Atlantis Reprise

by James Axler

  Although it didn’t hit its intended target, it was a galvanizing moment. Any pretence at concealment was lost as the Nightcrawlers realized they had been seen. Now their objective was to reach their target without being fired upon, and engage in hand-to-hand combat. In this, they knew they had the skills to balance the numbers, perhaps even best them if their compatriots arrived.

  The shot did more than just set these two opponents in motion. It echoed through the woods and alerted the other Nightcrawler parties that there was a firefight. The runner from the engaging party had reached his target, but the third group, over in the far sector of the woodlands, was now alerted. With their trained senses, it was simple for them to ascertain the direction of the shot and to proceed to aid their comrades and engage in combat.

  The four cluster groups were unaware of the other parties, approaching them from differing locations, and were concentrated on their primary objective. Taking cover, J.B. and Ryan directed their groups—who they had adjudged to be the weakest of the sec—to spread across in a line, backing and covering for the groups of Mildred and Jak, who would now move into more offensive positions.

  Mark gestured to Lemur and Cyran to take cover and not to join himself and Jak. The Memphis leader shot his sec chief a glance that betrayed both an anger and frustration that he couldn’t join the offensive, and yet at the same time a relief tinged with shame, as he knew he would be more of a liability in this situation.

  Six warriors headed toward the source of the enemy approach. Stilling their own breathing, treading with an extreme caution, they tried to silence their own movements, so that they could pick up any from their enemy. But the Nightcrawlers were far more experienced, and for Mildred there was a split second of shock when a Crawler stepped out in front of her, blade raised to hack at her.

  It was fortunate that the Crawler had chosen to meet her head-on rather than risk the wait until she had passed. If she had been taken from the rear, she would have bought the farm. Even if the Crawler had elected to hold the knife low and sweep at her guts, she would have had trouble defending herself. But the enemy had chosen to use a downward blow that would pitch the blade into her chest.

  It was a lazy option, taken because—ultimately—the Crawlers were used to Memphis sec who couldn’t adequately defend themselves. It gave Mildred just the edge she needed. She was shocked, yes, but her recovery time was swift. As the Crawler’s arm descended, she reacted just quick enough to block the blow, deflecting the knife arm so that the blade skidded off the shoulder of her padded jacket. It ripped the material, but didn’t bite deep enough to penetrate to the flesh beneath.

  The sweep of the Crawler’s arm left his body open. The fact that he was almost naked, covered only in paint, meant that he had no padding to soften the blow Mildred delivered. Straight-armed, knuckles bent to form a ridge, she drove her hand into the man’s rib cage, delivering a hammer blow under his heart. It expelled the air from his lungs with a startled gasp and he tried desperately to suck in air and move his numbed body, the shock of the blow resounding around his nervous system.

  Mildred didn’t give him the chance. Another blow to the head, striking him by the temple, felled him, the knife falling from nerveless fingers. As he fell, she went down with him. Grasping his head and twisting savagely, she heard his neck snap. The light of understanding flared briefly, as he knew his life was over, before fading.

  Quickly she scrambled to her feet, taking the knife. It was a good, strong blade, slightly longer than a hunting knife but not quite a panga. Now she had a blade, she was on even terms for close fighting…although she hadn’t, so far, found it to be a problem.

  ‘One less,’ she muttered tersely to herself as she scanned the surrounding area to take in what was happening.

  The Nightcrawlers were finding themselves outnumbered and outclassed as the Memphis sec put into operation the lessons learned from training with the companions. Close-up knife fighting was something they had always found impossible, but with the training they had received, and the greater numbers, they were repelling the attacks from the Crawlers. Indeed, in many cases they were able to turn the tables and force their opponents onto the back foot, driving the Crawlers back as they attempted to gain an upper hand but found themselves forced into defensive measures. Some of the sec sustained injuries, blood flowing from superficial wounds where they hadn’t been quick enough to avoid a blow. But these were instances that would, in the recent past, have seen them succumb to a sucker punch and fall. Now they were able to recover and keep fighting.

  The sec force drove the Nightcrawlers back, not heeding the direction they were headed. The Crawlers may have been losing the battle, but they were at least succeeding in pulling their opponents off course. J.B. was aware of that, and yelled above the melee for the sec to try to finish off the Crawlers, or to make them run. And if they succeeded in this, to let them flee rather than pursue and lose time.

  It didn’t matter if some of their opponents retreated alive. The greater priority was to press on for Atlantis.

  The sounds of combat were louder than the silence that had preceded them, but were unbroken by blasterfire following Jak’s initial shot. This was close-in fighting, with blades safer than bullets lest you inadvertently take out your own side. So there was little enough background noise for Jak to catch a break in the rhythms and another set of sounds assailing his ears.

  ‘East, west, come fast,’ he yelled over the sounds of clashing steel and screaming men.

  J.B. and Ryan were on it. There were no Memphis sec in these directions, so no need to be careful. While their backs were protected by their fellows, who now had the direct opposition on the run, both men took positions and listened. Over the general hubbub it was hard to pick out sounds that didn’t fit; but the wildly differing directions made it easier once they were able to assume positions that allowed them to detach themselves from the fighting at their backs. Exchanging glances, both opted to take higher ground.

  The stunted trees didn’t add much height, but it was enough to give them a better view of the surrounding area. Added to this, the thick, gnarled and mutated trunks, with their twisting boles, gave the two men easy foot- and handholds, so they were able to shin up them rapidly.

  Once in the cover of the branches, they were able to settle themselves and to watch for incoming. They didn’t have long to wait. Although the canopy of leaves obscured their own views as much as it provided cover for the two companions, there was still enough space to spot the dark Crawlers, whose camou was now becoming counterproductive; and even if they kept in the obscurity of the cover provided, their movements still sent small ripples across the surrounding area.

  Ryan had the Steyr settled comfortably into his shoulder and was scanning the territory to the east. J.B. had opted for the mini-Uzi, set to rapid fire, and was surveying the west. It was only a matter of time before they located their targets and were able to open fire.

  Ryan faced a greater task than the Armorer. The Steyr was an excellent target rifle, but to pick off his prey he had to make every shot count.

  J.B., on the other hand, knew that the mini-Uzi wasn’t a precision target weapon. However, that didn’t matter, as his tactic would be different. Simply, he would size an arc that covered the Crawlers he could see, or movement that would indicate their position, and then he would tap the trigger and open fire in a spray’n’pray arc that would echo his initial assessment. There was a good chance that he would hit an opponent each time he fired, and even if that wasn’t the case it was likely that such an action would pin them down or drive them back, nullifying their effectiveness.

  The two men watched and waited for their chance. The woodlands were so still beyond the battleground beneath that it was simple to pick out any movement. And any movement could only mean one thing: the approaching Nightcrawlers.

  Ryan allowed himself a cold grin as the tall figure of a Crawler hove into view, making his way between points of cover and exposing himsel
f for a fraction of a second. It was enough. With his torso and head presenting a clear shot, Ryan sighted and squeezed. The sharp crack of the rifle’s report echoed around the woods, sounding over the battle beneath. He saw the Crawler drop from view, a splash of crimson in the dark paint indicating that he had been hit in the thorax.

  The sound of the Steyr signaled a flurry of activity across the east and west approaches to the scene of battle. The foliage moved violently as the Crawlers sought cover. But for those who came under J.B.’s province, the flurry of foliage did little more than give him a clear arc to mark out and fire. Selecting his start and end points, he tapped the trigger and brought the SMG around in a smooth arc, the constant rounds of fire chopping up trees and pulping leaves and branches. It also caught several of the Crawlers who were in the line of fire. Some dropped without his being able to see, either chilled or too incapacitated by their wounds to be able to move, and others staggered into the open before dropping, pain making them forget all caution. These he was able to pick off with ease, switching to single shot.

  Over in Ryan’s target area, the burst of fire from the mini-Uzi had reaped a positive result for the one-eyed man. Thinking that they were to be hit with a similar spray’n’pray attack, the Crawlers he was firing on began to move rapidly, separating to deflect a clear arc and leaving trails of disturbance to mark their path. Although he couldn’t see them clearly, he was able to estimate where they would be in the moving foliage, and so pick a shot. The cessation of movement was testimony to his accuracy with such a chance maneuver.

  The attack from east and west had been repelled. Those who hadn’t fallen began to move in an opposite direction. The survivors weren’t cowards, but they were true fighters, and realists. They had figured out that to stay and be picked off would achieve nothing. To hit at the Memphis attack force, they would have to retreat, return to their ville and inform their sec chief and Odyssey of what had occurred, so that a contingency plan could be put into place.

  Ryan and J.B. watched them go from their vantage points. There were less than half the number remaining, and the farther they retreated, the harder they would be to pick off. Was it worth trying to hit them, or should they let them go? If they were able to pick them all off, it would prevent word reaching Atlantis that an attack was under way. However, Ryan figured that if there were Crawler patrols out here, then Odyssey was already assuming such a course of action. Added to which, runners may have been sent back to the ville before these parties had initially advanced. Those who had survived the blasterfire actually had no idea how strong the raiding party was. Given the way they had been scattered, and that they were unused to any real competition, it was likely that they would overestimate.

  Ryan was undecided if this would be a good thing. It would mean a greater sec force against them, but conversely it would be easier to slip past any sec parties if they were geared to hunting a greater number.

  But none of this would mean shit if they didn’t get past the maze. And that would count for nothing if they didn’t move out fast from this position.

  The noise below was lessening, and as Ryan shinned down the tree he could immediately see that none of the Crawlers had been left standing.

  ‘Others?’ Jak asked.

  ‘Either chilled or on the run,’ Ryan said swiftly. ‘We need to get back on course and get moving. They’ll be expecting us, but they don’t know how many. If we’re on their tails, then they won’t have time to add any more defences to the maze. And getting past that bastard is my main concern.’

  ‘Okay,’ Mark grunted, turning to his fellow Memphis people. ‘Shape up into the same formations as before. Wounded?’ A couple of fighters raised their hands, but claimed—with a hint of pride, Ryan noted wryly—that they were merely superficial wounds. Confidence was high. They had bested their enemy for the first time, and also perhaps for the first time they truly believed that they could fulfill this mission.

  ‘Let’s do this,’ Mark said to Ryan. The one-eyed man nodded and directed the reformed clusters to move out in the direction of Atlantis.

  The only members of the party not to feel elation at their progress and victory were Lemur and Cyran. The Memphis leader was, in truth, a little alarmed by what he now saw as bloodlust in his people. Were they no better than those he hoped to overthrow? If this was so, did it mean that the loss of one despot could only give rise, ultimately, to the birth of another?

  He didn’t doubt that they should fight, but it did worry him that they may forget what exactly they were fighting for.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With no opposition to impede their progress, and buoyed by the sense of victory that the Memphis sec felt after the battle, they made swift progress toward the outer edge of Atlantis. The clusters began to move closer together without realization, as the increasing gaps between the trees allowed for more room to move.

  As the density of the woodland began to decrease, and there was more light seeping through the lessening canopy above them, Mark indicated that they should slow.

  ‘We are within a few minutes of coming upon the maze. There is a patch of open ground that circles this defense.’

  ‘So before we hit it, we’re out in the open,’ J.B. muttered. ‘That’s just great.’

  Mark admonished him. ‘It isn’t, generally, defended by any sec men. And it isn’t, in itself, a trap. As I understand it, the land surrounding the maze has been poisoned by the toxins that are used in some of the interior traps, that have escaped and seeped into the earth. There is a similar stretch of land on the far side of the maze that is also useless for building or farming.’

  Ryan stopped dead. ‘Wait! Why didn’t you mention this when we were making our plans?’

  Mark gave him a baffled glance and answered with a disingenuousness that could only be genuine. ‘I did not consider it would be that important—there is a fear of the land, and the Nightcrawlers are loathe to stand upon it for any length of time. It isn’t patrolled, so—’

  Ryan had trouble controlling his anger. ‘So that doesn’t matter so much this side of the fucking maze, but once we get through—if we all do—then we’re going to be tired, and mebbe running on empty. Last thing we need is to be clear targets, out in the open.’

  ‘But I said—’

  Ryan cut the sec chief short. ‘Fireblast and fuck it, man. Mebbe it wouldn’t matter normally, but they know we’re coming, don’t they? They’re not just going to stand around waiting for us to come knocking, are they?’

  Mark grimaced. ‘I suppose that is a fair point,’ he conceded reluctantly.

  Lemur cut in. ‘This is no time for disagreement. It was an oversight, nothing more. Even the best of us are not used to such conditions of war, and things that you, with your skills, could pinpoint as being important, may not seem of significance to us.’

  Ryan couldn’t resist a wry grin. It was obvious why Lemur had risen to become Memphis leader. No pride would be wounded on either side by pointing out such a fact, and it smoothed tempers enough for a solution to be sought without recourse to recriminations.

  ‘Okay, let’s leave it at that. It does give us a little problem, though.’

  The teams of fighters had now stopped, and Ryan sent Jak to scout ahead and report on the gap between the maze and the end of the woodlands that provided their cover.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t trust your word, it’s just that… It’s like Lemur says, mebbe Jak will be able to see things you don’t notice,’ he explained to Mark. The sec chief nodded his agreement. Ryan appreciated that. Some in his position would have seen this as a put-down coming from strangers. Maybe that was part of the reason Ryan had taken to the men of Memphis: they put the needs of the many above their own petty pride and jealousy. Things the one-eyed man had been forced to swallow many times during his life.

  While Jak scouted ahead, Ryan and Mark went over tactics with the group once more. Given that the maze was interchangeable, there was no way they could pre-arra
nge a route. Each cluster had yarn that they had been given before departure. Each ball of yarn was a different color. One white; one red; one gray; one pink, made by washing out dye from a red ball. The clusters would set off at intervals and mark their path by yarn. It was something Mildred had suggested, inspired by a legend she remembered from grade school. Minos had inspired the Atlantean labyrinth, and so the legend of slaying the beast in the original maze had given her the idea of marking their paths by yarn. The differing colors would mark which party had left the trail, and so if one hit a dead end, they may be able to retrace and find the marker of another party that had forged ahead with—perhaps—greater success.

  The tactics were simple. By necessity, they could be little else. Each cluster would set off for the entrance to the maze, spaced thirty seconds apart. Only the last party would have to risk the trip across open space without cover, although Mark was adamant that wouldn’t be necessary. Once inside, the cluster teams would mark their paths with the yarn, and stay triple red for the traps and for the beasts that were allowed to roam within. Mark was unsure whether they were kept penned or tethered, used as part of a man-trap or used separately. They would have to stay frosty and assume that anything was possible.

  Once on the other side, they were to wait for the other teams, no more than five minutes at the most. Even this length of time may not be possible, for they may come under attack from the Nightcrawlers, particularly if the far side of the maze left them as exposed as now seemed the case.

  When the teams—or as many as made it through—were assembled, then they would set off for Odyssey’s temple, using the ex-Atlanteans’s knowledge of the ville to keep in cover as much as possible. They would be actively pursued, but their small number dictated they try to keep cover…something that the very lack of numbers should make easier to insure.