The Prometheus Effect

by David Fleming

  “Luck appears to be on our side, Commander. The base is deserted.”

  “So we pick her up and leave,” the commander said.

  “Not quite that easy. She’s buried under several feet of ice and snow.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We’re going to have to dig her out. Her service has earned her the right to proper handling of her remains.” Kyle chose not to mention the possibility that she might be revived. The possibility was still quite slim. Besides, a flying submarine was enough surprise to spring on the man for one day.

  After landing next to the furnished coordinates, Kyle sent a squad of men to check the vacant base for digging tools. They returned with enough picks and shovels for them to work in shifts.

  “This is going to take hours,” the commander said, shivering in the cold as he dug.

  “So be it,” Kyle said. “She’s coming with us.” He flung his pick angrily into the frozen ground.

  ***

  It didn’t take hours. It took an entire day. The men could only work short intervals in the extreme cold. They kept up a continuous rotation between digging and warming themselves. No one complained. The commander developed a new respect for his crew.

  They finally reached the woman’s body in an air pocket created by a large slab of ice. She had been shot in the chest; red-tinged frost marked areas of frozen blood. To the commander’s surprise, she wore what looked like a stripper outfit. Her arms were tucked in close to her body, with her hands covering her face.

  The XO called for blankets and a body bag.

  With great reverence, the commander helped Kyle roll the frozen body into a blanket, which they then slid into a thick, zippered bag. The icy tears on his XO’s face told him all he needed to know: she may have died in the service to her country, but she meant something much more to him.

  Six men, with Kyle and the commander leading, carried the woman’s body past saluting men and up a ramp into the flying ship. They made a space for her in the coldest part of the walk-in freezer.

  The commander placed a hand on Kyle’s back. “I’m sorry, son,” he said.

  “Let’s take her home,” Kyle replied.

  When they were both back at the ship’s control station, a fireball began streaking through the upper atmosphere.

  “I’ve never seen one that big before,” the commander said.

  “It’s time to go. We don’t want to be here when the other one impacts.”

  CHAPTER 84

  The submarine’s infirmary had been a five-star accommodation compared to the Chinese aircraft carrier’s brig. All Sebastian had for amenities were a woven grass mat and an open bucket for bodily waste. The brig certainly incented him to keep out of its confines.

  A clanging of the cross bolt on his cell announced the arrival of a visitor.

  The deputy minister spoke from behind two guards framing the door opening. “We have found the entrance to your cavern. An underwater drone confirms no mines or traps, and the air inside is breathable. You will now accompany us to the artifact.”

  Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief. As long as the artifact remained inside, he would be back on top in the realm of power brokers.

  “Were there signs of anyone inside?” he asked.

  “We detected artificial lighting. That is all.”

  Sebastian nodded and fell in step between the guards.

  They moved down through the decks until they arrived at an opening in the side of the ship. A temporary gangway had been put in place, its bottom edge scraping the top of one of their smaller attack submarines, bobbing on the waves. Sebastian smiled inside at seeing the admiral already on deck. It took a lot to get an admiral to leave his ship. They believed him now.

  Sebastian enjoyed much better accommodations for this trip: they permitted him to stand in the control room, as long as he kept out of the way. A strike force of elite Chinese commandos rode the outer deck of the submarine with special breathing gear. Their orders were to neutralize any threat as the submarine surfaced, and then secure the immediate area. Sebastian’s anticipation bubbled wildly.

  Much to his dismay, his traveling companions chose not to speak any more English once they submerged. He would have liked to have known their thoughts.

  Soon, scrabbling noises filtering through the hull from the upper deck told Sebastian that they had surfaced again. They must be inside now.

  The muzzle of an automatic rifle directed him to the deck hatch. He hoped this would be the last time anybody pointed a weapon at him. Once they saw the artifact, they would show him the respect he deserved.

  The deputy minister and admiral ordered him to precede them out the hatch. Their faces were more wary than respectful. Sebastian understood; if anyone was going to get shot at, they wanted it to be him.

  Dank air hit him as he crawled through the hatch. Commandos ringed the upper platform. Without waiting for the others to emerge, Sebastian climbed the ladder to get a glimpse of the outer vault. To his surprise and dismay, the door stood open. Not by much, but it was definitely open. If the artifact had been removed, he would never leave this place alive.

  The admiral and deputy minister came to his side.

  “Lead the way, Mr. Falstano,” the deputy minister said, his words heavy with skepticism. Perhaps he too saw the open door as a bad omen.

  It could be a trap as well, thought Sebastian. He carefully judged where he stepped, and he tried not to cringe when turning on the same light switches he remembered the woman using. They walked past the hydraulic lifts holding the concrete block ceiling in place. Relief flooded him at the realization that he wouldn’t have to endure the acoustical trauma of their lifting noise. However, he was unsettled to not know how the ceiling remained in the up position—and whether it would stay that way.

  Sebastian’s heart leapt at seeing the circular hatch to the artifact chamber. It was closed! Please let it be unlocked. With his entourage of armed guards and Chinese leadership, he turned the wheel… and pulled.

  The door opened to the most beautiful sight he could have wished for. On a short pedestal in the dark interior, a swatch of thin white cloth lay draped over a glowing sphere. He located the flashlight and ducked through the opening. How he longed to get another look at this marvel from another world.

  “Stop where you are, Mr. Falstano,” said the deputy minister. “Step away from the artifact.”

  Sebastian stepped aside with the graciousness of a dinner host, indicating for his guests to see for themselves. Let them see and be humbled. He pointed the flashlight beam at the ceiling to light the area. Being smaller in stature, the admiral and deputy minister had no need to duck as they entered.

  With great caution, the deputy minister lifted two corners of the cloth. He dropped it to the ground behind him. Both men hunched over to gaze into the translucent, glowing sphere. Their expressions turned rapturous.

  In rapid-fire Chinese, the two men argued. Then, boldly, the admiral lifted the sphere off the pedestal to examine it more closely. Sebastian held his breath. He had not seen anyone physically touch it yet, and he had no idea how it might affect the artifact—or the person holding it. The admiral lifted it close to his face while slowly rotating it in his hands.

  Suddenly, he stopped and clenched his jaw. Without saying a word, he held the artifact out to the deputy minister, indicating a spot on its surface. The deputy minister examined the spot. His eyes went wide, and he turned away in disgust and strode right to the door.

  What just happened? What did he see?

  With a savage grin, the admiral threw the artifact at Sebastian’s feet. It hit the rough floor with a crunch. Sebastian reflexively grabbed it to keep it from hitting the wall and getting damaged further. The admiral gave a backhanded wave, joined the deputy minister, and the two men left the chamber. To Sebastian’s horror, they closed the hatch and spun the wheel, locking him inside.

  As soon as the wheel came to a stop, the ground jolted sharply. A thund
ering impact came from the other side of the hatch, so powerful that it threw him off his feet. This could mean only be one thing: the deputy minister and admiral had been crushed by the falling ceiling.

  In a panic, Sebastian lunged toward the hatch and tried turning the wheel. It didn’t budge. The circular walls of his tomb threatened to crush his sanity.

  Fear welled up in Sebastian’s mind. Why had the two men reacted so? Desperately, he began examining the sphere’s surface with the flashlight. And he saw it. He understood.

  On the bottom, where the sphere had contacted the pedestal, was a tiny inscription: Made in China.

  Sebastian screamed.

  He tried to make sense of the series of events that had led him here. Clearly, it had all been an elaborate ruse—but to what end? To kill the admiral and deputy minister? No. Couldn’t be. They were expendable pawns in the Chinese power matrix. To kill… me? Sebastian felt a speck of self-importance. But no. As much as the thought pleased his fragile ego, it was impossibly farfetched.

  When did this start? When did they lead me down this path? He had no answers. They hadn’t even given him the dignity of understanding. He seethed. He wanted to kill whoever had done this to him. He wished upon them the most horrible death imaginable.

  The light of the flashlight flickered and dimmed. He tapped it and edged closer to the glowing sphere for comfort.

  Before the flashlight died completely, a soft click came from the pedestal. Concentric rings of bright light circled the low domed ceiling, surrounding a pinpoint of light just above the pedestal. Then a door in the side of the pedestal swung open to reveal a hollow interior. Sebastian hurried over. Behind the door he found a bottle of water, some peanut butter crackers, and a handwritten letter.

  Sebastian grabbed the letter and read.

  Mr. Falstano,

  Thank you.

  Only someone of your expert talents could have made this mission a success. Your actions may well have saved humanity and the planet it inhabits.

  Sebastian blinked. Did one of the light rings just go out? He couldn’t be certain. Munching on a cracker, he continued to read.

  Your contributions to society will be remembered for generations. Children of the future will learn of, and be influenced by, your life choices. You are to be commended for volunteering for this mission. All suicide missions require a willing volunteer.

  Sebastian spluttered cracker crumbs everywhere. Suicide mission? When the hell did I volunteer for that?

  He took a swig of water. A muffled boom reverberated through his manmade cave. The commandos were attempting to blast their way in. He knew it would take weeks—and he would die of dehydration long before that.

  He took another drink. No sense rationing it.

  If you’re looking for someone to blame for your current accommodations, look no further than yourself. You were not coerced or ordered in any way. You were merely presented opportunities. At any time, you could have chosen differently. Any shred of honor or decency would have disqualified you from this mission and sent you down another track. Your own choices brought you to our attention—and eventually to this place, this tomb.

  Cheating on your college entry exams started you on this path. Your eagerness to covet an unearned and unlearned education kept you on it. Murdering an innocent student to protect your lies paved the way. Do not say that you are now surprised at the consequences of your actions. Stupid, you are not. Ignorance and lies have brought you to face judgment before the blade of truth.

  You sought information to gain power over people. Here is the intelligence update most pertinent to you now: China has altered the trajectory of three asteroids so that they will hit this planet. Two will miss. The third will strike the island where you are now trapped. When the last point of light above you goes out, you will have sixty seconds before the asteroid impacts at seventy thousand miles per hour. No more opportunities remain available to you. Your choices have sealed your fate.

  Truly

  —Jack

  Another ring went out, followed by the muted sound of a distant explosion. Death approached Sebastian on two fronts. At least no one would shoot him this time. Then again, an asteroid was just another projectile, far larger and traveling faster than any bullet.

  Jack was right. He had brought this on himself. He had wished to kill the person who had done this to him. Some wishes come true.

  ***

  Sebastian closed his eyes and concentrated on the glowing afterimage of a pinpoint of light that had just gone out. He curled into a fetal position and made wish after wish in hopes that one would come true.

  Unfortunately, the truth cannot be wished away.

  CHAPTER 85

  Back in the solitude of his room, Mykl watched the recovery of his mother’s body through the weirdly shaped submarine’s external cameras. He wanted to watch until they delivered her back to the City, but the appearance of three asteroids burning their way through the atmosphere heralded a whole new set of problems.

  The first two asteroids broke into several spectacular fireballs as they flew deeper into the atmosphere. The pieces skipped into the cold oblivion of space without ever touching the planet.

  The largest asteroid was over three kilometers wide and its projected impact area was unthinkable. He bounded over to his globe-filled wall and pulled up the live image from a City satellite.

  A black shape began blocking stars at the top of his visual feed. It didn’t look to be traveling all that fast as it tumbled toward the Earth. Its leading edge began to glow. Jack had said he couldn’t keep China from succeeding indefinitely without them becoming suspicious and resorting to more direct measures, and it looked like Jack was now allowing China to have their way.

  The glow intensified and transformed to a white-hot dot as the asteroid entered the lower atmosphere. From the comfort of his vantage point on the moon, the impact was almost anticlimactic.

  Then the post-impact fireball began to grow.

  Mykl zoomed in. The radiant fireball had already engulfed numerous nearby ships. When it finally began to dissipate, a twenty-mile-wide swath of glowing sea floor, seven miles deep, bled molten rock like a fresh wound. Another twenty miles beyond that, the surface of the ocean boiled. Tsunami waves raced outward as if attempting to escape the cataclysmic event that bore them. How many people had Jack allowed to die? A hundred thousand? A million? More?

  Then Mykl remembered that these asteroids had been altered from their original courses and impact areas. How many people had been spared in comparison? It couldn’t have been an easy choice to make.

  And if Jack hadn’t neutralized the virus on that asteroid, the Earth would now be experiencing an extinction-level event like the dinosaurs. Come to think of it, that virus was very likely the culprit that had caused their extinction as well. China had gambled with ending the human race, if not all life on the planet. What were a few million lives compared to that?

  Mykl brought up a feed from a non-City satellite. Random static filled his screen. He tried others. All dead. Every last non-City satellite had ceased to function. Communications, navigation, weather, research, military…

  Wait. Militaries without satellites were virtually blind. The lack of access to satellite data would cripple everyone’s ability to launch strikes against their foes.

  Mykl checked the Chinese orbital weapon platforms. They, too, drifted dead in space. It was too coincidental. Mykl was suddenly certain that Jack used the asteroids as an excuse to kill every satellite and launching station in orbit. Sending up replacements would take weeks if not longer. Good thing they abandoned the space station long ago.

  Updates began flowing into the open Operations file. China had lost seventy-five percent of its naval fleet from the impact, including ninety percent of its submarines. Russia lost less, but their position as a superpower was severely weakened. North Korea had only minutes before the tsunami decimated every significant warship in its fleet. More unlikely coincidences? No.
Jack had somehow influenced those fleets to be in the impact area. Those fleets would take years, if not decades, to rebuild.

  Leaning back in his chair, Mykl understood that the world rotated as a safer place—for now. A major asteroid impact had just occurred, and countries would want to sit tight and evaluate potential post-impact issues. Without satellites, that would be a daunting task. China and Russia dared not instigate anything militarily with their weakened navies, and their intercontinental ballistic missile targeting would be down without satellites.

  Sure, people would be without their up-to-the-minute news and entertainment—but they were safer now than they had been in decades.

  Mykl knew it couldn’t last. Eventually they would replace the damaged satellites. Probably the space weapons as well. And if the world discovered China’s involvement in directing the asteroid, severe repercussions would follow. Or others might attempt to tame asteroids for their own nefarious purposes. No, this wasn’t a final solution to the problem.

  Is that why Jack put this on me? This series of incidents had bought him time—that was all.

  The possibility existed—Mykl had entertained the thought before—that an impactful event such as this could bring everyone together in unity. Perhaps the world would now dismiss their petty differences for the good of all. But such possibilities functioned like wishes: they hardly ever worked out the way you wanted. A true solution needed to be predictable. And that required complete control over the problem.

  Noah leapt onto Mykl’s desk from his perch at the window. His head poked through a square of toilet paper, fluttering behind him like a cape. He surveyed Mykl’s desk as if he was searching for something. Apparently not finding it, he launched himself to the bed. Mykl wondered if he had any mouse friends or children of his own. Being the pioneer for the modified virus studies, he, too, probably lacked the ability to have children, like Jack—