An Atlantean Triumvirate

by C. Craig R. McNeil

  Murdoch groaned quietly to himself at the thought of going back up to the surface and facing another bout of sea sickness so soon, soothing himself with the thought that the boring summit would soon be over. The summit was supposed to last around five days but the Americans were capitulating completely, showing a total lack of backbone.

  He stirred. He could feel the life forces again but this time more clearly as his pets skittered through the broken tunnels, closing in on the vibrant shining energy. He lusted for this energy. He lusted for what he once had so long ago. Life. He could feel the blood lust in his pets, their desire to kill and feed after so long. The desire for fresh, bloody meat permeated their brains. With skilful touches he calmed their desires, caressing their neurones and feeding their need to kill and destroy.

  Murdoch strolled back to his quarters scanning his brief notes as he did so, flicking through the few pages he’d written in his brief cryptic scrawl. As a spy it wasn’t necessarily a good thing to have neat legible handwriting. As he strolled along he found himself distracted by New Atlantis. It was an amazing place, once the pinnacle of British engineering, now overtaken by the Channel Bridge and the stunning neo-gothic architecture of the vast Na Din airship base at Calcutta. Quite wrongly so, Murdoch thought. This bustling city of scientists, miners, the necessary support industries and all the wives and families existed deep under the waves isolated from the safety net of the Empire save for the continued presence of the Renown and the commercial submersibles that brought in supplies from Blighty. It was an amazing place built up the past three decades from being solely a scientific research base to the mining city it was now. Murdoch found it hard to understand how a city built from galvanised iron and glass could survive the enormous pressures but survive it did and thrive it had done. The miners contributed enormous amounts of iron and gold to the Empire’s economy, constructing incredible mining operations within the Mid Atlantic Ridge. The scientists contributions to the history of the world were read around the globe with fascination and envy. Very few foreigners were allowed to tread the hallowed halls of New Atlantis and its far older sibling, Atlantis as once the Nucleus had been discovered all foreign expeditions had been banned indefinitely.

  Strands of an argument filtered out from a behind a half closed door. Murdoch’s ears pricked excitedly. American voices were complaining loudly about there being no need for inspections and British voices were complaining equally loudly about the definite need for inspections. So this is where they were discussing the need to inspect the Khadrae breeding site in the US. Murdoch had no doubt that Britain would win this one as well. He wondered how they would get on with the insistence that Britain would provide military support to the neutral inspectors. The US was notorious for detesting foreign military on their territory as the Mexicans had found out to their cost a few years back. Not his problem though and he’d find out the resulting compromise soon enough.

  Passing through a few military checkpoints Murdoch ended up in the Great Hall of New Atlantis, a spectacular glass dome covered area which served as the main commercial region. The large stone edifice of a Lloyds bank dominated the far end of the circle. Jam packed up against the iron plate walls of the dome around the edge of the Great Hall stood a huge variety of shops, public bars and even two hotels. In the centre of the circle stood a tall pedestal upon which the stone figure of Sir Nicholas Rochester gazed out towards the thick glass panels and beyond to his discovery, Atlantis. Market stalls surrounded the statue, selling everything from exotic fruit and vegetables to brightly coloured ribbons and threads.

  The noise was deafening as a mass of humanity swirled around, ebbing and flowing to and from the shops, public bars, banks and the many entrances in to the Great Hall. Miners congregated in groups, swapping stories about mother lodes that they’d found and then lost, maids and wives mingled, gossiping as if their lives depended on it and, here and there, scientists of all sorts reeled homewards after a particularly heavy session of discussing the vagaries of Atlantean history, its technology and its people, avoiding the gritty glares of the local police. And the heat was unbelievable. Murdoch could feel the sweat trickling down under his collar already. At least it wasn’t cold like Greenland. One should be thankful for small mercies, Murdoch heard Nanny say.

  It felt quite odd to have such a normal, every day scene that was replicated in villages, towns and cities across the Empire, down here at the base of an underwater mountain. Murdoch looked up at the incongruous dark waters pressing against the glass above seeing the vaguely lit curvature of the main dome of New Atlantis, the peak of which he had been at just a few minutes before. It felt like dusk, a permanent semi darkness only vaguely held at bay by hundreds of gas and oil fuelled lamps coupled with many harsh electric light bulbs. The fugue from the fossil fuel lamps rose up in a soft smoky cloud to the ceiling where extractor fans pulled the fumes out of the room, the streaming clouds further lending to the illusion that everyone was walking about under a night sky. The entrances to the Great Hall were large oval doorways, similar to ones Murdoch had seen in cathedrals, surrounded by ornate brass and stonework depicting scenes from British history and mythology. One doorway was guarded by imposing sculptures of King Arthur and Sir Lancelot, another depicted St George with a lance preparing to strike a long necked flaming dragon, yet another commemorated the heroes of Sevastopol, another the duel between the great Red and White Dragons. It would take many hours to fully appreciate the workmanship involved in all the carvings.

  Now. Reap their life energy…

  Someone screamed. A woman. A high pitched sound of fear and shock. Murdoch frowned and peered in the direction of the scream. The crowd fell silent, all turning in the direction of the scream that was amplified and reflected by the dome that covered them. The local police were already making their way towards the source, truncheons drawn. Murdoch saw their peaked helmets bobbing through the crowd. More screams. There was shouting now and Murdoch could see the crowd starting to surge back away from the source of the screams. Dark heads were bobbing up and down in the distance. What was going on here? Although crime wasn’t unknown in New Atlantis it was rare. Stuffing his notes into his jacket pocket, Murdoch drew his service revolver and pushed his way through the massed crowd. The further he went in, the louder the cries and the harder the surge to the exits was. Where were the policemen? Murdoch couldn’t see them any more. But now above the screams of terror and the panicked shouting of the people around him he could hear shrill inhuman cries. No… Not here… There’s too many people… What the bloody hell were the Americans up to? And then the crowd thinned suddenly and the slaughter was apparent.

  Khadrae, and lots of them, feasted on the remains of what were once citizens of New Atlantis, ripping and swallowing bloody chunks of flesh with terrible rending sounds. A crowd of miners piled out of a nearby pub brandishing makeshift clubs made from broken tables and chairs. They immediately attacked the nearest Khadrae beating it savagely. One or two men fell to desperate slashes from the Khadrae but it finally succumbed to their blows. Emboldened by their success the miners cheered and turned looking for another target. The fools should have gone back into the pub and barred the doors. They advanced on a beast nearby that had its head deep in the guts of a corpse but it must have heard them because its eyeless head jerked up towards them, hissing as it did so from its bloody maw. Another Khadrae lopped forward to stand beside its peer. And then another. And another. Wisely the miners decided that retreat was the best form of defence and scrambled fearfully back to the safety of the pub. They were lucky in that only four of them got caught, screaming in agony as they were ripped apart alive.

  Murdoch shook himself, annoyed to catch himself gawping like a schoolboy. But still! Khadrae! In New Atlantis! There would be a slaughter. The policemen were dead that was for sure. He could see the shreds of their uniforms lying under the hooked feet of the Khadrae gorging themselves in front of him. Where was the local police station? Over there, next to the gro
cers. Murdoch sprinted over cursing to himself for advancing straight down the middle of the Great Hall instead of round the sides like any other well trained agent would have done. He yelled at the stunned grocer to get inside and lock his doors. The balding man took one look at Murdoch’s gun and obliged immediately, slamming down wooden shutters and banging his front door closed spilling loose vegetables onto the street.

  Running up the short flight of steps Murdoch ran straight into the police station pushing the sturdy iron door shut behind him.

  “Hey you! What d’you think you’re doing?” protested an angry sergeant from behind the front desk.

  “My name is Murdoch. I’m an MI6 agent. Lock this door immediately. Where is your superintendent?”

  “Eh? What?” stuttered the bewildered sergeant.

  “Listen to me very carefully,” said Murdoch slowly trying hard not to get angry. “Out there people are getting slaughtered by some weird foreign creature. We have to help them. Call for the superintendent, lock this door and get me a phone line to Governor Mitchell straight away.”

  “Foreigners is it?” said the sergeant as he placed a very brief call to his superintendent, “Knew we shouldn’t have had those bloody Americans here.”

  The superintendent ran down from his office upstairs strapping on a gunbelt as he did so. He’d obviously been well briefed on the summit because he saluted Murdoch hurriedly once he’d seen Murdoch’s papers.

  “What the hell is going on Mr Murdoch? We have to get out there straight away and stop those foreign beasts. I saw them from my office window. I called for reinforcements straight away. Governor Mitchell had thought the Americans might try something like this.”

  “Will they be armed?” asked Murdoch tapping his fingers on the counter of the front office.

  “Armed? Good God, no. We’ll have truncheons. I’ll have this…,” he tapped his revolver, “… which will be more than enough to see off those strange beasts.”

  “You must be joking. I know what those things are, Superintendent. They will slaughter your men without breaking sweat. They will be annihilated.”

  The superintendent started to protest but was interrupted by the sergeant informing Murdoch that his call to Governor Mitchell was connected.

  Covering the mouthpiece, Murdoch said to the superintendent, “If you have any weapons in this place, guns, shotguns, rifles, anything then arm your men now. No. I mean it. Now. Get them armed and get them up onto the roof of this building and anything else two storeys or over and get them shooting at those things. On no accounts is anyone to go out on foot at ground level. Now.” Murdoch looked the superintendent firmly in the eye before putting the phone to his ear.

  “Governor Mitchell, we have a serious problem…”

  “Yes, Mr Murdoch, it’s all in hand. We’ve placed the American delegates under house arrest just now until we’ve dealt with the situation…”

  “No, Governor Mitchell, it is not in hand. Do not send your reinforcements. Close off all entrances to the Great Hall but do not send in any policemen.”

  “Mr Murdoch,” said the Governor condescendingly, “I can assure you that the New Atlantis Police Force is more than capable of dealing a few mad creatures.”

  “Listen to me you blithering idiot. I have just seen far too many of your citizens, men, women and children being eaten by the filth that is out there. I will have your job if you send any more poor fools in here to die. Do you understand?” Murdoch almost screamed down the phone. He could feel the eyes of the sergeant on him but he just ignored him.

  There was a silence at the other end of the phone line. Governor Mitchell obviously wasn’t used to being talked to like this. Good, thought Murdoch.

  “Now, I want you to contact Captain Riley of the security detachment and tell him that there are Khadrae on the loose in the Great Hall. He may not believe you but assure him that that is indeed the case. I would advise you to put Captain Riley in temporary charge of operations as he has experience in dealing with the creatures. Furthermore, I would also advise you to break out weapons to the police force. Do not take this lightly. The creatures will kill everyone in New Atlantis if they can and it will be hell to stop them.”

  “Very well, Mr Murdoch. On your head be it.” And Governor Mitchell hung up. Gosh. Another bureaucrat’s nose out of joint. Another one for the collection.

  Murdoch heard shots from the upstairs of the police station. Those blasted coffee drinkers would suffer for this. He would personally make sure they would. The Americans had got away with far too much. This was the final straw.

  He could feel the life forces of each kill nourishing it, making him stronger. His pets had done well. He could feel the energy surrounding his pets now, the strength of the life energy glow was almost too much to bear. He could soon be free from this prison beneath the ocean! Freedom to take on the world and suck its life energy, freedom to roam at will, surrounded by his beloved pets, growing stronger and stronger. He would soon be free. Soon...

  14 The Battle at the Bottom of the Sea

  Riley stood in front of the great sealed oval doors leading into the Great Hall. Designed to hold back the freezing waters of the Atlantic Ocean, they were at least a foot thick, heavily reinforced with steel rods. They were also very ornate with a large bronze relief of Britannia set into the centre and numerous minor British deities staring out from around the frame. The decorative effect was ruined slightly, Riley thought, by the steaming pipes surrounding the door. At least it was keeping the Khadrae in the Great Hall.

  Governor Mitchell had relayed Murdoch’s warning to Riley. With much fuss and random threats especially from the American secret service agents, Riley had ensured that the Americans house arrest was much more than that, imprisoning them within their rooms behind locked and guarded doors. He still couldn’t believe that the Americans had managed to smuggle the Khadrae onboard New Atlantis. There must be something wrong with security there but it wasn’t his problem just now. His problem was how to deal with the Khadrae. Only he and Nightshade Division had the knowledge to defeat the creatures. From what he could gather there were still over a thousand people trapped in the Great Hall with the Khadrae. A slaughter must be averted. If only they had brought their power armour with them but no one had ever dreamed that it would be needed especially for use against Khadrae.

  The phone lines were still in action and Murdoch had estimated there were at least four hundred Khadrae in there. More had poured in from wherever they were coming from and it wasn’t looking good. Decisions had been made. They could wait until the regular army turned up with their heavy weaponry by which time they would have a thousand corpses on their hands and the Khadrae would probably have disappeared. Plus Murdoch would be dreadfully peeved at getting killed. Or they could go in now to initiate a rescue. Riley scanned his troops. Twenty policemen stood behind him armed with Lee Enfield rifles. They didn’t seem too sure of themselves, licking their lips nervously and fiddling with their unfamiliar rifles. Corporal Johnston stood to Riley’s left, checking and rechecking his Sten sub machine gun. Riley could feel the calming weight of his own sub machine gun under his left arm. He would have been far far happier if he’d been in his power armour. He didn’t fancy this fight with the Khadrae at all. Taking a deep breath he pulled himself together and checked his watch. One minute to go until the doors were automatically opened by the New Atlantis technicians. Sergeant Paddock commanded another troop of police officers at another entrance to the Great Hall, ready to act when the doors swung open.

  Riley faced the policemen and spoke quickly, mentally whipping himself for not having done his motivational speech earlier.

  “Listen up men,” Riley’s voice carried over the hissing from the steam that poured from the pipes lining the walls. The policemen stopped their nervous fiddling and stood quietly facing him. “You will face creatures that you will not have seen before. They are extremely dangerous and will kill you without hesitation. Normally, I would not be send
ing you into the battle you are going into, but many innocent people have died and many more are at risk. It is down to us to save them. You are not to take any risks, you are to stay together and at no point are you to engage the Khadrae except from long range. Shoot from a distance. That’s all. Good luck.”

  And with that steam hissed and flooded across the door as it split in two and rolled back, bathing the wide corridor with a warm golden light from the Great Hall. With both the steam and light momentarily blinding them all, they heard the harsh screeches right in front of them and then the Khadrae were on them powering through them like dark avenging angels.

  It was pure instinct, a sense that something was coming through the air at him that made Riley twist just in time to avoid being impaled by twin scythes attached to a muscular and lithe body. The Khadrae snapped at Riley as it shot past, bloody razor sharp teeth clicking together a scant inch in front of Riley’s nose leaving behind a rancid smell of rotten flesh.

  “Christ! Fall back! Someone shut the blasted doors!” Riley yelled to no one in particular. He could see the policemen getting torn apart in gouts of blood and dismembered limbs. So much havoc and death caused by only four Khadrae.

  The policemen were running for their lives, but not all of them. A small group were kneeling and taking aim, loosing off shots. They got one Khadrae but at the expense of two of their colleagues caught in the hail of shots.