Buck Rogers & the Queen of Cthulhu Episode One:
The Depths of Neptune
(As published in Amazing Stories, Vol. 29, No. 1, February 2432)
By Jon Wretlind
Atthe helm stood “Buck Rogers”, the indomitable pilot of the 25th century, his jaw set, eyes sharp with the steel glint of old Earth courage. He had faced death in more than one galaxy, stared into the gaping maws of Martian sand serpents, and seen the black suns of Vega—but nothing had prepared him for the rumors that had filtered from the Neptune colonies.
“Bio-anomalies,” they said. “Whispers in the ice. A queen who commands the tides beneath the methane seas.”
Rogers tightened his gloves as the ship trembled. “Approaching the outer atmosphere,” he said, voice steady over the static of his helmet comm. “Helios IV to Terran Command—beginning descent into the Neptunian thermocloud layer. Atmospheric pressure rising.”
Static. Then nothing. The radio died.
Rogers scowled. “Typical,” he muttered. “Every time the cosmic rays flare, the brass forgets about old Buck.” He gripped the controls tighter, peering through the viewport as the swirling storms of Neptune consumed his ship—vortexes of teal and black gas, alive with silent lightning that danced like the fingers of unseen gods.
The Kingdom Beneath
The **Helios IV** broke through the ammonia haze, emerging over an endless expanse of green-black ocean that stretched to infinity. It was no ordinary sea. It shimmered with strange luminescence, as if vast organisms pulsed below the surface, breathing light into the darkness.
Suddenly, a beacon appeared—a perfect spire of impossible architecture rising from the waves. Its surface was slick and organic, its lines alien and curvilinear. It seemed not built, but grown.
“Holy rockets…” Rogers whispered. “What kind of engineering is that?”
Before he could record the phenomenon, a magnetic surge slammed into the ship. Alarms blared. He fought the stick, but gravity had him. The **Helios IV** spun helplessly toward the sea.
Impact! Cold darkness swallowed him whole.
The Queen of Cthulhu
When Rogers awoke, he was alive—but not on his ship. He lay upon a smooth platform of translucent coral, under a canopy of shifting violet light. Around him, the walls undulated with life—tentacles of seaweed, living lamps that blinked like eyes. The air (if it was air) shimmered in waves of pressure.
A voice came through the haze—soft, musical, yet heavy with command.
“You are not of the Deep.”
Rogers sat up. “Depends what you mean by deep,” he said, hand instinctively reaching for his pistol. But it was gone.
Before him stood a woman—if woman she was. Her skin was pale blue, her hair a flowing mass of silver strands that seemed to move like liquid mercury. Her eyes were pools of luminous green, reflecting stars that no Earthman had seen. Upon her brow was a crown fashioned of coral and bone, and behind her, massive columns carved in symbols that twisted the eye.
“I am Ner’athuna, Queen of Cthulhu,” she said. “Ruler of the Abyssal Throne, Keeper of the Outer Current, last of the Dreaming Blood.”
Rogers, for once, was speechless.
She smiled faintly. “You have trespassed in the sanctum of my kind, sky-walker. Few who fall into our realm return to speak of it.”
He stood, brushing off his flight suit. “With respect, Your Majesty, I didn’t come here to sightsee. I came following distress signals from the Neptune colonies. What’s been happening out there? Ships vanishing, entire stations gone dark—people whispering about ‘the Call of Cthulhu.’ That mean anything to you?”
At the word, the Queen’s expression shifted—fear and fury flickered across her face like lightning on water.
“Do not speak that name so carelessly,” she hissed. “Cthulhu is not a name—it is a *hunger*. A god older than worlds. And his dreams reach even here, beneath the frozen tides.”
The Minions of the Deep
A sudden tremor shook the chamber. From the far wall, a deep bass note echoed—an organic, resonant hum. The Queen turned sharply toward a window that opened to the abyss outside. “Too late,” she whispered. “They have found you.”
Through the portal, Rogers saw them—dark shapes moving in the green depths. Squid-like creatures with mechanical implants, part organic, part machine. Their eyes glowed red, and their tentacles carried harpoon rifles.
The Minions of the Neptune Chthulu Kingdom.
Pirates of the cosmic sea.
Rogers drew his breath. “Guess they don’t roll out the welcome mat for outsiders.”
The Queen pressed a crystal embedded in the wall, and the chamber sealed with a sound like a sigh. “These abominations serve the Dreaming One,” she said. “They seek to awaken Him. For centuries we have held them back, but their numbers grow. They have learned to twist the old technologies—the relics left by the First Builders. Now, they bring war to the surface.”
Buck Rogers & the Queen of Cthulu