by T. A. Uner
“It appears your brethren have managed to reroute power and use it to overload the master computer.” Ambrogio pointed to the readout on one of the monitors, Drek nodded, the whirlpools in his eye-sockets grew active, resembling cyclones.
“Order them to the Black Room,” Ambrogio said. Drek’s whirlpools ceased for a moment while he relayed their location to the other Hollow Men.
“I’m afraid you’re too late.”
That voice. But how? Before Ambrogio could draw his Black Cube he felt a sharp object pierce his wrist. His hand dropped to the floor as blood spurted from his wrist. He gritted his teeth when Vampiress emerged behind a computer terminal. He cursed and waved his bloody stump angrily at her. “You!” he said, turning to Drek. “Kill that bitch!”
But Drek stood in his spot, motionless.
Ambrogio did not know why his charge was not responding to his orders.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he hissed. “I said kill that fucking bitch!”
“It’s no use, Ambrogio,” Vampiress said. “I was able to deactivate their command functions. It was quite simple, once I gained access to this room of course.”
Ambrogio cursed his luck. She must’ve used some sort of program loophole to get through the Black Room’s security net when main power went out. Not an easy task, but he had underestimated her technical skill with computers. Still, he had one last play to make. “Computer,” he said. “Commence self-destruct sequence. Command code: Ambrogio.”
The computer’s voice came alive and asked for the remaining pass codes. Ambrogio spat out a sequence of codes before countdown commenced. “Now the game is over, Vampiress.” Ambrogio smiled. “Your arrogance has doomed you again. First, your brother, now you! Your father will have no heir to carry his line.”
Vampiress returned his smile. “I doubt that.” She turned toward Drek. “As you already know, Ambrogio, in the event of the Section Chief being rendered implacable, Hollow Men have been programmed with the necessary subroutines to take command. And since you haven’t changed their pass code, I was able to. Drek,” she said in an authoritative voice, “deactivate the self-destruct sequence. Command code: Vampiress Override One.”
Drek’s eyes became active again and seconds later the countdown ceased. “Now Drek,” Vampiress said as Ambrogio looked on dejectedly, “eliminate Chief Ambrogio. Command code: Vampiress Override two.”
Drek drew his Black Cube and aimed it at Ambrogio, who muttered a series of expletive at Vampiress before he was blasted into oblivion.
When the remaining Watchers arrived at the scene, they were confronted by their new Section leader. Vampiress ordered them to clean up Ambrogio’s remains and dump it in the back alley. No one dissented.
{3}
When Lok learned of the coup d’état at section headquarters he did not question it. He would be fooling himself if he thought it was not inevitable. Everyone assigned to this mission knew of the strained relationship between Ambrogio and Vampiress. From a neutral standpoint it was only a matter of time before the struggle played itself out.
He would do his best to please his new leader. He knew what Vampiress was capable of, to oppose her would condemn him to an early grave; he had a family to think about.
He was a moderate, with no love for extremist politics. Having been forced into his position he would be glad when this assignment was over. Not all Vampires from the Diaspora supported The Sect. Especially now that the Hollow Men were about.
Lok wished he could rebel and do something to end this madness. What The Sect was doing to various sentient races across the galaxy was no different then what Reptokk had done to his people after they had gone to war with the Lizard Colony back on Kaotika.
He had heard rumors of an underground movement called The Grand Militia, organized by someone Named Archon. The Militia was a guerrilla force opposed to The Sect’s genocidal policies, and was made up of various races across hundreds of star systems. There were even rumors of Vampires joining up to end Sect rule. Lok hoped they would prevail.
But he did not know whom to speak to express his anti-Sect feelings. Even considering sedition against The Sect meant a permanent trip to a mining colony, or, to be tortured to death. If he spoke to the wrong person he would be putting himself and his family at risk.
He sighed and checked the controls. He had nothing against Blood — it was a machine, incapable of emotion — only those who had perverted its use for evil. If the humans of this era only knew what was transpiring on their planet. The Sect had taken all necessary precautions by infiltrating the appropriate positions in London Government and recruiting human collaborators looking for quick profit. So, unless a Grand Militia cell was in the vicinity, the humans of this reality were doomed.
It made him sick. He left the cab and sighed before heading to the dining car. The bartender there, a Vampire named Flick, smiled at him. His brown hair was slicked back against his skull and he was dressed in a white tuxedo shirt and black vest. A red bow-tie completed his uniform.
“Another long day, Lok?” he said. “What can I get you?”
“Kaotikan Black wine.” Lok sighed. “Better make that two bottles, 8751 to be exact.”
Flick poured him a glass. “You definitely know your vintage, my friend. The Sect must be paying you well.”
Lok bypassed the glass and downed the bottle. Much to Flick’s amusement. “My, my.” Flick wagged his finger. “You’re either very thirsty, or you have a lot on your mind, Lok.”
“Perhaps I do, Flick.” Lok wiped his mound against his sleeve. He nodded and Flick brought him the second bottle. He downed that as well and felt himself relax a bit. Yet his mind wandered back to his thoughts of insurrection; he had an idea.
“Flick, you’ve worked for The Sect for quite some time. How have they treated you?”
Flick eyed him over the rim of a large goblet he was polishing. He flashed his trademark smile, revealing his pointed vampire teeth. “No complaints…for now…but even if I did it wouldn’t be safe to mention it, here.”
Lok nodded. Flick was assuming a neutral viewpoint. Not putting himself in a dangerous position by making disdainful comments about his employer, but at the same time he wasn’t endorsing them as well. Lok decided he’d try his luck. “What if you did have a problem with The Sect, Flick?”
Flick continued polishing his glasses. “Depends on who I was talking to?” He was playing it safe, soaking up what Lok had to say. Still, Lok’s conscience urged him on.
Right before Lok gave his answer a Hollow Man entered the dining car and walked past the bar. Flick smiled at him. “Morning, Volz.” The Hollow Man stopped and shot a vacuous look at Flick before continuing on to the next car. After Volz left Lok spoke: “What if I told you I was looking for a way out of my predicament?”
Flick studied Lok’s eyes. Lok wished he had taken his telepathy classes seriously during his formative years in school. That way he could’ve read Flick’s mind. He focused hard but could not pluck a single thought from the bartender’s brain. “I’d say you were looking for trouble, Lok.”
Lok nodded. He was already in too deep, any more pushing and he would expose his true intentions. Better to back off, he was still in the clear if he quit now.
“But I’d also say that you’re quite brave for risking detection.” Flick glanced around the dining car before leaning in closer. “Are you looking to make some sort of connection, Lok?”
Lok nodded. “As long as I knew I was in friendly territory. Perhaps.”
Flick smiled again. He placed the glass down on the bar counter and rubbed his thumb across a green gemstone ring he wore on his forefinger. “Now we can have a friendly chat, with no interruptions.”
Flick is part of the underground! “You’re sure we’re safe now?” Lok added.
“This ring has a dampening field embedded in it. We can talk for under a minute before I have to shut it off. Don’t want the Hollow Men to think their detection devices are being screwed with. Now, Lok, what can
I do for you.”
Lok whispered: “Can you help me get out of this?”
“I can. But we would ask for something in return.”
“I don’t know.” Lok looked around nervously. “I have a family to consider.”
“Yet, you risked both yourself and them by talking to me.”
Flick was right. Lok had risked much. And now was not the time to back out. “All right, Flick.”
Flick grinned. “First, you’d need to transmit a destination report.”
“To who?”
“A friend of mine.”
“Militia man?”
“Shhhh,” Flick said. “You trying to get us killed? What if I didn’t have this ring?”
“I’ll transmit it,” Lok agreed. “Just tell me when and where.”
“We’ll talk some more, later,” Flick said.
The door to the dining car opened again. This time four red-shirted Hollow Men barged in. The lead one approached Lok and Flick, Black Cube in hand. Lok remained cool and nursed his bottle, but Flick only smiled. “Welcome dear fellows. Beautiful day for a train ride.”
“We detected a dampening field onboard the train,” the Lead Hollow Man said. “We’re conducting an extensive search for its origin.”
Flick broke out an expensive bottle of French Champagne. He poured a glass. “In that case let us celebrate your dedication to duty.”
{4}
With Robert still missing, and the Vampire woman nowhere to be found, Jack found himself spending more of his free time alone with the bottle.
He had never been a heavy-drinker, more of a social one, but the double blow of losing Robert and Mercedes’ departure had been too much for his ego to bear. Add to that Scotland Yard’s growing suspicions and Jack was fortunate to have remained sane.
Various suspects had already been summoned by Swanson for questioning, but ultimately none could be tied to the murders.
What Jack found odd was the way Seamus had disappeared. He had called on the Irishman’s office more than three times in the past week and had no success.
Jack also found himself under continued surveillance. At first he did not notice, then one night, while out hunting the Vampire woman, he had spotted a man with a top hat following him from a distance. Just to be sure Jack had visited The Sword & Lion and sure enough after a few minutes he saw the same man sitting at a corner table, shadowing him. It appeared Swanson still considered him a prime suspect: and with the “Dear Boss” letter being signed “Jack the Ripper,” how could he not?
All this contestation brought him back to his days as a young Army Lieutenant serving in South Africa in 1880. He had fought in the First Anglo-Boer war against the soldiers of the Transvaal, until he had been wounded at the battle of Bronkhorstspruit. Ultimately the Boers, no more than guerrilla fighters, had repulsed the mighty British Army. He thought harder. How could a group of Boers, mainly farmers, defeat the world’s greatest empire?
Using reverse thinking would be the key to finding his quarry. Up until now he had thought like an Englishman, trying his best to utilize his lay of the city. But he needed to start thinking like a Vampire. And what did Vampires crave most?
Blood.
Checking the hospital would be a good start. But it might attract unwanted attention. Besides, this Vampire woman stalked her prey at night, and for some strange reason the women killed were prostitutes.
The key to finding her lay right under his nose, yet, he had ignored it until now. His heart raced in anticipation for nightfall to come so he could test his new strategy.
Jack put away his drink and brewed some coffee. After a long nap he felt refreshed and when the moon appeared in the night sky he got dressed and went outside, making sure he did not have a pursuer tracking him tonight.
He had a vampire to catch.
{5}
Mercedes sat on the balcony of her family’s villa, overlooking the Iberian sea. The warm sun rays sparkled atop the surface of the water. Ships of commerce coming and going, like busy ants, from Barcelona’s busy seaport.
“What are you thinking of, sister?” Mercedes’ younger sister, Annabelle asked in Catalan, the indigenous language of the region.
Mercedes knew her sister meant well, but the question was illogical: how could she think of anything else other than Jack?
He had always been a strange man, attracted to things she could never quite follow, such as medical journals and chess — while she preferred the theater and equestrian activities. Perhaps being polar opposites had brought them together.
But she was under intense pressure from her family to return to London. Her coming here had already attracted enough attention from neighboring families, and her social circles were no doubt abuzz with gossip, attempting to pick apart her estrangement from Jack. Mercedes had to admit she was surprised by her own behavior.
She knew she couldn’t stay here much longer, not because her family did not want her or were ashamed to house her after she’d left Jack, but they were staunch Catholics, and Mercedes, despite being raised in fairly liberal surroundings, was expected to be a loyal wife.
Living over nine hundred miles south of your husband was not the action of a devoted wife.
Two days later, after spending much time thinking about her future, she decided to buy passage back to London aboard a passenger liner headed for Southampton.
She had Annabelle and one of her attendants accompany her. Her younger sister had always wanted to visit England, and Mercedes needed the emotional support Annabelle would offer during the voyage home to London.
Little did Mercedes know that someone very dangerous had dispatched two Hollow Men to stalk her. Disguised as Spaniards they tracked her every move and when they learned of her impending journey to England they contacted their new mistress to request instruction.
So it was on the second day of the sea voyage that Mercedes’ attendant was murdered in her cabin aboard the luxury liner Ceylon. Annabelle was spared, not out of Mercy, the Hollow Men were not known for that, but rather because they did not wish to wake Mercedes before they used a controlled anomaly to abduct her and bring her to Vampiress in London.
• • •
When Mercedes awoke she was cold. Her wrists hurt and when she looked up she saw they were bound tightly with rope, herself dangling in air like a slab of meat at a butcher’s shop.
No wonder she was cold — she had been stripped bare. No, this cannot be happening! she thought. She closed her eyes again before re-opening them. Unfortunately it wasn’t a dream.
Two shadows. No, three, approached her. She could hear the echoing of heels against the concrete floor. Only a dim, hazy light offered illumination in this dungeon. Her hands were numb, and she feared that her circulation would choke the life out of them.
Finally the three shadowy figures stopped just below her. She felt her body being lowered to the floor. Slowly the three figures came into view. The one in the middle: a woman with long black hair and pasty skin, high cheekbones, and a curved nose; she wore a crimson corset above leather breeches and thick boots.
“Comfortable?” she asked.
“Where are my traveling companions?” Mercedes asked.
“One is dead.” Vampiress smiled. “But I spared your sister. Having lost a younger sibling myself, I know the pain.”
“Where am I?”
Vampiress removed one of her leather gloves and back-handed Mercedes’ jaw. She felt her neck snap backwards like a spring. For a few moments the room revolved around her; her three captors resembling a demonic carousel. “We ask the questions here, my dear. Remember that. I would hate to be forced into disfiguring that lovely face of yours. Why Jack would never forgive me. Which brings me to my next point. I’ll need more information on your beloved husband, things that aren’t already in our database.”
Mercedes glanced at Vampiress in a vexatious manner. “You can’t get — ”
Vampiress slapped her again. This time across her other cheek,
her body jerked backwards and she felt like her spine would crack.
“My dear you really must learn, restraint; be glad I am only hitting you at a fraction of my physical strength, otherwise, your head would’ve long been detached from your neck. Now, let us begin again…information on Jack.”
Mercedes whispered incoherently. “Speak up dear,” Vampiress chided. When the whispering continued, the Vampire woman leaned in closer to hear her words.
Mercedes spat blood in Vampiress’ face. She wiped the stringy blood from her face. “I can tell you are going to be difficult.” She raised her gloved hand again and struck Mercedes’ chin.
{6}
“Don’t get me wrong, Seamus, I’m grateful for you saving my life, but, I don’t believe a word of it.”
After the explosion Seamus had gone to investigate. He had found a severely injured Robert limping from the smoking ruins of the warehouse; Seamus was amazed at how someone could’ve survived such an ordeal. Not having the proper medical facilities available in 1888, he had been forced to blow his cover, and transport Robert to a secret medical facility on Atlas. From that point on, things had become complicated.
“It’s all true, Robert,” Seamus replied. “You can’t tell me that this sort of technology exists in 1888 London? How else could I have transported you through time-space in a matter of seconds?” Around them various holographic screens listed Robert’s vital signs. A robotic arm worked on the Englishman’s shattered arm while he lay fastened to an operating table.
Robert knew the Irishman was right. But was Seamus truly an Irishman? Or posing as one. Robert was a trained detective; it was his nature to question things that did not seem right. He still had more questions to ask. “Where did you say we were?”
“Fifty miles beneath the surface of a planet named Atlas.”
“Atlas?”