"Bring her right to bearing 220 and make our depth 250." Server's telepathic command echoed through the network of human minds that controlled  the submarine.

The vessel banked a little as it began to make a turn and then the  nose tilted slightly upward as it began to rise in the ocean. The submarine  was a remarkable achievement of the United Undersea Colonies. It cruised at  sixty knots and could sprint at speeds close to one hundred. Powered by a mysterious propulsion system that made fuel from the electrical current  generated by sea water flowing over dissimilar metals, and controlled by a telepathic network that linked each of its six-person crew, the vessel was beyond anything that could have been envisioned in the time before the  "Separation".

"Bringing her 'round to 220 and making our depth 250 feet," replied  Lieutenant Dillon, the Control Surfaces Officer. 

The "Separation" had occurred in the year 2061 when the peoples of  Earth devised two strategies to combat the effects of the depleted ozone layer. The "Landies" elected to weather it out using whatever technologies  were available to counteract the effects of the sun's ultraviolet light.  The  "Seabies" had retreated to undersea colonies where the harmful UV rays could  not penetrate. After thirty years of dissimilar, sometimes conflicting  viewpoints the two societies broke all ties with each other.  In twenty years the two societies were at war. The oceans belonged to the Seabies. The land belonged to the Landies. The line had been drawn -- death to those who crossed the line.

"Sonar?" questioned Server.

"Contact bearing 170 -- just coming out of the baffles, sir," replied  Ensign Cathy Wiley. Server noted that she talked out loud, still not  comfortable with the silent communication of telepathy.  

"What the devil are Landies doing out here on the water?" thought Server.

"Probably fishing. Overlord says the ultraviolet radiation is killing all of their crops," thought Piper, the engineering officer. The thought startled the Captain who had not intentionally transmitted across the  net. He would have to be careful or he would end up streaming some thoughts  that could get him in trouble.

"They're a long way from land. " It was Dillon, the control officer. 

"We have our orders. Sonar, how big?"

"Two screws, heavy cavitation, and making about ten turns -- I'd say  it's a light cruiser."

"It'll take one TX torpedo to do the job, Captain." The thoughts  were slightly different from the others and this told Server that it was Garcia, the weapons officer. He was having trouble thinking in English  rather than in his native language of Portuguese. 

"Fire away. I want them dead and gone so I can be back under the  bubble by suppertime." 

"The fish is hot." This meant that the torpedo was away from the  submarine and under its own power. It would accelerate to one hundred and fifty knots before it would hit its target. The explosion would be heard throughout the ocean for fifty miles.

When the torpedo exploded Server felt his sonar officer's scream.  Fool! She should have known better than to listen to the explosion through  the acutely sensitive hydrophones that lined the submarine. She would  probably be deaf now -- no good as a Sonar Officer.

"Sedate her, Garcia." Each crewmember was trained in basic medical  procedures and, now that the target had been eliminated, Garcia was a free asset.  

Server assumed control of the Sonar Officer's functions, listening  through an electrical cable attached directly to his auditory nerve.  Groaning of steel punished more than it could withstand filled the ocean.  The surface vessel was coming apart, singing its death song.  

"Lieutenant Dillon, bring her up alongside. I want to inspect the  damage myself."

Dillon paused. Server had never made such a request after a hit  before. Dillon had never been in the submarine when it had surfaced.  

"Mr. Dillon?"

The Control Surfaces Officer replied, "Aye, sir. Coming alongside. The submarine glided effortlessly to the surface.

Through his porthole the commander of the submarine alone could see  the surface world. An overturned hull, smoke filled air, and a few figures  sitting in a lifeboat were the details that he immediately noticed. The submarine pulled closer to the lifeboat as Server directed his Control  Surfaces Officer. As the submarine glided by the life boat Server saw  three figures. They were gray skinned and very thin with bulbous black eyes.  Products of genetic engineering, they no longer resembled the human seed from  which they sprouted, as was true with Server. The gray skinned ghouls looked  through the porthole at a creature that was mostly head with wires sprouting  from him in a dozen directions. Server looked like some strange jellyfish to  them, and though the submarine commander had been genetically altered  specifically to fit his role he was sure these creatures would find his other  scaly, gill-lunged crewmembers quite horrific as well.  

"Everything clear, Server?" asked Dillon.

Server looked back at the creatures. Their submarine could easily  turn and fire on the trio in the lifeboat, but Server wondered what purpose  that would serve. No longer were they blips on a tactical monitor. They were creatures of flesh and blood.

"Server?"

Overlord had shown them the pictures of the beings they once were.  At the time the commander of the submarine had thought them ugly, but after  seeing the "Landies" he thought differently. It was the Seabies and the Landies that were ugly, sprouted from a noble, beautiful creature. Server felt ill. 

"Server? Please respond." 

"All clear. Let's head home." With those words the submarine  plunged into the cold depths of the ocean and increased its speed to sixty knots. The ride back was quiet. Though Server said nothing through the net  the crew felt his emotions. They felt an extreme sense of loss, and it would  keep them awake long after they went to bed in their safe little undersea bubble of glass and steel.