Read Online Beyond Hades: The Prometheus Wars by Luke Romyn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Luke Romyn
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checked him for injuries. The doctor bore a deep bruise on his temple, but otherwise seemed okay. He gently roused him.
"What happened?" groaned Talbot.
"I'm not sure," answered Chuck. "I think the Hydra might have attacked us with some sort of sonic resonation."
"That wasn't in the stories," muttered Talbot. "Where are we and why is the ship tilted?"
"Let's find out," said Chuck, moving to the external camera's control console as several other members of the crew began to regain consciousness.
He brought up the picture on the plasma screen. Talbot gasped in shock. A beautiful beach stretched before them, angled at an obscure point of view.
They'd been thrown out of the ocean. The world's largest submersible vessel had been flung away like a child's toy.
"Oh crap," muttered Chuck.
The Commander of the sub was sitting up, staring at the impossible scene on the screen. He swiftly regained his composure and ordered the crew to bring up a satellite position for the Typhoon. Several crew limped to comply, and Chuck translated the order for the bewildered doctor.
"I didn't know you could speak Russian," said Talbot.
Chuck offered a rare smile. "Considering you've only known me for about a day, Doctor, I'm sure there's a lot you don't know about me."
Talbot grinned sheepishly and turned toward the plasma screen once more. Chuck followed his gaze and saw the external camera had been replaced with a GPS map of the world. A tiny blipping dot flashed just off the west coast of Senegal. The Commander ordered it to be zoomed in.
The scene enlarged, and Chuck was soon staring at an island not far from where they were hoping to go. Not far at all.
"Communications," called Chuck in Russian. Two operators glanced around at him. "Send out a distress signal on channel 724 to Colonel Bremond. Give him our location."
The crew moved to comply, but not before Chuck registered a flicker of irritation in the Russian commander's features. Apparently he didn't appreciate someone else giving orders on his ship. As far as Chuck was concerned, he could go to Hell....
He grinned humorlessly at the irony of the thought.
***
Chuck, Talbot and the crew of the Arkhangelskdisembarked the stricken vessel and gathered loosely on the beach. Four crewmembers had sustained serious cuts and broken bones in the attack, but otherwise the injuries were relatively minor.
Chuck shadowed Doctor Harrison, his M-16A4 at the ready, while they awaited rescue. The island they were on was part of the group Atlantis had supposedly been attached to before its destruction, and as such was very close to the underwater dimensional rift. Anything could be here.
The first hour passed without event, but early into the second, a deep rumbling could be felt emanating from beneath the sand of the beach.
"Defensive positions!" called Captain Benedict. Perhaps a hundred Russian crewmembers, armed with AK-47s and Czech CZ.75 pistols, created a perimeter around the rest of the group. Chuck hoped they knew how to use them.
The rumbling intensified, and Chuck swiftly glanced back at the doctor. The man had looked perpetually terrified since they had first met, but now he seemed strangely calm. Perhaps he'd grown accustomed to the continual assaults by creatures from myth.
Suddenly, the ground erupted to their left. Chuck caught the briefest glimpse of what appeared to be a rust-colored crab's claw emerging from beneath the sand, before it disappeared once more. The Russian closest to it tipped sideways, almost in slow motion, and as his body hit the ground it split into two sections, neatly severed through his mid-torso, blood spraying everywhere.
Chuck hurriedly glanced at the sand beneath his own feet. "Move to solid ground over there!" he shouted, motioning toward the much rockier terrain near the base of a sheer cliff.
The position couldn't have been worse from a defensive point of view. With the cliff behind them, they had no route for escape, but Chuck had no
"What happened?" groaned Talbot.
"I'm not sure," answered Chuck. "I think the Hydra might have attacked us with some sort of sonic resonation."
"That wasn't in the stories," muttered Talbot. "Where are we and why is the ship tilted?"
"Let's find out," said Chuck, moving to the external camera's control console as several other members of the crew began to regain consciousness.
He brought up the picture on the plasma screen. Talbot gasped in shock. A beautiful beach stretched before them, angled at an obscure point of view.
They'd been thrown out of the ocean. The world's largest submersible vessel had been flung away like a child's toy.
"Oh crap," muttered Chuck.
The Commander of the sub was sitting up, staring at the impossible scene on the screen. He swiftly regained his composure and ordered the crew to bring up a satellite position for the Typhoon. Several crew limped to comply, and Chuck translated the order for the bewildered doctor.
"I didn't know you could speak Russian," said Talbot.
Chuck offered a rare smile. "Considering you've only known me for about a day, Doctor, I'm sure there's a lot you don't know about me."
Talbot grinned sheepishly and turned toward the plasma screen once more. Chuck followed his gaze and saw the external camera had been replaced with a GPS map of the world. A tiny blipping dot flashed just off the west coast of Senegal. The Commander ordered it to be zoomed in.
The scene enlarged, and Chuck was soon staring at an island not far from where they were hoping to go. Not far at all.
"Communications," called Chuck in Russian. Two operators glanced around at him. "Send out a distress signal on channel 724 to Colonel Bremond. Give him our location."
The crew moved to comply, but not before Chuck registered a flicker of irritation in the Russian commander's features. Apparently he didn't appreciate someone else giving orders on his ship. As far as Chuck was concerned, he could go to Hell....
He grinned humorlessly at the irony of the thought.
***
Chuck, Talbot and the crew of the Arkhangelskdisembarked the stricken vessel and gathered loosely on the beach. Four crewmembers had sustained serious cuts and broken bones in the attack, but otherwise the injuries were relatively minor.
Chuck shadowed Doctor Harrison, his M-16A4 at the ready, while they awaited rescue. The island they were on was part of the group Atlantis had supposedly been attached to before its destruction, and as such was very close to the underwater dimensional rift. Anything could be here.
The first hour passed without event, but early into the second, a deep rumbling could be felt emanating from beneath the sand of the beach.
"Defensive positions!" called Captain Benedict. Perhaps a hundred Russian crewmembers, armed with AK-47s and Czech CZ.75 pistols, created a perimeter around the rest of the group. Chuck hoped they knew how to use them.
The rumbling intensified, and Chuck swiftly glanced back at the doctor. The man had looked perpetually terrified since they had first met, but now he seemed strangely calm. Perhaps he'd grown accustomed to the continual assaults by creatures from myth.
Suddenly, the ground erupted to their left. Chuck caught the briefest glimpse of what appeared to be a rust-colored crab's claw emerging from beneath the sand, before it disappeared once more. The Russian closest to it tipped sideways, almost in slow motion, and as his body hit the ground it split into two sections, neatly severed through his mid-torso, blood spraying everywhere.
Chuck hurriedly glanced at the sand beneath his own feet. "Move to solid ground over there!" he shouted, motioning toward the much rockier terrain near the base of a sheer cliff.
The position couldn't have been worse from a defensive point of view. With the cliff behind them, they had no route for escape, but Chuck had no
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