The Prometheus Objective

4

In Xavier Montross’ head, the chopper’s engine roared like some ancient behemoth roused from its slumber, and all too eager to start the apocalypse. He couldn’t think or focus. His lover, Diana Montgomery, who had risked her life to save him back there, now suffered the full onslaught of psychic awareness; her brain had become a jumbled cacophony of sights and sounds and emotions, and who knew what else?

Xavier should have been able to console her, to calm her and get her to focus. After all, he had dealt with exactly this on a deeply personal scale, drawing images of death and personal loss since an early age, unaware of why he could see these things that were happening far away or were about to happen, and no one else could. What had made him special, or cursed?

Now she suffered as well, a hundred-fold, and not used to it one bit.

Somehow the pilot was unaffected, or they’d all have crashed now into the hell he’d witnessed on a few glances out the window: New York City, smoke rising from buildings, traffic at a standstill everywhere, mobs storming the streets, apartments on fire.

As bad as those glimpses were however, worse was what he kept seeing in his own mind, from his own unwanted psychic video shots. His particular ‘gift’, to foresee events that would lead to his own demise. So far, this talent had come in handy, allowing him to avert the scenario in most cases.

But this time, he couldn’t see any way out.

Not when the death came at the hands of potentially world-ending events that he could no more sidestep than anyone else.

There had to be a way, but he couldn’t think now. Couldn’t make sense of the horror, of the strange sights. Couldn’t displace the symbolism from the reality. Not when Diana clutched his arm like a vise, and her tearing eyes begged him for help.

At last, Phoebe returned with a First Aid kid, and a syringe she promised held a sedative that might just take the edge off.

“Anything,” Xavier pleaded. But when he closed his eyes, her tormented face dissolved away in a flood of scenes out of some overwrought CGI blockbuster.

An army marches across the scorched earth. Bright red, their gear: helmets, sashes and boots. Heavy rifles and artillery, tanks and missile silos among them streaked red with a band of the rising sun… In a command tower overlooking the extreme display of force, a man dressed as a samurai, a Ronin, all in bright crimson with a shining metallic helmet. His hands raise as he shouts some indiscernible command, and the ground forces cheer as the missile silos release their deadly contents, blasting into the sky and arcing for some distant target.

Closer on that leader, behind the mask, the shaded, hooded eyes…

… matching the color of the small emerald stone revealed now fastened on a chain around his neck…

Flash.

Xavier returned to the jolting cargo bay as Diana’s grip loosened.

“She’ll be okay,” Phoebe reassured him as she put away the hypodermic.

He soothed Diana’s hand, then looked up. “You don’t sound so optimistic.”

Phoebe sighed. “Well, I don’t know what will happen, but we can’t keep her — and everyone sedated forever.”

Xavier winced suddenly, and saw an unbidden vision flash between his eyes:

A series of people, all walks of life, cracking open prescription bottles, popping little red pills, then leaning back and feeling relaxed. One in particular, washing it down with a Coke before he enters a helicopter much like this one…

Blinking, Xavier glanced to the cockpit. “What—?”

Caleb shouted something in the rear seat. He was on the Sat-Phone, likely still interfacing with Edgerrin Temple, or others struggling for command.

Xavier was about to ask when he received another vision.

The nuke detonates behind the Capitol building, while he and Diana watch in horror, but also acceptance, knowing this is inevitable. Their hands clasp together, eyes closing just as the wave of heat and radiation roars over them…

Switch to…

An underground bunker. Command center. Screens and servers and people jammed inside. No one moving or responding as the digital lines of incoming nukes fill each screen.

Again… one unusual object calls his attention:

A pill bottle on the table.

See it, Xavier wills. Closer…

This vision zooms in. Shaky, as the bunker is rocked. As debris falls and the light flickers. As people fail to react or even scream, as if they’re zombies, or in a trance, or just don’t care…

Closer.

On the pill bottle… Can almost read the name when—

Everything goes black.

Xavier rocked back to one side as the chopper tilted then righted itself.

“What the hell?” He leaned in and secured the belt around Diana as Phoebe hung on for dear life. His ears popped as they ascended, and he looked out the window, seeing the city dwindling below — along with a trail of smoke passing them on the right.

“Someone shot at us!” Caleb yelled, gripping the seat-back behind them. He was still on his phone, and Xavier wasn’t sure if he shouted to whoever was on the other end, or to him.

“What’s the status down there?”

Caleb held up a hand, then mumbled something into the phone. “They’re trying to clear a route for us, but we need to get to a certain building in Chelsea, with a landing spot on the roof. Edgerrin’s got a crack team and command post set up for us to use and connect to DC and other world capitals.”

“Jesus,” Phoebe said. “It’s really global?”

“And really bad,” Caleb said. “They want me — us, to get on the air and try to calm people. To instruct them on control and calm, and…”

“Now they want our help?” Phoebe shot back, bitterness rising in her throat. “After what they did to us, to Orlando?”

“Dramatic irony and karma can wait,” Xavier said. “Or there won’t be anything left for us to gloat about. What can we do?” He winced again as…

Another flash:

An arctic horizon, a low sun and a cavern entrance, triangular and immense, carved into an angular cliffside. Footprints lead inside, toward an inviting darkness, then to a torchlit chamber, an altar and a congregation robed in red… A knife (or scalpel) and a pair of toddlers crying and screaming…

A flash of something bright whips from the darkness and warmth gushes down his chest and onto the frozen snow. He falls to his knees as his aortic lifeblood cascades from his body and he can only see that samurai mask, and a bloody, curved knife before startling green eyes.

Someone shook him, and his hand fell from Dian’s limp grasp.

“What’s wrong with you?” Phoebe, her hair over her wild eyes, shouted over the roaring engine.

He shook his head, glanced from her to Diana and then to Caleb, who he knew, could tell exactly what was wrong.

“You’re seeing your death?”

Xavier nodded. “A hell of a lot of them. Relentless. And not just mine…” He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear the visions, along with the nausea from the chopper’s flight path.

“We’re coming in,” Phoebe said, as they all dipped forward, then down. “But who the hell was shooting at us?”

“Anarchists, crazies, enemies already in place and prepared for this?” Caleb shook his head.

“Ever the conspiracy theorist?”

“Shoe fits,” he snapped back. “Xavier, I want a debrief on what you’re seeing.”

“I… can’t. Nothing helps. I’m seeing alternate timelines, maybe. Different scenarios.”

Caleb nodded. “Maybe diverging quantum universes, but we’ll need you to see through it all and… I hate to say it, but you may be called upon to lead us all out of this mess.”

“What?”

“Yeah. From what Edgerrin just said, most of Congress is incapacitated, or at best, unable to make any justifiable decisions. The President and Cabinet are in in lockdown, and not responding in any coherent way.”

Xavier frowned. “Drugs…”

“What?” Phoebe coughed the response. “At a time like this?”

“No, something about a prescription medication. I’ve seen it repeatedly, and it’s connected somehow to all this. I think…” He turned as the chopper swayed dramatically, then settled over the rooftop, landing on the building pad.

“Shit… our pilot might be affected!”

Caleb unbuckled first and stood up, facing the cockpit door now, fear in his eyes. “How do you mean, ‘affected’?”

“I don’t know, it’s a commonality I saw. People taking some pills and… uhnnn” He groaned and held his head as another onslaught of visions crashed on him. Beyond the mass annihilation, cataclysm from the sky and the nukes — something else…

A cockpit door opens and a pilot, helmet still shielding his face, comes out with a gun drawn. Xavier rushes him, getting between the shot and Diana. A flash and a roar in his eardrums, another flash and he’s on his knees, two holes torn through his shirt, and oddly he thinks the configuration makes them appear like the stars of the Gemini constellation….

Back — it was too much. Couldn’t focus, see or talk. Had to warn them…

How much time had just passed? Can I still stop it?

His head spun around to the cockpit door, which creaked and opened a crack.

Cool air rushed into the cockpit as another door opened behind him.

A shout, a scuffle. Shapes rushed past, someone elbowed him aside.

A glimpse of men in blue, and a dark-suited man with a flight helmet…

A gunshot and a scream.

Something crashed onto his head and the world went black.