Crucified Prometheus

Hercules, my friend, we ran the same girls and pulled out the same dangers. Semi-man and half-god, you’re from Hyperborea like me. I know the impossible mission that the Goddess entrusted to you. Despite the success of the twelve trials she has already imposed on you, despite the superhuman strength associated with your name Hercules, she knows you can not do it.

She’s right. No one can do anything against Zeus and his Black Guard. The odious god has massed twelve legions of giants around the rock where his nephew groans. Prometheus is cursed. It is said that every night an eagle falls on him to devour his liver, which will grow again the day after to be pecked at night. Don’t you see that Hera is having fun at your expense? The heart and body of the Goddess won’t be won by arms. She sends you to free her future lover. If you succeed, he will go to her bed, and you will stay in yours. If you fail, same result: she will refuse you her favors.

She wants Prometheus, she will get him. Your failure seems inevitable. No one can lift the punishment of the Titan punished by Zeus the cruel, Zeus the vile, Zeus the little one. Except Hera. What does she need from you? She can do anything, you can’t do anything for her, and you know it. I hate to deny you this service, but I don’t see how to help you.

“Enoch, my double and my master, you misunderstand my intentions,” answered Hercules. I do not pretend to brave the Black Guard, I mean to deceive it by cunning. Now, please, tell me about your magic ship. I have often seen you come into this ship without ever seeing it approach. What is its mysterious power?

I don’t answer a single word. I can see clearly where the bad guy is pushing me. But it’s excluded. Chronoscaphe is a temporal vessel. It can materialize where and when I decide in this huge universe. I can’t lend it to anyone, it only obeys me. Chronoscaphe is one of the wonderful machines that sleep in the bunkers of Hyperborea. It was forged by the Cyclops and wired by the Dwarves. The Witches have breathed life into it, the Reptiles have stealthed it to their semblance. This perfect machine gives us a chance to deceive the vigilance of the Black Guards. A chance, not two.

Chronoscaphe can not be controlled by another, it is set to my frequency, nothing can be done. I was going to explain to Heracles, he does not give me the opportunity: – I know all this, don’t worry. So I don’t only need your temporal vessel, but you! Enoch, my friend, my master, do enter this adventure. Your talent and your powers will give us the victory. I recruited the elite heroes to escort me on this trip. With your help and the precious contribution of your stealth ship, I have no doubt that fifty resolute men will know how to liberate the Titan, break his chains and bring him to Hera’s room. The rest, O Enoch, do not concern us.

Now the fellow reads in my thoughts! Hercules’ plan is crystal clear. By borrowing the corridors of time, we could arise in chronoscaphe to launch our troops in the fight. In the hold of chronoscaphe, one can load a whole cargo. In the cabin will embark the fifty valiant companions chosen by Hercules and Jason. That suddenly convinces me to help him. This is how I engaged in one of the most singular adventures I have ever had.

The Trick Of Hercules

I greeted the noble Jason, who will lead our expedition. He wishes to change the name of my ship, I willingly consent. The chronoscaphe is called Argos, and his crew, the Argonauts. Jason wants to honor his province, Argolis, where we armed Argos and loaded his holds with all the equipment necessary for our expedition. Here is the moment of departure. The fifty men have embarked, they excel in multiple tasks. I take meals with them. Am I not the pilot of Argos, and an Argonaut like them all? None are suspicious of me. They all talk about the lost ship of Rama, the mythical Golden Fleece. They say the captain knows where she is hidden.

To hear them, to recover the imperial vessel is the real goal of our trip. I think they say true. Heracles played with me. I can see his attention to the dimensions of the chronoscaphe. He intends to bring the Golden Fleece into the hold of this ship! The formidable Golden Fleece! Its sub-luminous and submarine performances in hyper-fast mode, the quality and the power of its armament make the imperial ship a super-weapon of mass destruction. The planet belongs to the one who holds this weapon. The Golden Fleece will make him more powerful than the gods, stronger than the giants, even if he were only a man. This man, this little king, this captain devoured by ambition, we know him, it’s Jason. I should never have lent myself to this madness.

Too late ! When the amphora is uncorked, drink the resin. I am an argonaut, I agreed to serve Jason, I have to fulfill this role, to honor this contract and to keep my word. I will obey.

Jason’s orders are clear: I have to keep Argos out of the present for the whole geographical approach, and when I sit near the hangar where the Golden Fleece sleeps, at the very last moment, switch to the present time. the maneuver is delicate, I will need all the control and concentration acquired at the controls of chronoscaphe. Any incident of course may cause the landing to fail, at the risk of breaking wood. I chose to position myself a few steps in the future, to safely arise a few moments before, and surprise the Black Guards without fear of encountering an unexpected obstacle.

Argos now flies over the Ural Mountains range, approaching Arkaim, Terraform’s first land station. Here is the landing platform, I will ask and hop! I rock back the temporal lever, the chronoscaphe lands in the present … and in a cargo cruiser of the Black Guard in the takeoff phase! Before the shock wave destroys my ship, I reflexively remove the time lever to its previous position, saving Argos and his crew from the deadly collision in extremis. Immediately after, I return to the present to rest intact on the smoking debris of the enemy cargo ship. I open the gates of Argos. On the heels of Hercules and Jason, the armed crew leaped like one man. Soon we are in the shed, a vast cave whose vault is lost in the shadow. And we are speechless, nailed by surprise.

Before our wide eyes of horror stands an elegant warship. It seems cut in a gigantic block of golden crystal. Here she is, the mortal vessel of Rama, the Golden Fleece that was believed so long lost. Here and now she stands in her marvelous reality. The Golden Fleece is shining, she is dazzling us. The purity of her drawing, the grace of her silhouette, the fluidity of her air lines can not distract the attention of terrifying weapons whose gaping mouths pierce her golden flanks. The mortal perfection of Rama’s flagship lies in her simplicity. The craft is piloted by thought. She reacts at the same speed as the pilot’s instinct. Victory and death are read in her mirror.

But none of this can bend the Argonauts. What nails us with incredulous horror is the treachery of Zeus. His vicious cruelty. There, on the crest of the dead cruiser, crucified as a criminal, the Titan Prometheus deploys his giant body. His slow contortions express such a great amount of suffering, and for so many years, so many centuries! Not one of us, in his heart and in his head, can refrain from cursing the name of Zeus, of all his will, of all his strength, and for all eternity. The Titan is still alive. He does not say a word. His eyes are closed. He breathes with great difficulty. His lungs rise a little when he takes his breath, and he softly whines. His big exhausted body is pierced on the side. The bow of the ship pierces him from side to side. Tapered, crystalline, the tip comes out of his body just at the level of the liver.