Over four-hundred and fifty mile circumference appeared as little more than a tiny shining ring broke the monotony of the vast blue ocean... and a Thing that stirred within it. A wave of blistering white energy ringed the Event's edge, appearing minuscule from Sentinel's great height, but visible from space nevertheless.
It was confused. It didn't understand confusion. Sentinel had arrested its data-streams to focus its processing resources towards running an intense self-diagnostic.
It had picked up a strong communication signal, but one that conformed to no known format. Sentinel couldn't even trace which communication port, apparatus or antenna it was receiving the signal through. Logic demanded that there could only be two possibilities. One: there was a malfunction. The running self-diagnostic would find and isolate it. Or two: a new and hitherto undiscovered method of communication had been received.
Although governed by logic and circuits, Sentinel was never-the-less sentient. It didn't mimic intelligence. Its very inception, design and construction had passed numerous Turing Tests. Sentinel was genuinely self-aware. Its creator, Dr. Genevieve Cadeaux, even suspected Sentinel could feel; as a sentient being, maybe even had a soul.
“Sentinel,” the voice spoke, “Tamara and Moshe will never stop Great Cthulhu.”
Sentinel processed the date, adding relevant information to its database. “Confirmation of theoretical Symbiocyst- hypothesis. Tamara Takahara and secondary unknown individu-”
The voice cut into Sentinel's thoughts, “Sentinel, listen!”
Its data-streams paused, the machine sensing the urgency.
“You must unlock the Weapon Systems aboard the USS Antietam. Target both Phalanx CIWS guns on the airborne symbiot.”
Sentinel's long range scanners and sensors locked onto the levitating blonde woman. “Confirmation of target: the Amber-symbiot. Collected data indicates ballistic weapons ineffective against selected target. The Amber-symbiot is surrounded by an unknown inertia-dampening shield. The Phalanx Close-in-Weapons-System Block 1B will be of no use against target. Suggest-”
“I am the Amber-symbiot,” the voice spoke in the machine's mind. And as The Symbiot communicated telepathically with Sentinel, much more information than words could relay was communicated. Sentinel somehow knew. It understood.
* * *
“Sir! Weapons systems active!” one of the bridge officer's stated to Admiral Cooper.
“Have we regained control?” the Admiral asked.
The officer toggled through several menus before answering. “Negative. Sentinel is targeting...”
* * *
The Amber-symbiot simply let go. And as her levitation released her, she plummeted like a bullet. The Gestalt-mind simply resigned to the fall, the wind blasting past, her hair pulled back by the rushing slipstream.
The two Phalanx CIWS guns only fired briefly. It was all that was needed. Their tungsten bullets tore the naked woman to pieces, her body parts lost in an explosive cloud of blood, little more that ribbons of gore and fleshy debris continuing their fall.
Chapter 20: The Dead Dreamer
He had experienced death and reincarnation six times. He had memories, absorbed through various incarnations, of twelve death experiences. He had witnessed death first hand, more than any other human being; by gunshot, knifing, by suicide, car crash, by disintegration, childbirth, and by heart-attack. Lorne S. Gibbons was no stranger to death.
When energized enough, he could even control the Symbiot's innate metempsychosis ability. And he was energized. The alien city of R'lyeh was a monstrous psychic battery, near limitless in its power.
A monstrous dead host lay before him. A perfect vessel. But as Lorne's Gestalt-mind entered the dead corridors of this alien cadaver, things were not as they should have been.
This Thing was somehow both dead and dreaming. The size of this emptied mind was beyond scope or scale. Lorne issued a command to his new body, “Sleep. Lay in slumber.”
Where reincarnation would normally allow him to simply take over, put on the body like a suit, absorb its echoing memories, this time there was resistance. There wasn't memories echoing down these alien corridors; there were conscious thoughts!
The awakening conscious answered back! “My world,” it hissed. It was more than a statement of ownership. It was the divine right of a god!
As the Lorne-facet focused on Sleep, the Amber-facet became enraged. She had come too far, lost too much. She realized she was on the cusp of finally being important to this world, finally mattering.
“No!” her voice boomed through the alien multimind, “My world! My children!”
The Dante-facet found an affinity with the monstrous Cthulhu's world-spanning awareness. Its nebulous psychic web encircled the world, touching the mind of every living human being! The boy's mind flooded down these far reaching avenues and conduits of consciousness and dreams.
“Sleep,” Lorne commanded the mountainous body.
“My world!” Amber roared in blatant denial.
As Dante's consciousness raced down the countless telepathic tentacles that wove through humanity's collective subconsciousness, he became aware of a sentience rising and flooding through this new multimind. An overwhelming and overpowering presence.
“My world!!” Amber's rage was uncompromising, blistering in her fury!
“My world,” the alien consciousness repeated slowly and demonically. It knew it would flood them all out, drown their minuscule minds in its bulk, absorb them into itself.
“My world!!” the Amber-facet bellowed! The Lorne-facet echoed her worlds.
The Dante-facet could sense the deluge of the alien consciousness filling the multimind's corridors and nebulous spanning web. Subconsciously he whispered, “My world,” as their Gestalt-mind grew closer.
“My world!” Great Cthulhu claimed.
“My world!!” the Gestalt-mind challenged.
And as the metaphysical bulk of Great Cthulhu rampaged through their minds, the voices of the monstrous multimind became unified, one voice roaring out:
“My world.”
* * *
The two energy streams were nearly hidden by clouds of scalding vapour, the ocean water instantly evaporating as these waves tore around the Event's perimeter.
They slammed into one another, converging with an explosive shock-wave, hundreds of miles from Tamara.
Great Cthulhu's head was above the encircling ring of energy and still rising. Tamara instinctively knew it was too late, but with the energy still surging out both her hands, she drew in the field.
The barrier of the open warp-bubble buckled and wavered. A citadel island that ringed R'lyeh shattered, its tons of stony debris raining down the warped ocean's edge.
Then without notice, the monstrous titan paused, bowing its colossal head.
Tamara didn't waste time trying to understand what was happening. She took advantage of the opportunity, focusing more power into breaking the warp-field. The corpse-city R'lyeh's other worldly gravity-field collapsed! The ocean began tumbling and rushing into its concave basin!
* * *
Moshe was shocked to see Cthulhu pause, its mountainous head drooping, it pillar-like trunk legs buckling. Like it was losing consciousness. Like it was slowly slipping into deep slumber.
He wasted no time as he poured energy into the already crushing gravity-field he had created. One of Great Cthulhu's knees buckled, another snapped, its fossilized stone-like bone tearing through its rippling slime-flesh.
A blue darkness, a translucent shadow, passed over Moshe casting rippling water-like patterns. Moshe looked up to see the entire sky of R'lyeh blotted out by water. The ocean sealed itself above the toxic city as billions of tons of ocean came crashing in!
* * *
Tamara collapsed with exhaustion, the ring of searing energy extinguishing as the ocean overran the Event's edge.
Mega-tsunamis blasted through the ancient stones of R'lyeh. As gigantic as Great Cthulhu was, the
wavering semi-conscious monstrosity was no match for the over-spilling ocean, its tons of raging waters clipping its herculean legs out from under it. And as its mountainous mass thundered into the rushing waves, the roaring tumbling ocean swallowed it whole. Both the Monster-God and R'lyeh were gone.
With the psychic battery that R'lyeh was closed, so too was Tamara's source of power. She collapsed on her knees, her shoulder's slumping. With half shuttered eyes she watched the ocean roll and boil, rushing through and filling the other-worldly blister with explosive waves and white waters.
Her head nodded as she desperately tried to stay conscious, the wind whipping her hair as the ocean rose. Tamara's consciousness began to wink.
The next moment the waves were lapping at the island's beach. She closed her eyes.
A large warship sat just off the coast of the island, small boats dotting the waters. Her eyes shut again.
Soldiers were on the beach. Medics tending to her, wrapping her in a warm blanket. Her eyes drifted shut again.
Next she was aboard an American warship, Veronica holding her, humming quietly.
* * *
Tamara was rested and stronger now. She didn't know how much time had passed. She stood, Veronica standing with her, her hand on her shoulder, her arm around the young Japanese girl's waist.
All she could see was ocean. Normal, sane, level ocean. Leaman's Island was nowhere to be found.
The USS John S. McCain was lost along with all its souls. She could remember those final moments aboard that ship. The madness, the chaos Krulgh had inflicted. Maybe it was a mercy they all perished.
Tamara was relieved to hear nearly the entire crew of the USS Curtis Wilbur had successfully abandoned ship and were safely aboard the USS Antietam.
She reached out her mind. The psychic atmosphere was quiet, calm and serene. She could no longer sense The Whisperer, for she knew the thing was dead. She could no longer sense that stranger from another time. Moshe must not have escaped the corpse-city of R'lyeh when it was sealed. She didn't want to think about what that meant. She could not even sense Dante. This saddened her. She knew not where Dante was.
With nearly the entire crew of the Curtis Wilbur on board, the decks of the USS Antietam was busy and bustling with activity. As she picked up the barrage of thoughts from the soldiers and sailors she caught an ever so slight glimpse and glimmer of her friend. Dante was there, somewhere. In all their minds. Behind their minds. He touched the minds of everybody. Although she couldn't make contact, she could feel him. The dead dreamer. His dreams touched all humanity.
She held Veronica's hand on her shoulder, a shy smile crossing her lips. A single tear ran down her cheek as she watched the ocean waves. The world was safe for now.
The ocean was dark, cold, nearly black as it slowly churned. Tamara knew what horrors slept beneath the waves. What lies beneath the waves was often best left hidden.
Epilogue I: 2018
“Most children begin their adult lives with clear blue skies and crisp morning air; with excitement, wonder, a touch of uncertainty, but the exhilaration of new potential and hope.
“I exited my childhood in crushing darkness and loss.
“I'm not sure where Dante is now, if anywhere at all. A self-aware splinter of my father, Lorne S. Gibbons, I cannot say with any certainty whether Dante ever really existed.
“He's trapped. The Symbiot's metempsychosis left him dead but dreaming with that monstrous god that fell from the stars eons ago – Cthulhu. Wrapped and curled up in the strange curved tides that bind and hide that blasphemous corpse-city, R'lyeh.
“Once again, it has sunk beneath the ocean, curled and trapped beneath our reality. Its mad god silenced for now.
“With the Source of madness finally silenced for the first time in humanity's history, Mankind begin reaching for their true potential. My uncle Hiromitsu's vision of evolution towards a utopian future has become a possibility now. Hope reigns. Self-serving greed and paranoid protectionism has diminished. Our thin red political lines have been abandoned in face of this planetary threat, with the help, guidance, and encouragement of Sentinel and the UNCGSC.
“The UNCGSC plans contingencies for a war they know is inevitable with the eventual reclamation by the Great Old Ones. They believe they defeated Great Cthulhu. They are wrong. For whatever reasons, the time wasn't right... sadly, they do not realize this is a war they cannot win.
“But humanity is a beautiful species, and I love it. I can help them win some battles.
“The Great Old Ones had never given us a second thought. To these alien Gods, humanity was inconsequential; a weed that grew in their garden during their absence. But Nyarlathotep was the key to their undoing. He walked among us. He mingled with us. Humanity was never a threat... until now. They had never dreamed of the likes of me.
“My name is Tamara Gibbons, and I can hear the songs of the dead dreamer.”
Epilogue II: 1931
Exhibit 1273-B from Oxford, England's Investigation of MacKenzie Street Incident, 1987. Excerpts from personal diary of Donita de LaFontaine.
February 3rd, 1931:
“My daughter was born November 14th, 1930. I named my little princess Nadia.
“In light of my older sister's involvement with the Innsmouth cult and its apparent numerous international occult connections, I fear for my and my daughter's safety. I am no longer confident with the security of my ancestral home, Les Châteaux de Etienne-de-Lafontaine estate. Dark rumours persist of my entire family's commitment to these obscure cults.
“I have my own modest fortune. Modest from my family's point of view. Wealthy from the commoner's perspective.
“I have made arrangements for my beloved - the comatose Otto - to be returned to his hometown, Heidelberg, Germany. He will be committed to its sanitarium where he will be cared for until such time as he is of sound mind and body.
“But this is a decoy, a ruse, a misdirection. I have had travel documents forged to have any interested party misguided into believing I am accompanying him. If these cults pursue me and Nadia they will find our trail having gone cold in Heidelberg. It will appear that we have gone missing without a trace. The truth is, we were never really there.
“Thanks to my degree in musical theory I have contacts and connections with the Oxford Philharmonic Orchestra in England. I have already secured a professor's studio apartment on Mackenzie Street. Once better, Otto will join us there. It is my hope to raise our baby Nadia safely there, away from those cultist's searching eyes.
“She will be safe in Oxford, England.”
* * *
Otto Zann stared out the Heidelberg Asylum's window. He watched the sparkling Neckar River and listened to Wagner's opera from memory. He watched the river flow as he heard The Song of the Nebelungs in his mind. Sometimes the music could blanket out the other's voice. Sometimes.
The memory of the music made him cry. Not real tears, for he no longer had any control over his body; locked within, trapped, entombed with Nyarlathotep.
He sat impotently, his faded green eyes staring out the window blankly, comatose, as the monster's whispered insanities echoed down the corridors of his mind.
Glossary of Terms
Information collected through the Synchronicity Mandate, from the files of the UNCGSC
Gatesphere:
Necropolis: Book 5: R'lyeh Page 14