"Sir!" the Sergeant shouted, giving a crisp salute. "All units are fueled, armed, and ready to go, sir. I have taken the liberty of ordering the crews to begin stoking the boilers."
The lieutenant narrowed his eyes. "Have you now?" Lieutenant Donaldson said sternly. "Well, sergeant, since you are so bloody eager to be off…"
Knowing he had seriously overstepped his authority, the Sergeant braced himself for a formal denouncement, swiftly followed by getting his arse chewed off in private. But instead, the Lieutenant laughed and slapped him on the back.
"I suppose we shall have just to go and stomp that squid into jelly!" Lieutenant Donaldson announced with a fierce grin. "The word just came from Buckingham Palace. We're to engage the creature immediately!"
Wildly cheering, the soldiers threw their hats into the air. Some hugged, others brandished fists at the sky, while one Welsh fellow broke into an impromptu jig.
"All right, my rough riders, mount up!" Lieutenant Donaldson called, tightening the chinstrap on his plumed helmet. "Soon enough, that bleeding thing will meet the greatest fighting force ever forged by the entire human race."
"The Black Squad!" the soldiers cheered defiantly.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Shouting hurrahs, the soldiers and officers of the Black Squad raced to the tents at the rear of the stable. As the soldiers separated into teams, Lieutenant Donaldson and Sergeant Barta joined the troops heading for the first tent.
As the men of Alpha Team darted through the canvas flap, they slapped the shiny metal oval for good luck before stepping through. Once inside, the soldiers moved to their stations with subdued gestures. Space in the dome was at a premium for the twelve-man crew.
Crossing the corrugated iron floor, several of them paused to grab tools or insulated gloves from pegs welded to the riveted iron wall that curved upward to form the high domed ceiling. Clanking and clamoring, various machines filled the aft portion of the dome. In the center of the strange room was a trio of huge ball bearings set in a protective ironwork cage. At the front was a long curved window with a complex control panel and three high-backed chairs.
Turning around from the third seat, a sergeant in grimy overalls nodded in greeting, his hands never leaving the controls.
"She's ready to go, sir," the Sergeant-Engineer stated proudly. "We've got plenty of steam, fresh water, and coal, sir. Stocked to the gills, we are."
"Thank you, Chief Higgins," Lieutenant Donaldson replied, glancing around professionally. Everything seemed to be shipshape. "Carry on."
The other soldiers settled themselves into the chairs at their battle stations, with two going through an alcove at the rear of the machine. Shifting their gunbelts about, Lieutenant Donaldson and Sergeant Barta took the vacant chairs at the control board and strapped themselves in tight. Very tight. Nobody ever made the mistake of leaving the harness loose more than once.
Humming a battle tune, Lieutenant Donaldson worked the levers and dials on the board. "By the numbers, gentlemen!" he called, over a shoulder. "Sharply now, lads!"
"Boiler at three point two atmospheres!" a private shouted.
"Electric generator, smooth!" a corporal shouted.
"Gyroscope, stable!" a private whispered, massaging his sore throat.
"Pistons, primed!" an engineer shouted.
Sergeant Barta bellowed, nearly drowning out the growing thumps from the machinery in the rear of the dome. "We are good to go, at your command,shar!"
Moving his hands with the grace of a concert pianist, the Lieutenant deftly began throwing switches. Indicators became illuminated on the control board, gauges flicked into life, and several small panels began to radiate a soft glow.
"Half power, Chief Higgins, and watch the oil flow to number three piston," Lieutenant Donaldson said, twisting a brass rod to unlock it before plunging the control deep into the board. "Beginning primary sequence…now!"
Through the front window, the Lieutenant watched as the interior of the stable smoothly flowed past them. Reaching the outside, Donaldson turned the dome about to watch the other three tents glide from the barn like circus ghosts.
"We're going hard!" Lieutenant Donaldson announced, touching a button.
Now the view in the window rose dramatically. He could see the other tents lifting ten yards into the air, the canvas sheets sliding off the shiny machines underneath. Based upon the original design of the Venusian invaders, each machine was a flat-bottomed dome set on a tripod of jointed metal legs that ended in huge splayed disks.
Some refugees and soldiers passing by in the littered streets stopped to point and cry out in horror. A man, wearing only his nightgown and top hat, jerked to a halt at the sight that had been filling his nightmares since The Troubles strode through London destroying everything they found.
"Ye gods, they're back!" the man screamed, clutching at his chest.
Turning away from the rampaging squid, a hundred soldiers raised their rifles to fire at the Venusian war machine.
"No, by gum, look!" a dollymop cried out, pointing a stiff finger.
Brightly lit by the flickering orange glow of the burning city, the crowds could see that the walkers were painted a glossy black, with bright silver trimming the edges, and a plate was fastened to the front of each displaying the Royal Seal of England in pure gleaming gold. Painted along the side of each tripod was its name, just like any other ship in the Imperial British Navy: HMW Avenger , HMW Revenge , HMW Justice, HMW Destroyer. Then a flexible pole shot upward from the top of each machine, and the glorious crossed bars of a Union Jack unfurled.
"By jingo, they be ours!" a man cried, tears of relief pouring down his flabby cheeks. "Hurrah!"
"HMW?" a confused solicitor asked.
"Her Majesty's Walker!" a blacksmith shouted proudly, puffing out his chest.
With grace and power, the Black Squad strode smoothly past the Horse Guard parade grounds, and splashed through the small lake to reach the Strand. Constantly in motion, the tripods of legs stretched out and contracted with the gentle hiss of escaping steam. Everywhere they went, the Royal Walkers were followed by startled, and then cheering crowds.
Almost appearing to float, the towering tripods daintily stepped over a barricade of massed cannon and troops barring an intersection. At the sight, a victory shout broke out from the soldiers: a glorious cry that built in waves until the noise was almost tangible.
Defiantly, a major shook a fist towards the colossal squid in the distance. "Ah-HA! You big bastard! Eat…" Words failed him. What did they fire again, lead? Steel? Lightning?
"Eat it raw!" he ad-libbed with a flourish.
"Twice!" a brash young captain added fervently.
Beaming smiles, troops got their nervous horses out of the way as the Royal Walkers strode by, their great steel feet sinking a yard into the cobblestone street with each step. Somewhere in the city, a familiar keening started building into a moan, and then became a strident musical wail! As the gates slammed aside, an entire company of Scottish bagpipers marched smartly from the parade grounds to follow behind the British war machines. That alone was sufficient to bolster the confidence of the soldiers and civilians. Damn the impudence of the squid! Once more Great Britain would carry the day!
As the raucous Highlander musicians passed, a tweedy man turned to his neighbor, who hid the fact that he had just finished picking the other fellow's pocket.
"If nothing else, those pipers should throw a scare into that nasty blighter," the victim chuckled.
"The music drives 'em mad, it does," the thief agreed.
***
Without much ado, the sun crested the sky and the moon officially arrived above the war-torn the city.
Munching happily, the Squid God paused in the act of consuming the last of Her Royal Majesty's 56thFusilier Company and looked curiously around. Now what was that lovely music? Then the squid saw the first of the tripods stepping over a low building. The sight caused the squid to forget about the remaining soldiers, who quickly
used the precious opportunity to scurry to freedom.
Scowling darkly in concern, the squid stared at the armored things coming its way. Those looked suspiciously like fellow demons , the squid hooted thoughtfully. By the turning moon, he had not endured 4000 years of boredom just to share the goodies with a bunch of upstart newcomers!
Preparing to attack, the squid slowed. That was a good point to consider. He had been gone for 4000 years. Perhaps these approaching devils merely needed to be reminded of whom they were dealing with: the dreaded Colossus of Dutar! Fair enough. Humming softly, the squid began the first swaying movements of the traditional 'Fight or Scram' war dance.
***
Through the front windows of the HMW Revenge , Lieutenant Donaldson, Sergeant Barta, and the gunnery officer could only stare at the waltzing leviathan.
"What the deuce is it doing?" the gunnery officer muttered as the squid began to execute a flashy series of moves along the broken street.
"Who cares?" the Lieutenant replied savagely, throwing more switches. "Let's kill the smarmy thing."
"Magnetic lenses at medium aperture," Sergeant Barta announced, calmly adjusting some dials. "Range?"
"Four hundred yards and closing!" a corporal stated.
"Power?" Lieutenant Donaldson demanded, moving levers.
"Accumulators at ninety-nine per cent!" a private answered.
"Prepare to fire," the Lieutenant commanded. "On my mark!"
In spite of their safety harness, the crew grabbed convenient wall straps and prepared for the coming onslaught.
"Ready, and fire," Lieutenant Donaldson said calmly.
The gunnery officer pressed a switch with his thumb.
A tiny hatch flipped open at in the front of the Revenge , exposing a complex set of crystal lenses that started pulsing with light. Out lanced a brilliant rod of quasi-solid lightning: a burning, mauling power ray of raw atomic energy so thick and heavy that the walker actually recoiled from the thrust. Onlookers watched, dumbfounded, as the scalding beam shot across the sky towards the jitterbugging behemoth.
The Avenger and the Destroyer followed suit, the black domes bucking with each eruption of boiling plasma. Dodging between the burning buildings, the Justice circled inland and shot the gargantuan squid squarely from behind.
The four energy beams struck the squid dead center, and the monster became lost in the incandescent fury of the atomic barrage. Two of the rays accidentally touched each other, and a few drops of superheated matter sprayed outward to rain across the city. Falling onto rooftops, the tortured nuclei sizzled through stone and steel as if they were cheap French cheese - one of those nasty types that get soft at room temperature, and smell of dirty feet. Caught in the backwash of the mauling power beams, a nearby church melted into lava. Green trees visibly wilted from the titanic outpouring of heat. For just a moment, the thermal updraft cleared the smoky London sky.
As the searing beams were turned off, the population of the bedraggled city blinked a few times to clear their eyes, and then goggled in astonishment at the unbelievable sight of the giant squid still standing there. It appeared to be completely undamaged, and extremely annoyed.
"Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Buddha," Sergeant Barta whispered, going pale.
"Did we somehow miss?" Chief Higgins asked, loosening the top button on his starched collar.
"Must have. There is no other explanation," Lieutenant Donaldson stated, twisting the steering yoke. "What is our power status?"
"Accumulators at eighty percent, sir!" a private answered.
"Give me a status check," ordered the sergeant.
"Boiler pressure, steady!"
"Generator, steady!"
"Charge!"
***
With every limb flailing, the squid nimbly executed a particularly graceful leap, and then slipped on the molten church, to fall on its face with a loud unpleasant smack, like a duck being crushed by a cinderblock. Furiously embarrassed, the squid stood upright on all eight tentacles. So much for the niceties of society! Now this is personal! Spitting flame, the Squid God advanced upon the row of hissing metal tripods.
***
"Full power!" Lieutenant Donaldson ordered, twirling dials on the focusing mechanisms to minimum aperture.
In the window, he could see the other walkers, thick black smoke laced with red sparks pouring from the rear vents of the silver dome. In the aft of his own machine, a cursing team of privates shoveled coal into the main boiler until it was stoked to the danger level.
"Fire again!" Donaldson shouted, through clenched teeth. "And again, man!"
The volcanic beams lanced out once more, but the oncoming squid now actually seemed to absorb the energy blasts.
Gritting his teeth, Lieutenant Donaldson released the safety switches. "Continuous fire!" Donaldson commanded.
"Sir?" Sergeant Barta cried out in disbelief.
"Just do it!"
At pointblank range, the four burning rays of destruction slammed into huge beast. No mere burst this time, but steady streams of boiling plasma, the nuclear liquid tried its best to bore directly through the devilish squid! The towering monster disappeared as it became encased in a hellish nimbus of radiant power!
Then with a sputter, the beams stopped, and cold air from the river rushed inward to soothe the cooked atmosphere.
"Accumulators empty, sir!" a private announced, as the ceiling lights dimmed, closely followed by the indicators of the control panel.
"Battery power!" the Sergeant brusquely ordered.
At his station, a corporal threw a heavily insulated switch with an audible clunk. In gentle pulsations, the ceiling lights returned, but the control board stayed dark.
"On battery, sir!" Sergeant Barta reported.
"We need a minute to recharge," Lieutenant Donaldson said, thinking out loud. "All right, prepare for docking maneuvers!"
This was not the time to ask for explanations, so the Sergeant simply did as commanded, and fervently hoped the commander knew what the Hell he was doing. Docking maneuvers?
"Dock-ing man-neu-vers, hut!" Sergeant Barta chanted in a military cadence from his sweaty chair.
Tearing off their safety harnesses, the crewmembers rushed to the master control bank. In trained groups, the soldiers grabbed the huge levers and strained at the Herculean task of pushing them into the desired positions. With steam hissing from every joint in the telescoping legs, in slow, ragged stages the Royal Walker eased into a kneeling position and gently leaned against a smoldering building.
"Dead silence," the Lieutenant spoke softly. "First man to speak gets sixty lashes."
That truly startled the crew. It was the first time he had ever threatened any of them with corporal punishment. The soldiers heard the note of urgency in his usually calm voice. Could the situation already be that bad?
Retreating past their fallen comrade, the rest of the Black Squad maintained a constant barrage of short bursts as they steadily walked backwards. The weakening power rays splattered against the mottled hide of the squid with no noticeable effect.
***
Moving into the clearing between the Constitutional Club and the Victoria Hotel, the squid eagerly started for one of the metal tripods, when it was unexpectedly pummeled by a bombardment of high velocity shells from a flotilla of ships in the river. Again and again, the sixteen-inch guns spoke their violent language of destruction.
With explosions dotting its body, the squid blinked in surprise. The retreat had been a trap? Suspiciously, the monster looked down at the dead metal thing leaning against the burning building.
***
Instantly tilting the dome upward, the crew of the HMW Revenge let the beast have a fully recharged power blast directly in the left eye! Jerking its head out of the way of the sizzling beam, the squid ducked low, and then coiled a couple of tentacles about the legs of the machine. Lifting it high, the infuriated monster rushed forward and wildly hammered the other tripods with the one in its grasp, wield
ing it as if it were a club. The ringing cacophony of the attack was beyond deafening.
In a shower of glass, the front window of the Revenge shattered. Dead soldiers fell out to hit the ground with a sickening thud. Even while falling through the air, Lieutenant Donaldson showed true British bravado. He fired his Webley .455 service revolver into the towering beast until he landed on a surprisingly soft and spongy mat. Egad, I'm standing on a tentacle! Emptying his pistol, the Lieutenant drew his sword and charged along the limb, hacking and slashing.
Swatting at tentacle six with the smoking tripod, the squid brushed away the annoying little thing, and resumed brutally smashing the other machines.
Spinning at full RPMs, the gyroscopes of the walkers tore free from their stout housings and burst out of the machines to spin away like mad tops. As the squid continued savagely pounding away, the domes cracked, generators shorted out, and fat blue sparks crackled over the Royal Walkers until they went dark. Soon, steam could be seen wafting from the gaping rents in the dome, closely followed by the stink of roasting human flesh.
The squid sneered in contempt. Yeah, right . Not falling for that old trick again, the monster continued to hammer all of the walkers until the things fell apart. Then the squid danced on the broken pieces until nothing remained except crimson-smeared debris.
***
Standing on the front lawn of the museum, Professor Einstein, Mary, and Lord Carstairs used field glasses to watch the ghastly end of the unequal battle. The billowing smoke from the carnage rose to form a horrid funeral shroud over the doomed city.
"This is absolutely amazing!" Professor Einstein muttered, lowering the field glasses. Biting a lip, the professor pulled out a spare keychain to rub his new lucky dinosaur tooth. "Our heat rays are capable of reaching over two thousand degrees Kelvin. That's the surface temperature of the sun! There is no possible way any organic matter should be able to withstand that kind of thermal assault!"
Lowering the glasses, Mary arched an eyebrow. "But, uncle," she began slowly, and then added, "I thought that you had said the creature is magical…"
THAT DARN SQUID GOD Page 29