An Atlantean Triumvirate

by C. Craig R. McNeil

  Murdoch’s strained voice hissed into Riley’s headphones, “Send in the tanks. Go to it. We’re depending on you Riley. Don’t let me down. King and country and all that.”

  “King and country,” replied Riley and signed off.

  Nothing like being put in charge to make you feel the pressure, thought Riley to himself waving for the first tank to go forward down into the wide hole that gaped jaggedly ahead. The bulk of the Behemoth heavy tank rose high above even Nightshade clad in their cold power armour, churning up the compacted snow and ice with its three yard wide caterpillar tracks as it slowly eased its way down the steep slope into the crudely cut rock tunnel. The super heavy battle tanks were each the height of a good sized two storey house. The thirty yard long giants sported a single central turret armed with twin six inch calibre cannon. Each side of the tanks held a sponsoon on which was fixed a three inch cannon and a heavy machine gun. The sharply sloping armour was proof against the best weapons any enemy would expose them to. Any human enemy that is.

  Another Behemoth followed into the gaping maw, its multiple turrets pointed resolutely forward ready to take on anything the Core could throw at it.

  Riley and five of Nightshade stood exposed to the winds and cold on the back of a standard eight ton truck with another three trucks holding the remaining members of the unit standing close by. Two more trucks could be seen sprinting across the ice plain carrying twenty soldiers between them. Above, transporters could be seen shuttling more troops down from the Morrigan. Riley wanted to wait until the Black Watch battalion had arrived on the Minotaur but time was of the essence and they had to go in now with the pitiful amount of troops they had. At least the Behemoths would even the odds.

  Riley banged on the roof of the truck cab denting it slightly. “Move out! Let’s go!”

  Riley worried about the unprotected driver, Murphy was his name, being exposed to enemy elements but Nightshade would just have to ensure no enemy elements got near him.

  Murphy guided the truck down the slope, delicately adjusting the heavy truck as it slipped and slid on the compacted ice. Flood lights on the two Behemoths illuminated the wide tunnel both ahead and behind providing plenty of illumination to see any potential enemies. Riley had issued strict orders to shoot first, ask questions later. No risks. No time.

  The Behemoths belched noxious diesel fumes as they rumbled down the tunnel gallery causing many of the following soldiers to feel nauseous and light headed. Riley noticed it was getting warmer the further along they went. He could feel his fingers for the first time in a long time and he flexed them, grateful for small mercies. He was going into battle but if he died at least he would be warm. Riley grinned beneath the heavy all enclosing helmet that he wore. “Have to quit all these morbid thoughts,” he muttered to himself. The division motto flashed through his head – 'Victory or Death'. Riley hoped for victory today.

  The wide tunnel never veered from its direct path downwards but the roof rose higher and higher as the convoy trundled along. A red glow was making itself felt, a slow pulsing beat of red light that hovered on the edge of Riley’s vision before fading away again. It was becoming stronger as they progressed further.

  “Captain Riley, sir, the tunnel is opening up ahead. I can see movement,” said the crackly and unusually muted voice of the commander of the first Behemoth whose name temporarily escaped Riley much to his consternation. He was also concerned about the radios which had been playing up since they entered the tunnel, popping and fuzzing, as if the coterie of tanks and soldiers were great distances apart.

  “Fire at will, commander,” ordered Riley as he signalled to his troops. God help them all. They didn’t know how big this complex was, where the Core was or even what the thing looked like. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack and one that was on fire at that.

  The heavy machine guns mounted on the Behemoth clattered into action, followed by several booming roars as the Behemoth’s big guns threw out their warnings, rivulets of dust trembling down from the roof above as they did so. Riley was frustrated at not being able to see what they were shooting at. He hoped the reinforcements were well on their way by now. What was that…?

  Four humanoid shapes detached themselves from the shadows on the roof of the tunnel and dropped down onto the two trucks holding the soldiers following Nightshade, two shapes for each truck. Riley saw flashes of light shining on wicked blades that twinkled and flickered as they rose and fell so fast they blurred, spraying blood over the walls of the tunnel. Riley doubted the soldiers had time to register their surprise before they died.

  Johnston was in the third truck of the convoy in front of the two trucks of soldiers being attacked. He saw two creatures eliminate ten battle hardened soldiers each in a matter of mere seconds. These creatures were no Khadrae. They were something far more deadly. They looked human, but no human could be so fast or so strong. The driver of the truck had died instantly when a sword lanced through the roof top of the cab as if it was a sheet of blotting paper and cut straight into his skull.

  Johnston found himself looking across the increasing gap between the trucks, looking into a savage face that had once been human, lips pulled up in a snarl of pure hatred. Metal plates burnished a heavily muscled naked body laced with scars, stitches and tattoos of Atlantean emblems. Johnson recognised them as that of the Tuatha de Danann. Combat training clicked into place. Enemy. Kill, kill, kill. Johnson raised his automatic shotgun, firing as he did so, a line of holes thudding up the broken cab to where the warrior had been. Damn… Where…?

  It was Carpenter, standing next to him that saved Johnson. The other four Nightshade troops were still ponderously trying to bring their weapons to bear, hemmed in and restricted by the confines of the truck. In the flicker of an eye the Tuatha warrior had leapt high into the air with a grace that belied its bulk, rose high, arms stretched out in a parody of a crucifixion, blades extended ready to come together in a deadly embrace. Carpenter saved Johnson by being the warrior’s target, the power suited man being driven to his knees as the Tuatha warrior landed on his shoulders with bone cracking force before bringing its arms down with incredible speed to stab Carpenter in the back. Metal squealed against metal as the blades scraped through the incredibly tough armour into the soft flesh beneath, Carpenter desperately trying to dislodge his assailant. The Tuatha warrior momentarily lost its balance, a hiss of fury escaping its ruined lips. It was enough time for Johnson to lash out with as much force as he could muster, smashing his shotgun into the naked warrior’s side and feeling ribs crack and splinter under the huge force of the blow before the Tuatha span away, limbs swinging loose like a ragdoll before it thudded into the tunnel side, rocks cracking and splintering around the outstretched body.

  The other three? Where were the other three?

  Riley saw the Tuatha warrior spin into the rock face. A new enemy and one of many by the sound of things. The Behemoths were still slowly rolling forward, guns blazing as they did so, pounding their opponents with an unending barrage of high explosive.

  Riley reacted instinctively as did Sergeant Paddock who was standing next to him, both men opening fire simultaneously as they saw a humanoid shape fly through the air above the leading Behemoth, twisting and turning with a graceful balletic air.

  Column Leader Jei Rital al Khan snarled at the pathetic attempts to shoot him as he span and twirled in the air above the large assault vehicle, easily avoiding the bullets that hurtled towards him, a sense of glee and exuberance filling him with delight. By the Soul of Danu, it was good to be alive again, to feel the air on his skin, to have the thrill of battle coursing through his blood, the rough grip of an energy sword in one hand, the cool plastic feel of a shrak pistol in the other. All foes of the Tuatha de Danaan feared Jei Rital al Khan. They were all dead now, as was right. Soon their ancestors would learn to fear the very hint of his name. The Tuatha de Danaan would take their place as rightful rulers of this world and the beyond.

 
; Jei Rital tensed as he landed on top of the first assault vehicle, shockwaves from the repeated firing of the heavy guns washing over him. He sliced down, the glowing energy sword slicing through the inches thick hull as if it wasn’t there. Within seconds Jei Rital had carved a rough circle in the roof of the hull which he effortlessly picked up and threw defiantly at the following assault vehicle.

  A babble of noise rose up from the interior and a… thing…, Jei Rital refused to call them ‘men’ as they were so weak and inferior, tried to kill him with his puny gun. Jei Rital lifted the thing out of the vehicle by the throat, squeezing as he did so. The so called mans eyes popped out of his head before Jei Rital flung him aside like the useless object he was. Warriors? Pah! He’d fought children who’d given him a bigger challenge before he’d killed them.

  Another of the things within crawled out from where it had been hiding within the cramped innards of the vehicle, fear and effort etched across the lines of its face, a gun held out in front of it. Jei Rital sneered in contempt at the pitiful specimen, his contempt turning to surprise as it dared fire upon him! The shot struck him on the upper left arm but the pain barely registered, so angry was Jei Rital at this blasphemy. He fired the shrak pistol, a stream of tiny carbon fragments spinning out from the narrow nozzle at just under supersonic speeds shredding the head of the sub animal filth in a fine spray of blood, bone and muscle tissue.

  Jei Rital laughed, a coarse hard laugh forced from unfamiliar throat muscles. It was so good to kill again. It made him feel alive, introducing true fear to the hearts of the foe!

  He turned at a clank and thud to see one of the puny worms crawling out of one of the gun turrets of the assault vehicle. Easy prey. Not worth running for, he thought as he hopped over the uneven surface to the turret, taking his time as he did so. A shout from behind him in that guttural language of theirs. Careless. Kill this one then deal with the one behind. Jei Rittal raised his shining blade and brought it down onto the head of head of the cowering tank crewman and missed as the crewman ducked back into the vehicle, the energy sword slicing a great notch into the cupola of the turret. A rapid spitting of bullets announced themselves before they thudded into the Column Leader’s back causing him to lurch forward in great pain and shock. No! This could not be! They were so inferior!

  His forward trajectory pushed him over the open cupola onto one knee. Jei Rittal felt blood bubbling up from his lungs. The end was near and a pitifully shameful ending it was. The warrior’s mind clouded with a red mist as anger at his failure descended. Anger that he would die yet again weighed down by failure. He felt for the high explosive capsule he kept attached to his belt. Better to die in a blaze of glory than bleeding to death in ignominy. He couldn’t feel his legs any more as a numbness rose from his toes and quickly worked its way upwards. His breathing was shallow and ragged and when he smiled a grim smile of satisfaction, blood dripped from his mouth into the tank. A rushing of blood roared in Jei Rittal’s ears and his vision blurred as a darkness crept in from around the edges. After a seconds fumbling, his cold hand found the small oblong container he was seeking. A victorious death and these insects would not stop him. A long way away, far off on the edge of his failing hearing, Jei Rittal heard shouts of panic and curses, high pitched squeals from the filthy insects. As his sight faded away with his lifeblood, Jei Rittal saw his blood drip onto a figure below, a figure lying down with both arms outstretched above it with a gun in its hands. In the lying figure’s eyes Jei Rittal saw his honourable death die, a split second before the first bullet blew apart his scarred skull.

  The ground quaked beneath the trucks as Riley disembarked onto the hard rock surface. Riley almost lost his balance and fell, which would have been a disaster considering how awkward it was to get up in the power armour. What was the Core preparing to throw at them now? Ahead of the two Behemoths a deep orange and yellow glow spread over the walls, as if from a giant fire. Riley lumbered forward with the Nightshade squad past the two Behemoths. The tunnel ended just a few tens of yards ahead. opening up into a vast tall cavern that looked almost like the inside of a volcano, a cone-like amphitheatre of rock. In the centre, directly ahead, dwarfed by the cavern stood a rocket. Riley knew of the Ajax space rocket project, back home in Blighty, but he reckoned that this edifice was at least five times the size of the huge needle-like version produced by the boffins, almost the size of an aerial dreadnaught standing on end. Riley could see a declining stream of creatures and stunted humanoids entering the rocket and realisation dawned upon Riley that the Core was not just making good its escape but that it had nearly achieved it. Defeat was in the process of being grasped from the jaws of victory.

  A gout of yellow flame rushed out of the engines at the bottom of the rocket with a thunderous roar, causing dust and rubble to cascade down the sides of the cavern as the very air vibrated, an almost visible shockwave rippling outwards knocking over discarded barrels, rusted fencing, signposts and strange equipment. The flame vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

  Sporadic automatic small arm fire told Riley that the remaining Tuatha de Danaan warriors were being taken care of. He patched his radio through to the wavelength on which the Behemoths operated and ordered the machines forward.

  “Fire at will but concentrate your fire on that rocket,” Riley ordered, doubting the rocket would be even dented despite the power of the Behemoths’ artillery. He racked his brains desperately trying to remember what he knew of the Ajax project. The principles had to be the same. Where was the rocket being fuelled from? Rocket fuel was volatile to the extreme. Some of that might cause an explosion big enough to damage the rocket and stop it taking off.

  And where was the enemy? Shell craters and bullet ridden rocks were surrounded by the rag doll remains of Khadrae, a few naked Tuatha de Danaan warriors and small fur wrapped humanoid shapes. Riley could already smell the putrid sweet stench of rotting flesh as the artificially maintained bodies rapidly decomposed in the warm atmosphere. The Core was taking as much of its forces as it could.

  Shots from the Behemoths’ main armament blew out their shells which smoked through the air across the distance into the rocket’s side. The explosions registered no effect at all, barely scratching the surface. Riley saw the cargo door close shut with a solid finality.

  A yellow flame lanced out of the rear of the rocket followed by another three in rapid succession, all of which quickly progressed from yellow to white hot to an eye searing incandescent blue. Riley realised that the only thing they could do now was watch their strange, vicious and undoubtedly evil enemy escape and take off into the sky.

  Riley gazed up helplessly as the seemingly solid roof of the cavern slid slowly back with an ear piercing squealing and grating of unoiled hydraulics, revealing a sky dark with the night and bright with the full moon that could just be seen peeking over the edge of the ragged void.

  The cannons on the Behemoths fell silent. The gathering of men watched the slow stately ascent of the rocket as it took off from its launch pad with a rage that sent the men staggering to keep their balance, clasping their ears against the torrent of noise. The rocket staggered slightly before rectifying itself as it took off so slowly as to seem unnatural and then moved out of the crater hole, up and out into the night sky where its undisturbed ascent became faster and faster and eventually all that could be seen was an extra bright star that burnt with a cold blue lustre that faded as the minutes ticked by.

  And so the British mission to destroy the Core and the threat it posed to the world, failed.

  Epilogue

  Sturmbannführer Stern and Oberstgruppen-Führer Hausser stood in the highest tower on the Nazi moonbase overlooking the sprawling complex with its concrete and glass domes lined with frames of the finest Krupp steel. As they watched, they saw a blaze of blue flame appear overhead, almost lost in the glare from Earth, an incandescent star that quickly descended like a meteor towards the array of launch pads that lay beyond the knife ridged mountains in w
hose shadow the moonbase lay. The two men stood in silence as the gigantic rust red rocket slowed itself in a gout of flashing flame that left after images on their eyes before settling down beyond the mountains. Both the SS men felt a burden of doubt fall from their shoulders as the rocket sat there, its tip just visible from their high vantage point. The Core's journey from Earth was successful. Their ally was safe from the Britishers at last.

  The small amphitheatre was awash with the dark blue light that appeared to come from the smooth walls themselves. There was no sound, save for a faint hum of restrained power as it had been for the thousands of years before the four British explorers of Doyle, Miller Hayre, Mcharrie and Archer had impeached on the gloomy silence. The hum of power intensified to a buzz for a short second before the Nucleus flickered into being, a glowing dark shadow that glimmered and sparkled amongst the darker shadows that lay like spilled ink around it.

  When the Nucleus spoke it was in the language of Atlantis, long since fallen into disuse but not forgotten. The air seemed to vibrate as the old words were spoken.

  “Welcome, creature of Thule,” said the Nucleus as the single Khadrae entered the room pausing at the framed doorway to hiss venomously at the luminous being in front of it.

  The Khadrae was silent and then the Nucleus felt an oily feeler of consciousness reach out and touch its mind. The feeler recoiled before reaching out again to the Nucleus’ intellect.

  “The Nucleus!” said the sing song voice echoing through the gulfs between the two great minds. “So you do exist! My children have been looking for you for so long…”

  “You are Thule are you not?” queried the Nucleus.

  The voice giggled madly before its owner caught itself and said, “Once, so very, very long ago I was called Thule. Yes, I am. I. Me. I’m Thule, a god, the god.” It giggled again.