plates unfolded creating a covering over his mouth and nose. Small slits opened on the side revealing artificial gills. Alexander dropped into the pool without another word.
The water was bathtub warm. Bluish light radiated from moss covering the walls. It was almost tranquil until Alexander reached the main part of the underground river. Pressure ripped him from the warm water into the cold dankness. His gut was turned sideways from the cross dimensional energies ebbing and flowing in the dark water. The tunnel was filled top to bottom with water. His goggles projected a false color image of his surroundings that overlaid his vision.
It was less of a grease trap and more of a dump. Garbage littered the fast flowing river with junk from every time and place imaginable. Freshly dead rotting dinosaur corpses mingled with wrecked Roman Legion mechas. The current dragged Alexander along until he came to a larger cavern. He was able to surface. The tunnel was worn smooth from countless ages of being scoured with water. Flotsam made of indeterminate pieces of interdimensional trash floated along the surface. Some made small islands in the middle of the swift underground river. Any other day Alexander would have been fascinated by the finds available in there.
He swam along the surface avoiding piles of garbage. He saw occasional movement among some of the larger trash piles. He did his best to avoid them despite his own curiosity at some of the objects they contained. One of Alexander’s hobbies was collecting alternate universe collectables.
The current carried him along the main branch. Occasional tributaries branched off of the main line, but the Lama’s promise held true. He could feel the pull of the branching interdimensional threads tugging at him as he passed them by.
Gunshots and inhuman screeches rang out over the sound of rushing water. Bright muzzle flashes illuminated the dark cave. Ahead of him a pitched battle was unfolding among the detritus of the underground river. Humanoid salamander men with oil black skin were attacking a small scuttled fish shaped submarine being defended by three men in tattered military uniforms.
Shouts from the men became clearer as Alexander neared the battle. They were shouting in English and firing short barreled naval rifles into the salamander men. For every creature they dropped, two more would clamber onto the submarine to try and devour them. Without intervention these men would be making their last stand.
Alexander pulled his kukiri and activated the vibrating edge. Microscopic gears turned mechanisms at the edge of the blade creating a monomolecular chainsaw. He dove underwater and swam toward the frenzied swarm of monstrous salamanders. He kicked off a rusted out 1967 Chevrolet Aeronaut Flying Car lodged in the muddy bottom of the river and into the swirling mass of creatures.
Gutted and limbless salamanders flowed in Alexander’s wake. He was fast even underwater. Doing a turn and kicking off the far wall he made another pass through the now diminished swarm. They snapped sharp fanged jaws, clamping onto him but failing to break his skin. Thin taloned hands grabbed at him as he slashed and stabbed at the monsters. Ichor clouded the water as he continued to carve a swath through their ranks.
Alexander continued to hack and slash at the salamanders as he came to the realization that those still close to him were dead. Severed limbs still clutched at his coat and boots. He couldn’t hear any more gunshots from above the water’s surface. He floated to the river surface to find rifles trained on his head. He raised his hands in the air hoping the three soldiers wouldn’t fire on him.
“Don’t shoot,” said Alexander. His voice was altered by his mechanical gills.
“Drop the knife,” one of the soldiers shouted with a definite English accent.
Alexander did as he was told. Sir Waldron detached himself from his tiny safety harness, swam after it and reattached it to Alexander’s belt.
“I’ve just come to help. I heard the commotion and saw those creatures attacking,” said Alexander, hands still above his head.
“You a Yank?” asked the man standing nearest the hatch.
“Yes. If you’ll not shoot me for moving, I’ll retract the covering on my face,” said Alexander.
The man nearest nodded to Alexander in consent. Alexander tapped a small button on his goggles and his gills retracted. He pushed up his goggles onto his forehead to show his grey eyes. The tunnel was pitch black except for the light coming from a lantern dangling from the front of the submersible. Up close, it looked like a mechanical anglerfish.
“He looks human enough,” said the third man, a youngish acne scarred seaman with unruly black hair and ropy muscles. “Come out of the water then. You’ll catch your death,” he said as he shouldered his rifle and offered Alexander a hand up.
Alexander recognized the sub as a warship as soon as he stood on it. He didn’t recognize the make or model, but could feel the intent of the machine clear as day. A modified Union Jack was painted on the side. Much care had been taken in the construction and design of the ship. He felt it was a shame it was damaged beyond repair, at least out of dry dock.
“Alexander Valtam. A pleasure to meet you,” said Alexander as he offered a hand to the men in turn.
“Third Lieutenant Desmond Young,” said the tall and traditionally handsome young man nearest the edge of the craft. He was sporting a three day beard and bleeding from several slash wounds. “This is Midshipman Reginald Rice III,” said Desmond pointing to the baby-faced burly young man next to him. He was nursing a bite wound on his left arm, “and that is Helmsman Arthur Sterling,” he said, motioning to the pocked scarred man at the hatch.
“A pleasure to meet you all. If I may make an assumption, you are unsure where you are at, and less curious as to how you got here than as to how you will get home?” asked Alexander.
“That would be accurate,” said Midshipman Rice. “We were off the coast of Brazil, and hit an odd undersea electrical storm. It knocked the stuffing out of our control system, and the next thing we know we were dashed on the rocks in this tunnel. We were out doing repairs when we were attacked,” finished Rice.
“Just to satisfy my curiosity, what year is it?” asked Alexander.
“1877,” said Sterling, “did you hit your head or something?” he finished.
“Several times,” said Alexander. They were farther from home than they realized.
“Look, gentlemen. I can get you home if you come with me. I’m in the middle of an impromptu rescue mission, and help would be appreciated. You’re pretty far from home, and you’re going to see some very strange things. Take my advice-accept what you see at face value. Thinking too much won’t do you any good. Mine is the voice of experience,” said Alexander.
“This is my first command. I can’t just abandon ship,” said Third Lieutenant Young, “I’ll be knocked down to Midshipman for the rest of my life for this,” he said.
“I’ll write you a note. Look, to be blunt, if you stay here, you will die. I can at least promise you that we will get out of these tunnels if you come with me. After that, it depends on how well you follow orders,” said Alexander.
“He makes a point, Desmond,” said Midshipman Rice. “Circumstances are extraordinary. I’m sure the Admiralty will take that into account,” he finished.
“I’m going with. I’d rather be drummed out of the service than eaten by a monster in some dark hole,” said Helmsman Sterling. “I’ll get the log, gear, and raft.”
“Look, I’ve done this sort of thing many times. I’ll brief you on the mission on the way,” said Alexander.
“How do suppose to find the way out of here?” asked Lieutenant Young.
“Lamas from Shangri-La blessed my passage through the river. Face value, son,” Alexander said as he patted the baffled young lieutenant on the shoulder.
“This should take care of any nasty diseases you’ve likely picked up after tangling with the salamander people, “said Alexander as he injected a quasi-magical panacea into all three men. He sprayed foam into their wounds that sealed the site and created an instant flexible bandage.
“I??
?ve never seen anything quite like your tools, “said Rice as he winced at the injection.
“Curiosity is not your friend, Mr. Rice. You don’t want to know how deep in the stuff you really are,” said Alexander. He finished tending to the wounds of Midshipman Rice and Lieutenant Young while Sterling gathered salvageable gear from the sub.
Sterling deployed an inflatable raft and secured it to the wreckage of the sub with a rope. The men loaded their few remaining viable supplies, which included cold weather gear, into the raft and boarded. They untied the rope and were swept up with the current. Alexander put his goggles back on bringing the cave back into clear view. He took the till to steer them away from the heaps of wreckage scattered in the river.
“Keep a look out for anything that moves. Lord knows what else makes its home down here,” said Alexander as he steered clear of a small iceberg containing a giant frozen furred mantis.
“What are the details of the action you plan to take, Mr. Valtam?” asked Lieutenant Young as he stared warily at a cybernetic octopus carcass being harvested for parts by a tribe of technologically advanced rats.
“A tribe of beastmen-Yetis-have kidnapped a number of people for unknown purposes. I have dealt with these Yetis in the past, but they have grown far more sophisticated than they have ever have been before. I intend to go into their compound,