by Luke Romyn
True to his word, Wes banked the ship sharply, and the ground rushed up toward them. The craft landed silently, not raising so much as a grain of the orange sand. Amazing.
The PCM suddenly swirled away and released him, causing Talbot to stagger and fall lightly to the floor.
Wes's laughter filled the cabin. "Yeah, she has that effect on ya', that's for sure," he said, stepping away from his own PCM.
Talbot scrambled up off the floor, forming a retort, but was forestalled as Wes held up a hand. "We've got no time for posturing, Doc. Even though that trip took bugger all time, we still have to get in there and stop this thing. If what I heard about things on the other side of that rift thingy is true, time means fuck all, but it's still ticking. So we got about two hours of our time to fix shit. Let's go."
The solidness of the hull swirled, the exit hatch appearing in its side once again. Wes placed his hand on the wall, and a storage space appeared. He grabbed a pack, looping it lightly over his shoulders, and exited the vehicle, Talbot following. A ramp had formed this time, and they moved down it silently to the desert floor.
Arriving at the bottom of the ramp, Talbot raised his gaze and saw it. Towering and rust-hued like the surrounding desert, Ayers Rock - or Uluru as it was called by the Anagu tribe, - stood out starkly on the predominantly flat landscape. He swung his gaze back in time to see Wes push his hand against the hull of the ship, which abruptly swirled and changed into a septic truck once more.
"I broke it when I crashed into the aircraft carrier," said Wes with a shrug. "At least it looks less conspicuous like this."
"Yeah," replied Talbot. "I'm sure they get New York septic trucks out here in the Australian desert all the time.
Wes grinned. "Looks like you're starting to harden up a bit there, Spongebob. The guy you were when I first met you would have pissed himself before being a smart arse like that."
"Whatever. Can we get going? What's in that bag?"
"Nothing exciting, unfortunately. It's just something to stop us from starving to death if things turn sideways, as they tend to do. "
"Why didn't we bring more troops?"
"They couldn't fit in the bag." Wes chuckled. "Besides, there're only two PCM units on the ship. People can't survive the trip without one. And we can't trust involving anyone but our own people, so we can't enlist the help of the Aussies. So you're stuck with yours truly, cupcake. Lucky you, eh?"
Talbot nodded absently, wondering how the two of them could possibly succeed where an entire platoon had been decimated during the last venture into Tartarus. Despite Wes's confidence and obvious skill, he was still only human.
Suddenly a hideous screech filled the air, and Talbot felt his heart lurch. He knew that sound, would never forget it.
It was the gryphon....
With an amazing amount of grace for something so large, the gryphon swooped in like a huge, elephant-sized hawk, hurtling straight toward the only thing besides the two men which could possibly be perceived as a target -
The septic-truck-spaceship.
"Run!" yelled Wes. "Bessie will take care of that fucker!"
Talbot was about to ask what he meant when he remembered something about the ship. It was sentient: conscious of its environment. Through artificial intelligence or some other means, the ship knew what was going on and could react to it.
He ran, bolting away right behind Wes when a piercing shriek rose above them, sounding somehow... panicked.
Unable to resist, Talbot paused. The gryphon had landed squarely on top of the ship, its lion-limbs encircling the camouflaged vehicle. But in the midst of trying to tear it to pieces with its hooked beak, Bessie fought back. The same blue light that had cleared the screen of splattered bird suddenly erupted upon the entire hull, lighting the gryphon up with its intensity. Another, more terrified screech elicited from the beast.
Where Talbot originally thought the beast had wrapped itself around the septic truck in a death embrace, he now realized the reverse was true. The gryphon snapped and shrieked, attempting to get loose from the surface of the truck. The electricity held it tight, trapping it.
"Couple more bursts from the lightning-hull, and that fucker will be well and truly fried," commented Wes from behind him, causing Talbot to jump slightly. He hadn't even heard the commando approach.
Drawing his gaze back to the epic battle, Talbot noticed that the gryphon now seemed weaker, its attacks much less ferocious. It was only a matter of time.
"How does the ship do that?" asked Talbot.
"Dunno," replied Wes, turning and moving back toward the rock.
"What do you mean?" called Talbot, scrambling to catch up. "It's your ship, you must know."
Wes paused. "How do emails work?"
"Well...." began Talbot.
"Exactly!" said Wes, resuming his walk. "Someone taught me what it could do, how to manipulate and travel in it, but not the minute descriptions of stuff I didn't have to give a shit about. I control it, but I never created it."
Talbot decided to let the whole thing go. After a final glance back at the ongoing battle, he followed the SAS commando toward the base of Ayers Rock.
"Where are we heading?" Talbot asked.
"I came down on the opposite side of the rock to where the tourists go. I'm hoping whatever we're looking for is close by, unseen by most; otherwise it would probably have already been discovered." Wes paused, pointing up to the left, at a cave, the only thing on this side of the rock partially hidden from their direct view. "I reckon we might as well try there," he said, resuming his walk.
They arrived at a section of the rock just below the small cave. Wes climbed up easily into the fissure and leaned down, extending his hand to Talbot. Grasping it palm to wrist, Talbot was easily hauled up.
Standing up, Talbot brushed the dust from himself before glancing around the cave. Instantly his attention was drawn to a series of paintings on the far wall. They were Aboriginal dot paintings, so called because of their unique multi-dot arrangements, often around central simplistic figures of tribal scenes or animals.
As an archaeologist, Talbot had studied the Aboriginal culture; they were the oldest known race on Earth, after all, their earliest recordings dating over fifty thousand years! Surviving as hunters and gatherers, however, they had never really built a civilization per se, having no permanent structures or industry. Many had speculated on their reasons for not becoming farmers, but Talbot had never weighed into the discussions, finding himself more at home studying ancient Greece and Rome.
He wished he'd paid more attention now. The interior of the small cave was covered in the dot paintings, and he couldn't make much sense of them at all. Talbot knew the artistic interpretations all told a tale, and he wondered if it could possibly give some indication as to what they were supposed to do. He stared at the images, willing them to make sense.
Dots.
Dots everywhere.
Forming lines. Creating circles. Swirls within circles. Perfect....
That was it!
The dots formed patterns. Talbot found that if he mentally changed the dot system into numbers it read out like....
"Binary code!" he shouted.
"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded Wes.
"It's so simple," replied Talbot. He explained the patterns and the formulation for changing it into numbers - zeros and ones - which corresponded with binary code.
"Uh huh..." responded Wes when he finished. "So what's it mean?"
"I don't know," said Talbot, turning back to the cave painting. "But I'll find out. Give me something to write on."
He heard Velcro being parted, and Wes handed him a notepad and pen. Without looking away from the wall, Talbot began jotting down notes, replacing the dotted patterns with zeros and ones. Soon the entire page was filled with numbers.
Talbot gazed down at the paper. "It can't be," he murmured.
"What?" enquired Wes.
"I need something to play music on," he replied.
>
"Well let me just pull a grand piano out of my arse, shall I?"
"No need to get testy," said Talbot. "Do you have anything?"
Wes looked thoughtful. "Actually, I might." He tore open yet another pocket and pulled out a very complicated-looking smart-phone. "This might work."
"Yeah, I don't think so," said Talbot. "Unless I call up U2 to play down the phone; do you have Bono's number handy?"
Wes grinned. "You're getting funnier all the time, especially for a nerd. No, this thing has a mini synthesizer app which can be used to play music."
"Great!" said Talbot, taking the proffered phone. "How's it work?"
"Do I look like a geek to you? This stuff should be up your alley, Doctor, not mine."
Talbot muttered something inaudible. Luckily the phone wasn't as futuristic as he had feared, but it still daunted him. Sliding his finger across the screen, a menu appeared, and Talbot began searching through the files and folders for the app Wes had described.
"Any day now, princess," murmured Wes.
Talbot finally found it in a folder marked 'Crap' and opened it up. It was exactly what he'd hoped for, a miniature piano keyboard appearing on the touch-screen. Now he just had to remember his childhood piano lessons.
Scanning the notes he'd made, Talbot began pressing the keys on the screen, grinning at the harmonious sounds they made in turn. At an exasperated look from Wes, however, Talbot quickly sobered and concentrated on what he was doing; playing the notes he had interpreted from the binary code.
A soft tune lilted through the cave, echoing from the walls and reverberating through the still air. Even the insistent sound of the cicadas outside seemed to have paused.
Talbot played on.
The rock walls began to vibrate slightly, a thin dust sifting from the ceiling. Wes glanced at it, concern etched across his face.
The vibrations increased. Small chunks of stone rattled down the walls and clattered across the floor. Wes appeared ready to haul Talbot to safety, but Talbot shook his head silently, and the commando held his position.
The whole cave was shaking violently now; the music crashing around the interior like the echoes within a bell. Wes pushed his hands hard against his ears in an attempt to block the sound, but Talbot was unable to; his fingers seeming to have a life of their own as they danced across the screen of the smart phone.
There was a final lurch, and the entire cave - actually the entire rock, Ayers Rock - dropped silently into the Earth.
***
They fell for an eternity... or seemed to.
Everything was black, and it took Talbot a few moments to realize he was pressed hard against the ceiling of the cave; the rate of their descent so intense.
Falling.
Falling.
They were hurtling into the depths of the planet. What the hell had Talbot just done?
And what would happen when they finally stopped?
Talbot was just struggling to inhale once more when his question was answered. The entire rock halted in its plunge - and he crashed headfirst into the stone floor of the cave.
CRACK!!!
Pain shot through his face as his nose shattered. Pieces of cartilage actually pushed out through his skin and blood erupted. Everything went red and Talbot sensed he would lose consciousness completely, but forced the feeling aside with effort. He rolled over to his back and cupped his face in shaking hands. The pain was intense!
"Whoa!" hissed Wes beside him, leaping lightly to his feet. "That was fun." A torch light soon illuminated the cave, swiftly shining down on Talbot. "Oh shit."
Talbot felt his hands being gently pried apart, and then the torch was shining into his face, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut.
"You're just going to end up as one big scar, Doc," he heard Wes's voice say. "Now hold on, this is going to sting a bit. Actually, let me amend that statement; this is going to hurt like a motherfucker."
Wes drove the shattered cartilage back into place, and Talbot roared in agony, instinctively trying to twist away. The commando easily straddled his torso and pinned his flailing arms beneath his knees, pulling something from his pants pocket at the same time.
The sound of aerosol hit Talbot's ears a fraction of a second before the pain reached his brain. The medi-foam stung like vinegar, and he thrashed beneath Wes's weight vainly in an attempt to get loose.
"Settle down, Scarface," murmured Wes. "Hey, 'Say hello to my little friend'," he said with a chuckle, wiggling his crotch close to Talbot's face.
"Fuck you!" spat Talbot.
Wes laughed louder. "Nice one," he said. "But we don't have time for this. Toughen up, and let's go, cupcake."
Talbot bit back further curses and, with the stinging abating, rose to his feet, batting aside Wes's offering of assistance. The commando chuckled, handing Talbot the torch and clicking on the light attached to the barrel of his rifle.
Their thin beams illuminated the former cave mouth, which now joined a tunnel disappearing into darkness beyond the range of their torches. Something seemed to be just beyond that illumination, swirling in the settling dust.
"What's that?" whispered Talbot. Wes simply held his hand up, fingers clenched tightly into a fist. Talbot guessed it meant to keep still and silent, and shut his mouth.
Moving forward silently, Wes half crouched as he crept toward whatever was ahead of them in the darkness, his right eye expertly lining up the sight of his M4A5 assault rifle. He switched off his torch and stepped into the gloom, disappearing within seconds. Moments later, a sudden staccato blast echoed through the tunnel, flashing muzzle-fire strobing in the darkness. The sound of something large sprinting away in the darkness reverberated through the shadows.
"We're not alone down here," whispered Wes's voice moments later, causing Talbot to jump slightly and spin around with his torch, which was caught and directed elsewhere by Wes. "Don't blind me with that, you fool."
Talbot shone the torch back the way that the shadowy figure had been, but there was nothing there.
"I got the bugger," said Wes quietly, "didn't even make him flinch, though. Not sure what the hell it was, but it was big. Anyway, the path is clear for the moment. Let's go."
The two moved down the tunnel, Talbot slightly behind the SAS commando as he led the way, his assault rifle up and ready. Their progress was painfully slow, but nothing emerged from the shadows to attack them. Talbot sensed Wes was somehow disappointed as they rounded each corner only to have their lights illuminate nothing.
The tunnel seemed to end ahead, and Talbot's heart began to race. Faint light drifted through from the opening cavern, and Wes clicked off his barrel-light, indicating for Talbot to do the same with his torch. Soft noises trickled through the brightening tunnel.
Creeping up to a crest in the path, Wes indicated for him to drop to the ground and Talbot swiftly lowered himself to the smooth stone surface.
Smooth? They were in a natural rock tunnel, weren't they? Water flow could have smoothed it somewhat, but not to the perfection he was now feeling beneath his fingers. This was definitely not a natural creation.
The two of them crawled up to the crest of the tunnel and peered over. Talbot's jaw literally dropped in shock.
Housed within a staggeringly enormous cavern was a pyramid, almost identical in design to the one they'd found in Atlantis. But this one appeared even larger, more intimidating simply because Talbot was seeing it right in front of him, not through the camera of a DSV.
The towering Mesoamerican step-pyramid resembled those in South America but, as with the one in Atlantis, on a much bigger scale. Perhaps they needed to be identical in order to house the ancient machinery. After a moment's appraisal, Talbot realized the pyramid was sitting within a sandstone cavern, but was crafted from something else entirely. Granite stone appeared to have been used for the huge blocks making up the colossal structure. There was no granite anywhere near where they were - at least not as far as Talbot knew - and he wondered where
it had come from and how the pyramid's creators had gotten it here in the first place.
And then there was the glowing.
The entire structure seemed to emit light, illuminating the entire cavern in a dull glow. Could it be a moss, or perhaps some sort of insect? He put his curiosity aside for the moment, worrying instead about the potential for beasts from mythology to leap upon him at any moment.
"I can't see anything between us and the target," said Wes softly. "But something's watching us, I'd bet my dick on it."
"Okay," whispered Talbot, gazing out at the yawning open space of the cavern. "I trust your dick."
Wes looked at him, one eyebrow raised in query, and Talbot realized what he'd just said. "I mean... you know what I mean! We have to go down there regardless."
Wes stared at him unblinkingly once more before grinning. "Crazy bugger," he muttered. "Let's go. Just follow my dick, okay?"
Shaking the feeling of embarrassment away, Talbot followed Wes, slithering on their bellies over the crest of the tunnel before descending toward the structure at a crouched run. With nothing to take cover behind between them and the pyramid, the pair moved as quickly as possible in the open - utterly exposed.
Talbot heard a faint murmur far behind him. He paused and half-turned, and the sight made him freeze.
"Wes!" he called.
Wes halted abruptly, pivoting on the spot, M4A5 up and aimed, eyes narrowing at what he saw.
"Sweet Jesus," he murmured. "They're stymphalian birds - big bastards with bronze feathers they can throw like daggers. They haven't seen us yet, but get ready to run."
High in the air, filling the entire left side of the cavern was a group of the creatures. The stymphalian birds terrified Talbot, the faint light glinting from their wings as they dipped and soared effortlessly through the air like a flock of crows. Each creature appeared at least the size of a full-grown man, if not larger. The birds suddenly seemed to arc their flight, aiming more toward....
Them!
"Move! Now!" barked Wes. Talbot shot into motion as fast as he could, knowing it was pointless, but determined not to give up yet. He'd gauged the speed of the creatures in the instant he'd watched their flight and knew he'd be nowhere near the pyramid by the time the stymphalian birds caught up with them. But Talbot ran on regardless, the sound of Wes's even breathing indicating the soldier was right behind him.
