Beyond Hades (The Prometheus Wars)

by Luke Romyn

  “Thomas? How?”

  The captain shook his head. “Damned if I know. He screamed at us to get out of there, and then started chanting in that strange language. Whatever he was saying, Cerberus was distracted long enough for us to retreat. Only four men made it back to the rift. Your brother wasn’t one of them.”

  “So you left him behind?” demanded Talbot.

  “We thought he was with us, sir, I swear it. Nobody realized until we were back at the rift. And then we heard the scream.”

  “What scream?”

  “At first I didn’t even recognize it as human, but it was definitely your brother. The ground began to quake, and we escaped back through the rift. It’s not something I’m proud of.”

  Talbot rose ponderously from the table, gazing down at the captain with measured disdain.

  “So,” he intoned, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion, “my brother is dead because you ran away and abandoned him.”

  He stalked off toward the front of the cabin, leaving Chuck alone, a hollow burning gnawing within him.

  CHAPTER 3

  The thermo-carrier began to slow and Talbot snapped to attention. Were they there, or had something else happened? Without windows in the main cabin, it was impossible to see what was going on outside. He felt hesitant to approach the cockpit; he didn’t want to pass so many accusing stares again.

  “Time to go, sir,” said Captain Benedict and Talbot jumped slightly. They hadn’t spoken since the captain had told him about his brother, and he felt unsure of how to proceed.

  Captain Benedict suffered no such difficulty, it seemed. He casually shouldered his M-16 and motioned for Talbot to follow him. Talbot rose, attempting to conceal his apprehension as they moved toward the rear door, avoiding the glances of the rest of the passengers.

  Once the carrier came to a complete stop, Captain Benedict hit a button beside the door, causing it to slide open, a ramp dropping down to seamlessly integrate with the docking platform.

  Talbot followed the captain down the ramp, gazing around at their new location. This docking station – once again apparently deep underground –appeared almost identical to the one in Quantico... minus an enormous, rampaging, one-eyed monster from Greek legend. Several squads of troops marched into the immense landing-bay, hastily surrounding Captain Benedict and Talbot. It was only then that Talbot realized no one else was disembarking the thermo-carrier.

  “Why isn’t anyone else getting off?” he asked the captain.

  Captain Benedict looked slightly uncomfortable at the question, but his stride didn’t falter. “They’re waiting to see if any creatures break through to try and kill you again,” he stated mechanically.

  Talbot fearfully glanced around the bay, trepidation creeping into his joints, freezing them up, making the simplest of movements near impossible. Nothing moved, apart from the marines forming a protective knot around them.

  “Captain Benedict,” called one of the marines with a brisk salute. “Sergeant Major William Harris. Welcome to Senegal.”

  Captain Benedict returned the salute.

  Talbot’s mind reeled. Senegal? They’d travelled from Virginia to Western Africa, a distance of almost four-thousand miles, in less than four hours! He’d known they were travelling fast, but that was damn fast.

  Another part of Talbot’s brain wondered how the United States Government had managed to build a base like this, a structure so immense, virtually replicating the underground station at Quantico, beneath the surface of a foreign nation. Politics aside, something serious had to be going on for nations to cooperate on this level, either that, or both countries stood to gain financially from what was going on.

  The idea tasted bitter in Talbot’s mind, probably because it had an element of truth to it. He’d heard somewhere that Senegal had one of the fastest growing economies in the world following a major change back in the late nineties. Perhaps an unexpected boost in monetary funds from the United States in order to allow the access to create Base Bravo? He would only ever be able to speculate, but such a thing gnawed at him, making Talbot uneasy.

  “How is the situation here, Sergeant Major?” asked the captain.

  “Better than what we heard you guys have been through, although there has been increased activity from beyond the rift. Things slowed down after Thomas....” He glanced at Talbot who returned the man’s stare evenly until the Sergeant Major dropped his gaze. Something wasn’t right here; these people seemed to be hiding more than just the nature of Thomas’s death.

  Talbot and Captain Benedict were escorted through the doors at the end of the docking bay and into a control room. A very serious marine with three stars on his lapels approached them and Captain Benedict snapped to attention, saluting briskly.

  “Lieutenant General Walsh,” he said as the man returned his salute. “Let me introduce you to Doctor Talbot Harrison.” He indicated Talbot who stepped forward hesitantly and extended his hand.

  The Lieutenant General merely glanced at the proffered hand, not moving to shake it, and Talbot slowly lowered it.

  “I expect all hell will soon break loose in my base, now you’re here.” The Lieutenant General’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re worth it.”

  Turning to Captain Benedict, he said, “Welcome to Base Bravo, Captain, we have been updated on what happened at Alpha.”

  “Did they control the situation sir?”

  “No. The cyclops unintentionally released several other captive beasts during its rampage. We lost all communication about an hour ago.”

  “Damn,” muttered Captain Benedict.

  “General Sharpe and several key personnel were able to escape. He sent word he’ll meet up with you later.”

  “Yes sir. The general gave me orders to bring the doctor to meet with Professor Weinstein,” said Captain Benedict.

  “Of course he did,” grunted the lieutenant general. “That nut just keeps getting worse each day. Don’t expect too much coherence from him, Captain. He’s so far gone I don’t think he’ll ever return to the realm of sanity.”

  “Yes sir. Is he in the labs?”

  “Of course,” said the lieutenant general. “He never leaves them these days, crazy egghead that he is. I’m sure he and the Doctor here will get along famously. Dismissed.”

  Captain Benedict saluted once more before turning and motioning for Talbot to follow him again. As they moved through the room toward the elevator, Talbot felt several sets of eyes staring at him, his ears pricking at the murmuring of secrets. The words of the thermo-carrier controller came back to him – “We know who you are, Doctor Harrison. Everyone here does. At this point in time you’re quite possibly the most important person on the planet.”

  – and he felt the momentous pressure of expectation bearing down upon him like a collapsing mountain.

  These people counted on him to be some sort of miracle worker. But if Thomas couldn’t fix this thing, how the hell was he supposed to? Talbot was an archaeologist, not some Indiana Jones-styled adventure seeker.

  Indiana Jones was an archaeologist. He pushed the thought away.

  The elevator doors opened and he and Benedict stepped inside. The captain chose a button, and the elevator swiftly dropped.

  They seemed to descend forever. Since the entire episode had begun that morning, Talbot had constantly been dropping deeper into the Earth. Maybe it was some giant cosmic metaphor for where he would end up.

  Hell.

  Tartarus.

  Captain Benedict held the impression the place they’d gone with his brother was Hades. He hadn’t even known what Tartarus was, and Talbot hadn’t corrected him. The soldiers would only have been briefed on things they needed to know, and if Thomas hadn’t informed them, then neither would Talbot. But he knew the truth; General Sharpe had told him where the rift led. Tartarus held the evil creations from Greek mythology, condemned to dwell there for eternity by the gods. Talbot wished it were Hades they were talking about; it inspired slightly
less mind-numbing terror.

  Slightly.

  Whether you wanted to call it Tartarus or Hell, in Talbot’s mind both places were identical. Each served as a final destination for creatures which had transgressed during their mortal existence. True, Tartarus’s mythical beasts belonged nowhere near the Biblical Hell, but the concept was identical: a place for evil to reside when it left the world of men. If such a realm truly existed, as these people believed, what kinds of horrors were yet to emerge?

  The elevator stopped and the men stepped into a bright corridor. Glass walls stretched on either side of the walkway and Talbot glimpsed scientists within open laboratories frenetically scribbling away at pages, studying creatures similar to those on the thermo-carrier, peering at their monitors in hopes some answer might leap out and grab them by the proverbial testicles.

  Captain Benedict led Talbot to the far end of the glass hall. He swiped his security card, and the two entered. Across the room, staring intensely into an electron microscope and chatting riotously to himself, was a wild-haired man of around fifty years of age. Talbot paused. The man’s instability suggested someone pushed far beyond the bounds of normal sanity, plunged into the fractal existence of lunacy.

  “Good afternoon, Professor,” said Captain Benedict cautiously.

  The wild-haired man snapped upright, almost knocking the microscope over in his haste. “What are you?” he squawked.

  “It’s me,” said Captain Benedict slowly, enunciating carefully. “Chuck Benedict.”

  The professor clicked his tongue. “I didn’t ask who you were,” he admonished. “I asked what you are.”

  Captain Benedict looked confused. “I’m a marine... a person.”

  The professor nodded. “Just as I suspected,” he muttered, reversing the motion and shaking his head.

  “What do you mean, Professor?” asked the captain.

  “The dylotherean disposition of this viscous solution is obsolete,” he muttered, waving his hand at the microscope. “I shall have to get another.”

  Captain Benedict glanced worriedly at Talbot. “Professor, this is Thomas’s brother, Talbot. He’s here to help us close the rift.”

  “Close the rift? Now why would we want to do that, you damn fool? We can live forever if we keep it open. Look at me. Not bad for fifty years old, eh? I’m half the age I was when we opened that wonderful artifact. It’s the fountain of youth!”

  “Yes Professor,” agreed the captain, giving Talbot a look that told him to hold his tongue against the professor’s irrational claims. “You’re looking younger each day, but the beasts keep getting past our defenses. Soon they’ll break through completely, and we’ll all die.”

  “A small price to pay for youthfulness.”

  Captain Benedict prepared to argue the point further when the professor burst out laughing. “You should see the look on your face, Chuck,” he chortled, smoothing his hair as he did. “You look just like the rest of them.”

  Confusion etched Captain Benedict’s face. “What’s going on?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Those assholes,” said the professor, motioning absently at the other labs. “They were harassing me so much I couldn’t get anything done. Smartest minds in the world my ass. I just started acting crazier than usual, and they retreated somewhat, leaving me alone. The only problem was I had to do it with everyone, lest they catch wind of it. Sorry, Chuck, I couldn’t resist playing a joke on you – but don’t tell anyone else I’m not nuts.”

  The hint of a smile rose on the Captain’s face, but soon hardened. “People are dying out there, Professor. Good men are being killed, and you’re annoyed at being interrupted?”

  The professor sobered instantly. “Every interruption slows my progress,” he retorted. “And such delays could doom us all. Regardless, I am sorry for making light of it.”

  Captain Benedict nodded. “Like I said before, this is Doctor Talbot Harrison.”

  The professor stepped over to Talbot and shook his hand. “And you can read the language?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Excellent.” Gone was the lunatic of moments before. Now a legitimate man of science seemed to be standing before Talbot. He still glanced about furtively from time to time, but Talbot assumed he’d been acting crazy for so long it was more habit than true paranoia.

  “The rift is becoming more and more unstable,” the professor explained. “Larger beasts are tearing through and soon it will open completely, merging our two realms.”

  “What?” blurted Talbot. “Bigger than that cyclops?”

  Weinstein glanced at Captain Benedict, alarm flaring across his features.

  “The cyclops broke free of containment,” said the captain. “Base Alpha is now off the grid,”

  “Oh dear,” murmured Professor Weinstein. His gaze returned to Talbot. “In response to your question, there are indeed much bigger and more terrifying things on the other side of that accursed rift. You have no idea how terrifying. Greek mythology merely scraped the surface.”

  “Like what?” asked Talbot.

  Captain Benedict interjected before the professor could answer. “Now isn’t the time to discuss such things, Doctor. We have work to do.” He turned to the professor. “How long until the rift opens completely?”

  “A week... maybe two at the most,” he answered.

  “Then we have to get moving. Any advice before we go?”

  “I’ve uploaded a complete dossier with all my notes to your shipboard computer. Hopefully it will prove to be of assistance.”

  “I’m sure it will, Professor,” said Captain Benedict, shaking the man’s hand briskly before moving to the far door.

  Talbot hesitated before following. Why had they travelled around – or through – the planet just to have a five minute conversation?

  He hustled after Captain Benedict down a corridor leading from the opposite side of the professor’s lab, and they soon arrived at a set of double-reinforced steel doors. Once more the captain swiped his card.

  Heavy booming noises from within the solid concrete surrounding the thickly-plated doors – the sounds of massive bolts being retracted. Finally the steel entry lifted....

  A submarine, perhaps the length of a football-field, sat in dry-dock within a cavern similar to the thermo-carrier station. Enormous struts held the huge vessel aloft, beside a quivering, black pool. The sub’s ramps were abuzz with crew moving rapidly about their tasks.

  The sprawling dry-dock seemed consumed with activity. Steel doors sealed one entire wall – Talbot assumed they restrained a flood of water, perhaps the ocean itself. Thick girders supported the phenomenal vessel while engineers and crew finalized whatever work they were doing around the hull.

  “Holy shit,” murmured Talbot.

  Captain Benedict glanced at him and chuckled. “She does have that effect when you first set eyes upon her.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a submarine,” answered the captain as they kept walking. Talbot shot him a withering glare. “She’s called Arkhangelsk - or Archangel in English. She’s an Mk941-U SSBN Russian Akula-class Typhoon; the world’s largest nuclear powered submarine. 564 feet long, 74.8 feet wide and weighing in at about fifty thousand tons. It’s one of the quietest submarines in the world, which will help us.”

  “Why is the United States using a Russian sub?”

  The captain gave him a sideways glance. “We may need the biggest in order to arrive at our destination. The Russians seemed to think so as well, and decided to lend us one when their spies got wind of what was going on. There are also several modifications which might help us on our trip.”

  “Modifications?” asked Talbot.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details, Doctor. For now all you need to know is she’s our transport,” answered Captain Benedict.

  “Why do you keep referring to a machine as ‘she’?” asked Talbot.

  “Because she’s a bitch.”

  “Oh,” replied
Talbot, unsure of how to respond to such bluntness. “What’s out there, Chuck? And don’t give me that ‘classified’ crap.”

  The captain paused. “There are things on the other side of the rift which make the cyclops seem like a puppy. Some of them have already gotten through.”

  “I’ve already heard about the puppy you encountered. I don’t want anything to do with all this!”

  “Unfortunately, you don’t have any choice in the matter,” Captain Benedict mused sadly. “These things will find you, no matter where you hide. And they will destroy you before tearing the human race apart.”

  Talbot fell silent, feeling close to breaking.

  “The best-case scenario is for you to help us with getting this thing closed.”

  Talbot looked up. “But what about the things already here?”

  “Professor Weinstein believes that once we close the rift, their connection to this world will be severed, and they will either be drawn back or die.”

  “I hope so,” murmured Talbot, resuming his walk toward the leviathan vessel.

  “We all do,” he heard the captain murmur.

  ***

  Klaxon horns blared through the ship’s bridge and all hatches on the massive Typhoon were secured and double checked. When the all-clear was sounded, the commander nodded silently, and Talbot saw several radio operators chattering into their headsets.

  “You may want to hold on, Doctor Harrison,” said Captain Benedict. “This might get a bit unstable.”

  Talbot gripped the railing next to him tightly just as a thunderous booming rose from the exterior of the submarine’s hull.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, painfully aware of the high pitch of his voice.

  “They’re flooding the dock,” replied Captain Benedict calmly.

  It made sense; they had to get the sub into water, but why was it making such a loud noise?

  The answer hit him like a salmon wielded by a drunken Icelandic fisherman. They were below sea-level. Well below. The entire Atlantic Ocean was on the other side of the massive dry-dock gates!