Silent as the night, the blades of The Celestine carved onward. A noiseless wind propelled the vessel along the glass-like surface of the continent-spanning frozen ocean: Glassmere, so aptly named for the glass-like sheen of sheet ice that encased the frigid water.
“Light ahead! Ready harpoons!”
The vessel’s crew responded instantaneously to their captain, pulling various levers and pullies to summon forth The Celestine’s vicious armament, a dozen barbed harpoon launchers.
The three angular sails dropped in a mechanical fashion, collapsing in on themselves as they folded into the bowels of the ice ship.
“Navigator Plum, what do you see?”
Plum’s telescopic eyes protruded from his skull, swivelling and honing in on the source of light, a green glow emitted softly from the glass lenses.
“Two figures captain, looks like a boy and…”
“Something else, captain.”
“We’ll see about this something else. Ready my rifle and heat vest, Navigator Plum.”
Twin anchors dropped from the bow, crashing into the ice, spraying crystalline shards as The Celestine slowed to a stop. Captain Folkner leapt off the side and slammed into the ice sheet, her ice spiked boots taking most of the impact. Steam arose from the joints and rivets of her heat vest, half covered by a sweeping crimson overcoat. She loaded a singular iron bullet into the chamber of scoped rifle and pressed on into the bitter night.