Hubris, Ice, And Steel

20260502

Written for Bradley Ramsey's "Halls Of Pandemonium" challenge, Day 2.

Since time immemorial, humanity had bargained with the forces who controlled the ocean. They stayed close to shore, in the shallow regions which no powerful water denizens cared to claim. They made offerings to the deeps. Worshipped or even married entities who promised safety, and the ability to harness the immense possibilities for travel which the boundless waters offered.
Thomas Andrews Jr was done with asking.
Six thousand tonnes of steel plating, each inscribed with nine major wards and fourteen minor. A mosaic of protection - and defiance, against forces which had long treated humanity like toys, tools, or worst of all, food. Arranged with care, to form webs of magic which coated the entire ship.
“An impregnable defence!” was proudly declared to the crowds who thronged to see this marvel of modern design leave port. “With the direct oceanic routes this unlocks, paired with the powerful new engines, the Atlantic crossing can be completed in half the time - and in not only safety, but luxury!”
Not that luxury was extended to all 2,208 souls on board. Most were packed into the comparatively squalid “standard class”. Discretely out of sight of the rich and famous who enjoyed the state of the art facilities above.
Besides the opulent cabins, there were smoking rooms, multiple restaurants, a gymnasium, even a swimming pool with full spa facilities. The ship was designed to be a floating town. Proof that humanity had, through generations of relentless improvements in both magic and technology, conquered all frontiers.
Alongside the socialites and notable figures was Thomas Andrew Jr himself. Proudly answering any and all questions about his masterpiece.
“We shall be in New York City before you’ve finished trying all the dessert options!” Thomas laughingly declared to the admiring crowd, who whooped approval.
For the first few days, most passengers stayed below decks. Too nervous to face the open ocean. But, when it was announced that they were over halfway to their destination, taking in the fresh air became increasingly popular.
“No sacrifices of blood, no wedding your children to beasts draped in seaweed, no fear of capricious gods reneging on your agreement - finally, humanity is in control of our travel!”
Such a mass of iron and magic could not go unnoticed. That was fine. Its designers and builders and staff were confident that it being noticed would inspire fear and impotent rage in those who used to control the sea passages. No magic nor mundane ocean hazard could sink the Titanic. It would withstand any spell, any curse, or even a typhoon.
And if there’s one thing the Deep Ones respect, it’s chutzpah.
Sadly, respect does not mean peace.
Such a challenge could not go without response.
On April 14th, four days into the voyage, tantalisingly close to completing a triumphant maiden outing and opening a new page in humanity’s history, the Titanic encountered rough seas. Low-hanging clouds. Corposant lightning sliding over the waves, outlining them in sickly green - and hinting at shapes moving beneath.
Familiar intimidation tactics. A sign that whatever monsters believed they owned this stretch of sea had decided to take offence, and the victims of their attention must “apologise”.
The crew advised all passengers to stay safely inside, and to pay no heed to these antiquated gestures of superiority. “They’ll discover the futility of their posturing soon enough.”
No more would ships’ crews be forced to draw straws and cast one of their own overboard! No longer would it be necessary to turn back and pray the edge of this territory was near, or beseech another fickle power for aid. No. Iron, wards, and fire! That is how humanity would rule!
Thomas had used only the finest, strongest, most resilient steel in his designs. The best humanity could make. It had been rigorously tested at every stage of development, right up until this first true voyage.
Neither he nor anyone else could have foreseen that after four days in frigid salt water, the steel plates would become dangerously brittle.
As night fell, the sea roiled with bubbles and phosphorus glow. Here and there eyes could be seen. The ship was certainly surrounded. Warbling songs drifted out of the darkness, a warning which resonated deep in human brains. Survival instincts fought to take root and were pushed back by rationalism.
There was no longer any danger. What could merfolk do against armour they couldn’t get close enough to touch? What could even a kraken do against an ungraspable iron castle built to withstand the worst weather conditions imaginable?
Below decks, people partied loud and proud and, almost buried, scared. And Thomas Andrews Jr reassured everyone around him that an assault by sea denizens would not even slow the journey.
As midnight approached, the singing faded, as did the glow coating each wave. The Titanic sailed in sudden, eerie dark silence.
Until something rose from the deep.
A cetus, sea-serpent, or any number of names given to it by frightened humans in antiquity. Suddenly seeming so small against this leviathan of a ship. Its jaws impotent against iron, its massive muscular trunk insufficient to encircle the Titanic, even if it could withstand the wards.
It flared its pearlescent crest and shrieked a final warning.
The helmsman blasted the foghorn in response - and did not divert course.
Seeing this, the cetus snarled and its tail swished into view, a huge white mass held like a club. Was that…?
Yes. The monster had an iceberg.
For the first time, doubt managed to take hold in the crew’s hearts. Would the plating withstand such a physical blow? Nobody expected the sea denizens to bring such weapons, for even the greatest of them wouldn’t be able to haul rocks from the distant ocean floor.
They sought to change tack. But it was far too late.
At the first crushing blow, the cold iron shattered and water poured into the impregnable hold. Carrying merfolk with it, spears and nets held ready.
Ready to write a grim page in humanity’s history.

Prompt was “Write about the sinking of the Titanic, only this time, it wasn’t an iceberg…”
[Ok, ok, it was technically still an iceberg, because I like the synchronicity. But I hold this was different enough from real-world events to qualify.]