Torment of Tantalus

by Bard Constantine

  Just hope it doesn’t disrupt the controls.

  The submarine’s cabin was arranged in three segments with the pilot and co-pilot seat at the front, guest seats in the rear, and a private emergency restroom in the back hull compartment. The large acrylic hemispheres allowed for a full viewing experience, largely unobstructed by siding. It was the best money could buy; with a large entry hatch, staircase, and spacious interior complete with convertible seating arrangements and comfortable room for all the occupants.

  Elena glanced at the luxury accommodations as she joined him, sliding in the co-pilot’s seat. “Nice coffin to die in.”

  “We’re not going to die.” His lips curved in a tight smile, his eyes focused as he guided the submarine with the steering controls.

  “I hope you’re right.” She placed a shaky hand on her brow, her earlier animosity dissolved. He understood. They were allies again, united in their goal of survival.

  “We’re going to make it.” He felt assured in his statement. They’d come too far to fail. They were going to escape.

  Though the water glinted with muted light, he steered the sub with caution, weaving between large cables as he propelled away from the habitat.

  “What are those?”

  “They go to the ocean floor, channeling the energy from the fissure. Some are also anchors holding the habitat in place.”

  “No.” Elena pointed. “The larger ones.”

  The submarine’s lights illuminated thick, winding objects that dwarfed the habitat cables. They were wider than the submarine and seemed to have no end. Thick flora and barnacles clung to them, nearly concealing their surface. The appendages moved, swaying in water like vines the size of skyscrapers. Enormous rounded disks covered the underside, looking suspiciously like pale, soft suction cups.

  Elena’s eyes widened. “You don’t think—”

  Nathan stumbled over from the rear compartment, his voice lowered to an urgent whisper. “Dim the lights.”

  Blackwell quickly obeyed, killing the main lights and plunging them into darkness illuminated only by the violet pulses and the sub’s tiny auxiliary lights. His stomach clenched as he carefully steered them above one of the huge tentacles. It wriggled underneath, too close for comfort; a never-ending serpent with no visible beginning or end. More enormous appendages drifted all around them, most reduced to gargantuan shadows in the gloom.

  “Where are they coming from?”

  “I don’t know.” Sweat slid down Blackwell’s face. The tentacles were everywhere, any one of them capable of crushing the submarine with the slightest ease. Negotiating the cramped space took all the skill he could muster in a deadly combination of diving under and over the serpentine limbs.

  A noise rattled the sub, a trumpeting groan that sounded like mountains clashing together.

  “Get us out of here!”

  Blackwell’s teeth clenched. His hands tightened on the controls, risking a burst of speed. They shot forward, barely clearing the mass of wriggling appendages. He heard twin sighs of relief from Nathan and Elena.

  Life swam around them. Aquatic creatures drifted by, pale and translucent, glimmering with voltaic hues as if powered by electricity. Fish, jellies, and strange, bizarre swimming creatures with grinning mouths and glowing eyes filled the waters as if disturbed from the darkest, deepest pits of the ocean.

  “Oh my God.”

  Nathan stared behind them, his mouth ajar, fingers pressed against the glass. Blackwell eased off the propellers and angled the sub for a better look. What he saw was too terrifying to believe.

  It was as if a mountain had come to life. Beyond massive, it loomed nearly beyond the range of vision. The colossal head consisted mainly of rows of dull red eyes and the same tentacles they had just emerged from. The rest of the creature was covered in rocky carapace, dark scaly skin that glinted in the purple light. It was too large to see entirely, much of it lost in the gloom. But what was visible was enough. It was a primordial Titan, some ancient effigy emerged from a realm where gods and monsters still ruled.

  Elena gasped. “Were we on top of that thing all this time? Is the Tantalus built on it?”

  The tentacles wriggled, and the sound emitted again; a deep, nearly melodic moan. The submarine rocked as the sound struck it, the seismic vibrations rattling the interior. The creature stirred, staring their direction with eyes like red moons. Intelligence shimmered in their terrible depths, recognition of the submarine and its horrified occupants.

  Nathan tapped his shoulder. “We have to go. Now.”

  Blackwell swallowed and nodded, seizing the controls as the creature’s tentacles stretched toward them. Sea animals fled in glimmering streaks, on their way to safer waters.

  Light blazed from everywhere.

  The creature trumpeted as a flare of pure violet erupted from underneath it. The cord of galvanic energy sizzled as it surged toward the surface. The creature writhed as it was caught in the beam of purple light. A terrible sound emitted from its core, the scream from a legion of agonized throats. The dark form rippled, squid ink on boil, a dark cloud trying to hold itself together.

  The force of the blast was too strong. Blackwell thought he saw faces at the last moment, millions of ebony, screaming faces laced across the entire surface of the creature. It finally disintegrated in the blast, ripped to pieces as if its gargantuan mass were nothing. The fragments were dissolved, quickly devoured by the brilliant channel of violet energy. The force flared outward, rushing toward them in visible ripples of pure energy.

  Blackwell gritted his teeth. “Everyone get strapped in!”

  The shockwave struck the submarine with the crushing force of a boot against an aluminum can. They were flung through the waters as if the ocean didn’t exist. The light blazed, obliterating everything. The world span in disorienting, stomach-churning circles. He heard screams, not certain if they were from Nathan, Elena, or himself. The unnerving sounds of steel buckling and glass cracking were unnaturally loud, so similar to the sounds when the Gorgon was destroyed. The realization struck Blackwell with ominous certainty. He had been wrong about beating the odds.

  He wasn’t going to make it after all.

  Postlude: Detritus

  From his vantage point on the USS Knightmare, Senator Jack Blackwell stared at the end of the world.

  They had pushed through a storm of catastrophic proportions, where for a panicked moment he actually thought the entire carrier would go under. The legend of the Bermuda Triangle and its mysterious disappearances had loomed in his mind, and he wondered if it was his fate to die chasing the ghost of his foolhardy son.

  But the Knightmare hadn’t sunk, and the waters eventually calmed to choppy seas of normal scope. But no sign was found of the Tantalus or Alexander’s ship, the Halifax. It was as if both had completely vanished, wiped out of existence. But Jack refused to believe Alex was dead. Blackwells didn’t die so easily. He’d taken four bullets in Vietnam and been left for dead. He survived. His father had been a POW in WWI. He survived. It seemed a Blackwell legacy to succeed in the face of imminent death. He’d been worried that Alexander would never have that defining moment, never rise from the ashes and be reborn a new man. A better man.

  A Blackwell.

  Well, Alexander’s moment was upon him. So when the captain told Jack nothing was out there, he just sneered. When his team of scientists and researchers told him they couldn’t pinpoint any signs of energy or life, he told them to look harder. When the president of the United States called with a request to call off the mission and return for a much-needed conference on the Bermuda situation, Jack hung up on the President.

  There was no turning back. It was his son out there. He was alive. Jack knew it.

  He had to be.

  Jack stood on the outside rampart of the command deck, squinting in the rain. He had enough of being inside, where the halls reeked of sweat and vomit. He wanted to be outside the control room, stare into the face of his enemy. The waves w
ere still strong and powerful, but nothing he hadn’t seen before. He glowered at the dark, angry water as it threw its power against the battleship. The wind was equally vicious, flinging rain so hard it stung. Jack endured; hands behind his back, legs braced against the howling billows. The worst was over. It was only a matter of time before they picked up his son’s signal.

  Then the phenomenon occurred. In an instant, the ocean changed. The roaring waves, the shrieking winds, the terrible storm. All dissipated in a single moment, from storm to calm so suddenly it was terrifying. The waters went still, without a ripple as far as he could see.

  Uneasy muttering buzzed from the commanders behind him. He shared their disbelief, staring at what could only be considered the most unnatural of abnormalities.

  A thick, sizzling beam of energy erupted from the waters, so intensely bright that Jack was temporarily blinded. When his vision refocused he was on the cold steel of the rampart floor, weak and trembling. Helping hands grabbed hold of him, lifted him up. Someone slipped a pair of heavy shielded glasses over his eyes.

  “Sir, are you all right?”

  “Sir, we need to get you inside.”

  “Sir, we don’t know what—”

  He waved away their protests and suggestions, pushing his way forward until he saw it. He had to know. Know if it was real.

  The end of the world.

  The sizzling cord of unknown energy was miles away, but appeared impossibly large, the circumference of a small city if his hasty guess was anywhere near accurate. The violet-white stream rose from the ocean all the way to the sky, where clouds roiled like froth from boiling water. The sky darkened, a purplish-black blanket smothered the entire horizon. Lighting glimmered, striking the waters in continuous flashes of blistering light.

  My God, Alexander. What have you done?

  There was no guessing what the effects would be. The ultimate range of the phenomenon. The damage to the atmosphere. The effects on biological life.

  Biological life.

  His breath exploded from his lungs as the urgency hit. The imminent danger. He turned to his commanders.

  “Everyone inside. We all need to protect ourselves from exposure. Diving suits, hazmat, biohazard—whatever uses stored air. Get moving!”

  They rushed to obey, nerves breaking from the nearness of the phenomenon. The energy beam tinted the entire horizon purplish-blue. Jack heard it over the wind—a trembling chord that reverberated over the waters like the world’s most portentous musical note. As his men hustled him inside, he took a last look over his shoulder.

  And saw something even more impossible.

  ∞Φ∞

  Harsh breathing from the inside of his biohazard helmet. The glass wasn’t supposed to fog up, but it did. He swiped his hand across the outer surface for the third time, realizing again that it was the interior that was fogged. Nothing he could do. It was his current situation in a microcosm.

  Complete helplessness.

  He wondered if anyone else had seen what he had. No one mentioned it. Everyone had been running, rushing to get inside. In a way he regretted that final look. If he hadn’t turned around, he wouldn’t be paralyzed by terror. Terror of what he had witnessed. Terror of a completely new world.

  The battered remains of a submarine was sprawled across the deck of the carrier. Tiny and insignificant against the massive space of the carrier strip. But it was the most important thing in the world. His son was inside, along with two other survivors. That should have been his focus, his world. A miracle had occurred. Against all odds, his son’s submarine had been washed aboard his father’s carrier. Everyone talked about it, their voices marked with awe and disbelief. To them it was impossible happenstance, divine intervention, perhaps.

  Divine intervention.

  Jack had seen a man appear in the sky. Clear and distinct against the lightning-scarred backdrop, it had definitely been human in form. Too far away to see any distinguishable features, and only visible for a moment. The submarine had followed the man, as if a toy towed by some invisible string. The figure flew by, depositing the sub on the deck before darting away in a blurring streak of rain. Faster than a supersonic jet, he vanished from sight in mere seconds.

  And in the distance, the beam of light continued to destroy the sky.

  Jack had stopped going to church save for special occasions. He considered himself too rich to go regularly, not the way the bloodsuckers behind the pulpit demanded their pound of financial flesh. He didn’t think much of it. He believed in God in his own way, and figured trying to live a good life was the whole point anyhow. Now he considered the subjects he’d only glossed over, the terror and doom of Revelations with its prophecies of fearful sights in the skies and monsters rising from the deep.

  Because what he had just witnessed could only be described as biblical.

  He shook his head. It was impossible to figure out, or even fully comprehend at the moment. He’d have to study the video feed from the hundreds of cameras positioned all over the carrier. Dissect the information, shuttle it to the top minds in their respective fields. In a few seconds, the world had irrevocably changed. Maybe it was the start of Armageddon, or maybe it was an attack from hostile invaders. He had spent the trip catching up on the Gorgon and Tantalus missions, and didn’t like what he’d learned. He’d have to move quickly. Alter every plan, initiate new strategy, innovate contingencies to combat the coming invasion.

  But first, his son.

  Alexander had just been extracted from the damaged sub. He looked up as Jack approached. His face was bloody and bruised, but a smile touched his cracked and swollen lips. It was as if he wasn’t at all surprised to see Jack there. As if he had counted on it. A metal case was in his hands, clutched protectively against his chest as if it were the most important thing in the world. His eyes were striking, glimmering with purple flecks.

  “Hello, father,” he said. “I did it.”

  ∞Φ∞

  “I hope things aren’t too confining.” Dr. Crestor spoke quietly, peering over his thin-framed spectacles.

  “It’s not so bad.” Nathan glanced over the decontamination room he was confined in. The size of a small office, it was equipped with a full bathroom, an exercise machine, king-sized bed, television, and a corner desk with computer and internet access. The wide window panels could be clouded at the push of a button for instant privacy. Everything was sleek, composed of white and aluminum. Everything was clean.

  “I can get used to it. It’s a lot better than being out there.”

  “Do you mean the Aberration, or here on the carrier?”

  “Of course I mean the Aberration.” Nathan’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t trust psychiatrists. They were trained to classify, reducing people into personality types, afflicted with issues that needed a greater mind to solve. Shrinks tended to peer down their noses at everyone else, convinced they were the smartest people in the room.

  Crestor was as stereotypical as they came. Salt and pepper hair, clean-shaven, gym fit. A condescending smile came complete with the package. He was separated from Nathan by a thick sheet of acrylic glass. Nathan glanced up at the duct in the ceiling where clean, sterile air was fanned in. He was grateful. He didn’t want to breathe the same air as Crestor. Something about the way the man continually sniffed made Nathan’s hairs stand on edge.

  “The decontamination is only a precaution, of course. You can expect to be released as soon as you’re cleared by the doctors on the mainland.”

  Nathan barked a wry laugh. “The scientists, you mean. Poking and prodding like we’re some damned monkeys in a research lab. I’ve already contacted my lawyers. I’m not going to stand for being involuntarily detained like you did to Michael.”

  Crestor paused. “I didn’t detain Michael.”

  “You’re working for the Blackwells. For Chimera. Same organization, same thing.”

  “I’m an independent contractor hired to—”

  “An independent contractor tha
t just so happens to be engaged to the former girlfriend of Michael McDaniel. You don’t think I recognize you? I knew Chimera was ruthless, but employing you to systematically take Michael’s girlfriend out of his life? That’s a new level of cold. I guess you must be relieved Michael won’t be coming back.”

  “I was hired to supply psychiatric and emotional support to Cynthia Graham, who was on the verge of a complete breakdown. The ensuing romance was entirely incidental, however. And I’m actually sorry about Michael, especially in the case of his daughter. No child should grow up without her father.” Crestor leaned back, giving one of those expert knowing gazes psychiatrists kept in their arsenal. “You don’t like me, do you?”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I think the idea of psychiatric evaluation is a complete waste of time. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “You’ve been through a severely traumatic experience that—”

  “Not the first time.”

  “You mean the death of your father. In your debriefing you mentioned a rather graphic revisiting of the ordeal inside the Aberration. Let’s talk about that.”

  Nathan’s face heated. “Why? Why is any of this important? You know what’s going on. What’s out there. The beacon hasn’t stopped. It’s still blazing, turning the entire sky purple all around the globe. There’s no telling what damage it’s doing to the atmosphere or marine life. How much damage it will do to us. The entire world is on edge. Every channel fixated on the same images. The internet crashing several times already because everyone with access is logged on 24/7, fixated by it. The anomaly. The Desolation, they’re calling it. Can you think of anything more ominous? And you want to know what makes me tick. Don’t you have something better to do?”

  Dr. Crestor looked uncomfortable for the first time, staring at his hands as if they held the answers. “I suppose it’s force of habit, Nathan. Rather than fold up and surrender, or lose myself in a fog of helpless panic, I focus on what I can control. What I can do. I concentrate on my work. What are we without purpose, after all?”