bone, teeth digging into Ruslan's spine. They killed it, but Ruslan did not survive.
I dream of the Agent's death, now, for it was Ruslan who first suggested to me that he was a devil and not a man.
We do not know how long it was there, but we have searched all the others and found no similar things. We will all die if this continues, and whatever is doing this will take our ship to Russia or Kianida or wherever it wishes. Tomorrow I will take ten men and assault the lower decks, we will kill whatever is in the box, come what may. I believe it may be our only hope.
