by Frank Schildiner
The Western Star was an unhappy ship. A barely profitable tub of a vessel built in 1908 Bremen, the Western Star was a heavy lifting ship of 120 tons. She traveled a regular route of London, Cork and New York. The ship was shabby, poorly maintained and under the tyrannical control of the murderous Captain “Evil” Edward Larsen. Larsen, the son of a sea captain, was a man of average height, massive strength and a bullying disposition. He perpetually walked about the ship, pistol and knife on his hips, looking for any sign of laziness or weakness and pouncing on the victim with the savagery of a jungle cat.
The men of the Western Star were perpetually searching for a means of “accidentally” disposing of their beast of a skipper, but so far no plan had come to fruition. The terrible commander of the Western Star had the instincts of a predator, sensing both weakness and danger and reacting instantly and maliciously toward the crew. A giant Dutch Able Seaman named Nielsen once attempted to dump a container on the unsuspecting head of Evil Larsen, only to find the captain had switched places with third mate Johnson. Larsen later attacked Nielsen and shattered both of the man’s arms and hands, letting the giant Dutchman live as an example to those who plotted against their skipper.
Most of the crew planned on jumping ship, pay or no, when they hit New York three days from today. Larsen never worried about losing crew, the downturn in the world economy left many sailors out of work and unable to find a berth. By the time the ship was ready to leave for London, he would have a full crew who would be grateful for the regular work. They would learn about their Captain’s style of command midway through the trip to Cork, Ireland and the murderous plotting would begin anew.
“Parker?” Larsen bellowed, his voice carrying down the companionway. “Parker, damn your eyes, step up here lively!”
Parker was the second mate of the Western Star, a moderate seaman who was completely cowed by Evil Larsen’s cruelties and walked about the ship with the aspect of a whipped puppy. The crew didn’t respect him, but felt sorry for the officer in a distant way. He was better than Doc Martin, a discharged Irish vet who informed on the crew any chance he got and made them pay dearly for even the smallest medical treatment.
Larsen’s yells of anger echoed about the ship, though few of the crew looked up from their work. Those who were off-duty pretended to be asleep or ended their card games abruptly, knowing their terrible skipper could fly off in a rage for no reason. The presence of any form of idle actions other than off-duty sleep was too tempting a target for Evil Larsen and the crew always hid their various indulgences as soon as they heard the captain’s snarls of rage.
The crew cabin door burst open and Evil Larsen leapt into the room, no doubt expecting the often hapless Parker to be hidden amongst the seamen that were off duty. His massive blond head swiveled slowly about, examining all present for excuse to explode into a violent assault. Finding none, he kicked aside a chair and turned back toward the companionway.
“All of you, up on deck, now! Find me Parker and bring the cowardly dog to bridge. Get on with it while I’m still feeling calm and relaxed.” Larsen stated, striding away and heading back to the Western Star’s main bridge. Evil Larsen was given to such ironic comments, knowing all too well he was as explosively dangerous as his late infamous sea captain father. That man was still spoken about in shudders by those who had crossed his path, a nearly mythical figure that traded in the Pacific and was often accused of piracy in whispers.
The crew reluctantly dressed and began the search, knowing it was easier to bring Evil Larsen his probably drunken soon to be victim than to resist. Most of the officers drank heavily while off-duty, needing some form of release from the terrible life they were living on the Western Star.
A little under two hours later, the crew assembled on the deck, having conducted a cursory search of all the locations Parker was likely to inhabit. Evil Larsen lambasted them with words that even caused the jaded seamen to stare in shock. But eventually the flow of curses ran out and Larsen paced back and forth across the deck above their waiting eyes.
“Wilner,” Evil Larsen barked, staring down at one of his toadies, “you’ll take that dog’s watches from now on. Damn fool must have fallen overboard.”
None of the crew aired the idea that Parker may be hidden in the many depths of the large ship. If the man was aboard, revealing himself would result in terrible retribution by Larsen, best to hope the man fell overboard accidentally or had an escape plan he never revealed.
“Captain, sir?” Doc Martin asked tentatively, stepping forward from the rear of the crew. He was a tall fleshy man with wispy brown hair and pale damp skin that never tanned or seemed dry. Everyone aboard knew the former veterinarian was incompetent and an informer to the captain, but they had recourse should they require medical aid. Shipboard life, especially under someone as cruel as Captain Evil Larsen, resulted in occasional injuries no matter how cautious you behaved.
Larsen looked down at Doc Martin, hiding the disgust he felt for the sad little man. Martin, despite informing on the crew regularly, was an incompetent who loved to inflict pain on others. Despite the man’s usefulness, Evil Larsen longed for the day he could seize the struck off vet up and beat him to death.
But until that day, Larsen would use the man and allow him to think they were friends and partners, “Yes, Doctor?” Larsen asked, his voice mild.
“Three other members of the crew are not present. Morton, Hirano and Bevins were last seen working with Mr. Parker,” Martin wheezed, smiling up at the Captain. Jonah Martin, formerly a certified veterinarian in Dublin, enjoyed the ripple of fear that always filled the crew when he spoke to the captain. Fear was a delicious delight, a savory feast that was always his reason for any of his actions.
“How did you know that, Doctor?” Larsen asked, interested despite himself. One vanishing he could understand, men fell overboard on occasions, but four confused him.
“Because it occurred last night and I recalled seeing them working hard on repairing the radio mast. And then I noticed this afternoon that said mast is still unrepaired and we are still unable to utilize the radio if help is required,” Martin explained, feeling the wave of fear from those around him upon discovering the Western Star had no working radio.
“Wilner!” Larsen snapped, bringing everyone back to the problem at hand. “Take three men and repair that mast right now. The rest of you get to your stations! Now!”
Wilner and the three men he chose at random left first, heading for the radio mast a little quicker than they usually moved on the Western Star. Nobody moved fast on this ship, you walked just fast enough to keep the Captain from getting angry, but not fast enough to warrant his notice. Not an easy feat, but somehow everyone aboard learned this skill as a survival instinct.
A moment later there was a high-pitched shriek, a sound similar to that of an animal in torment. Then three more cries followed, sounds of shock and terror, and all present immediately realized the sounds came from the direction of the radio mast. Captain Evil Larsen drew the long bladed hunting knife from his waist while his other hand pulled free the large silver revolver he always kept on his other hip. His body was taut as he stared about, his eyes wild and filled with terror and some fear.
“Follow me!” he ordered the crew, the black eye of his pistol moving across his men as a means of ensuring compliance. Larsen was under no illusions about how he was viewed by the crew, which was why he carried weapons all the time and had no compunction about using them against anyone.
The crew was reluctant to follow the Captain, despite his skill with his gun and knife. A few backed away, muttering prayers in quivery fear filled voices. “Gentlemen,” Doctor Martin said, smiling broadly at the crew, “our Captain has ordered you to follow him. If you don’t comply with his orders, he’s likely to grow rather…annoyed with you. Get along now!”
The crewmen who were backing away gave the ship’s medical officer a look of open loathing. The same look of disgust filled the array of faces before Martin, but he merely gave them a wide amused smile. But move they did, following their terrible Captain forward toward the screams that cut off the minute they began to walk.
Only Doctor Jonah Martin remained behind, chuckling at the crew’s response. He leaned against the ship’s rail as the screams began again, shrieks of pain and fright that would make any normal person quake and panic. But not Jonah Martin, he merely moaned with happiness as the gunshots began and were suddenly cut off. The screaming voices slowly grew fainter until all that was left were the sounds of the Western Star slowly cutting through the Atlantic Ocean.
Martin reached for his cigarettes, his hands shaking with the joy he felt from the experience that just occurred. He was about to light up when a shadow passed over his face, causing the former vet to look up. The sight above him caused even a sadist like Jonah Martin to drop his cigarette and scream in fear before that sound too was cut off.
Two days later the Western Star was found drifting in United States waters by a patrolling Navy ship. After a cursory search it was found to be devoid of life, the crew missing and all the lifeboats still present. This was a mystery and the United States military did not like unanswered questions in their territory.
The Captain of the USS Orion was a tall spare Annapolis graduate named Doherty. A career man who intended to retire an Admiral like his father, he stared at the shabby ship across his frigate’s bow. This was the type of situation that made or broke careers, which was dangerous for a military officer with high ambitions. Best to take the smart but cautious approach and hand the responsibility off to someone else and remove any chance this situation was dealt with by others.
Writing a carefully worded message, he sent for the ship’s radioman and said, “Send this to the War Department using the code we received before we left. Don’t tell anyone the contents, understood? Good.”
A short time later the message was received and passed into the hands of a small unknown department in Washington. The hidden commanders of that unit immediately responded, sending out the man they could best trust for such an unusual incident, one who would take this situation seriously and keep everything from getting into the newspapers…a man called Richard Knight…
***
A black Douglas Dolphin banked around the USS Orion twice before landing off the frigate’s bow with the lightness that belied the plane’s bulky dimensions. The crew tossed the pilot a line and a few moments later the green suited pilot appeared, climbing aboard with the agility of a circus gymnast. The man was tall with dark hair and a powerful lean frame that allowed him to move with the smooth action of a jungle cat. The sailors instinctively moved aside, recognizing a person who was born to command others in or out of battle.
“Dick Knight,” Captain Doherty intoned sourly. He sounded as if he was proclaiming the name of one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, declaring the man before him to be one of the dangers of the world.
“Harvey Doherty,” Richard Knight responded, sounding both amused and a little world weary. Doherty was a time server, a man with all the inspiration and command skills of a street sweeper. Harvey Doherty was more concerned about retiring to a golf course as an Admiral, spending his time being saluted while never risking himself or his chances of promotion in any way.
“I don’t want you here, Knight,” Captain Doherty declared, straightening himself up and looking at the other man with naked dislike. Richard Knight and men like him were loose cannons who appeared to view the rules and regulations of the military as objects to be broken rather than guidelines set out to prevent anarchy.
“I’m not really interested in your likes and dislikes, Harvey. I need to get about the Western Star and perform a search. If you’d like to prevent me, I’ll radio General Brett and he can type it out in official orders. You remember General Brett, don't you, Harvey? He’ll probably remove you from command since you’d be obviously unable to handle delicate intelligence matters…” Knight almost laughed as he said the words. Men like Harvey Doherty would sacrifice their grandmother to the god Neptune if they thought the death would result in an admiral’s star. Doyle, who was off in Texas on another job, would have enjoyed making Harvey squirm, but there was not time for fun right now.
Doherty stared with disgust at Knight, despising all intelligence agents and their unseen masters. One day, when Harvey got his star and was seated at the right hand of the President of the United States, men like Dick Knight would be tossed aside in favor of those who could follow the rules of the United States Armed Forces.
But until that wonderful day, Harvey Doherty knew he needed to cooperate and appear helpful to Knight and his Washington contacts. Giving the tall intelligence agent a nod, he said, “Two of my men will take you aboard the ship and will escort you back. Meet them aft.”
Richard Knight knew he could get aboard without the escort, but decided to let Harvey think he’d won this tiny victory. If his information was correct, this ship would be uninhabited and few important clues would be present. Knight’s steely gaze settled on the drab and shabby freighter across the Orion’s bow, hoping his information was merely fanciful thinking by intelligence analysts with too much time on their hands. After all, these men believed and even wanted to prepare for an invasion from Mars in New Jersey in eight or nine years. How ridiculous was that?
The two men chosen by Doherty were an odd pair. The first, a large barrel-chested hairy character with the mean look of a brawler gone to seed. The second, a skinnier fellow with large tattooed forearms, sparse hair, a deep squint to his eyes and the look of one who enjoyed a scrap with anyone available. They were obviously long-standing friends, but Knight would be willing to bet they would start punching each other the minute they both wanted the same woman.
Pulling themselves aboard the Western Star, Richard Knight turned to the two sailors and said, “Why don’t you two grab a smoke or something. I won’t be too long.”
The shorter man shook his head, straightening his cap and replied, “The Captain says we needs to stay with youse, and stays with you we will. Otherwise its scrubbin’ duties for the boths of us!”
Knight chuckled, knowing the odd sailor wasn’t wrong. If Doherty thought either had been lax while assigned to watch him, he’d give both the worst punishments his limited mind could imagine. No, best to let both men stay at his side as he checked this ship for evidence of what he believed occurred while they were traveling at sea.
“Fair enough,” Knight stated and waved them both to follow in his wake. “We need to locate the radio tower and see if it has been damaged.”
“Yeah, sure,” The larger sailor replied, sounding surly and annoyed. Richard Knight was willing to bet that was the man’s jolliest tone, unless he was laughing while beating someone in a fight.
The radio tower was easy to locate, a ruined piece of steel broken in several places. The metal was almost twisted, as if a great force had ripped into the device with the idea of putting it out of commission.
“That weren’t broken by no wind,” The smaller sailor said and backed away from the broken metal.
“You think it’d broken by the Booger man?” The larger sailor scoffed. He began chuckling in large “ho, ho” sounds, almost cartoonish in its mocking style.
“Why you…” The shorter sailor snarled, but Richard Knight cut both off with a dangerous look.
“We don’t have time for that nonsense. Wait till you get ashore and kill each other then. Until that time, shut your mouths and do what I tell you,” Knight stated, his voice a whip of command that brought both men in line instantly.
“So what’s you wants us to do?” the shorter sailor asked, watching Knight with squinting, suspicious eyes. He seemed distrustful but respectful, easier to deal with than his large friend.
“Look around the deck, see if you spot anything that looks out of place or strange. Don’t touch what you find, just call me. Understood? Good, get to it, sailors!” Knight ordered, knowing he needed to keep control of these two, otherwise they’d go rogue in no time.
The trouble was, this ship was a shabby tub, poorly maintained and occupied by a crew that did the absolute minimum work possible. Most of the ship’s equipment littered the deck, with only important tools placed in the proper location. Richard Knight despaired at finding evidence he was looking for, without proper intelligence he might even be pulled off this assignment in favor of the many other dangers facing the United State military.
“Hey, Knight!” The larger sailor called out, sounding even surlier than before. “Found a pile of garbage here that don’t look regular. You want to take a look or can I go back to looking for mermaids?”
With that the large man began to guffaw, his exaggerated chortles filled with malice. An unpleasant fellow, but Richard Knight wasn’t concerned about the sailor beyond his help at the moment.
Striding quickly over to the sailor’s side, Knight pushed past the man and his shorter partner and observed a pile of debris littering the deck. Kneeling down he could see why this was referred to as garbage by the other man. Bits of string lay next to small bits of paper, rings of keys and other small items. Richard Knight looked through them slowly and without lifting his head, asked, “How much money did you find?”
“Nothing! You can’t accuse me of nothing!” the larger sailor snapped, looking furious and rubbing his knuckles.
“He found about six bits and some Limey coin,” the smaller replied, grinning up at his larger friend.
“You liar! I never took nothing!” the larger man yelled, raising his large fists.
“Shut up!” Knight said, never raising his voice. “I don’t care if you pocketed gold bars, I need to know exactly what you found.”
The larger man lowered his fists, though he didn’t look ashamed as he said, “Six bits and two Limey shillings. You want a cut?”
Richard Knight shook his head and pushed aside the debris littering the deck. He was studying a series of scuff marks that lay under the garbage found by the two sailors. They were black streaks that varied in length, but each started a little wider and longer and shortened to a thin point. There were many streaks and oddly enough, few crossed each other. They stretched for quite a wide pattern as well and Richard Knight looked at them all closely.
“So they didn’t clean their decks, who cares? Merchants ain’t exactly spit and shine types, and this here tub was kept worse than my Aunt Tilly’s outhouse!” the large sailor scoffed, guffawing as he spoke to Richard Knight. The expression on his face indicated that he thought the intelligence officer was a silly time waster at best.
Knight shook his head, still staring at the streaks across the deck. He was looking for just such a series of streaks, they were the final piece of the puzzle. “There are plenty of marks all over the place, you’re right they took lousy care of this ship. But look at this…”
He pulled out a folded series of papers and stood up, standing before the two sailors and lifting the pages to eye level. They were a series of photographs, hastily done, showing a series of marks very similar to the ones that littered the deck of the Western Star. He paused between each photograph, showing six in all and finally folded them up and placed them back in his jacket’s inner pocket.
“They’s just the ones down there, what’s it mean?” the shorter sailor asked looking at the marks on the floor before them but also at the now hidden pictures in Richard Knight’s pocket.
“Evidence,” Richard Knight said and ran the heel of his shoe along the deck. The streak was a uniform length, nothing like the ones that they were examining. Nodding to himself, Knight turned to the shorter sailor. “Would you mind if I push you down? I need to see something.”
The shorter sailor shrugged and let his body relax. Knight gave him a quick shove backwards and the sailor fell backward, hitting the deck with a low thud. He popped back up, unhurt, his face quizzical as the military intelligence officer bent down and examined the wide streaks that were also different from the ones they discovered. These were wide and stayed the same basic length along the deck.
“You ain’t knocking me down, buddy boy,” the larger sailor growled, his fists balling up and his body tense.
“Don’t need to,” Richard Knight replied as he grabbed the tall man by his shirt and belt and swept him off the ground. Holding the larger sailor over his head, he seemed to forget the man was dangling up above as he stared where the man once stood. The streaks were exactly the same as the ones they had just discovered on the decks of the Western Star.
“Perfect,” Knight whispered and deposited the larger sailor back on his feet. This was all the evidence he needed. Now it was time for action!
***
In a location unknown to all, the Grandmaster sat in a steel throne and watched his followers as they completed their rites. He was bored by them, but they were required for his plans to come to fruition. One had to make due with what one had on hand, a fact he learned a long time ago.
The Grandmaster rarely thought of himself as anything else at this point of his life, but one made due with the fate one was dealt. Life was all about hardship, according to many philosophers he had read over the years, a fact made all too apparent by his past history. Humanity never seemed to accept that hardship made them rise to greater heights, become like angels above or even ancient Gods of mythology.
But no, humanity would prefer to walk the safe course, to try and save as many of their weaker members as possible. This was ridiculous. Did the lion attempt to save the injured antelope in the wild? No, they destroyed them and fed their young with the tasty remains. That was the way of the universe, and he would ensure it would begin. The way of change came to him from Darwin, a book called “The Descent of Man, and the Selection of Sex” that he stole while he was recovering from injuries in a slum on the outskirts of Naples. There a drunken former priest lived, a debauched man with a magnificent collection of books devoted to the truth about humanity. As the Grandmaster regained his strength, he indulged himself in the man’s library, finally providing the sad learned fool with his final end.
But one passage of Charles Darwin’s book stayed with the Grandmaster, became his defining statement and changed how he would confront the world. It was carved in stone above his throne and all his followers recited these words every day:
“Thus the weak members of civilized societies propagate their kind. No one who has attended to the breeding of domestic animals will doubt that this must be highly injurious to the race of man. It is surprising how soon a want of care, or care wrongly directed, leads to the degeneration of a domestic race; but excepting in the case of man himself, hardly any one is so ignorant as to allow his worst animals to breed.”
A perfect statement as to the ways of the world and one that the Grandmaster would cause to happen, starting with the United States. The Americans were in a major depression and instead of growing stronger by destroying their weaker members, they were attempting to find ways of saving their most pathetic sorts. This was wrong and would lead to the lesser races rising up, a lesson he taught years ago to an Austrian born former German soldier. The man never forgot his secret teacher and now that he was on the rise, assisted the Grandmaster in their mutual plans.
Yes, humanity would learn the way of pain and they would be far better for it…
***
Richard Knight examined the map as he flew back toward land, glad to be back in the air and away from the Western Star and the Navy men who were now getting the dead ship into port. Six previous dead ships with the exact same details, all crewmen missing and the possessions from their pockets the only items found near the streaks from their shoes showing they were pulled upwards into the sky.
But the path was fairly easy to follow, a track from the large port of Bremen, Germany to near New York, approximately an attack every 551 nautical miles. The trouble was, where would they head next? There were so many possible directions these attackers could take, anticipating them was a near impossibility. They were heading to the United States, that much was apparent, but why?
Knight realized that maybe the more important question in this puzzle might be what were the intentions of these attackers? The whole venture seemed so random despite the many attacks that occurred between here and Bremen. Yes, the locations were basically in a western direction, but why seize all the crew on each of these freighters and leave the often expensive cargo behind.
It was then that the answer came to Richard Knight, in the form of a seagull. In the distance the military intelligence agent could see a flock of the ocean birds milling about the sky, diving randomly into the water for their food. And with that, Knight realized why there were regular attacks along the way between Germany and the United States.
“Food,” Knight whispered to himself, shaking his head in disgust. The idea of using human beings as food was abhorrent to him as a civilized man. It was just wrong and horrific, but it was the only answer that made sense.
But what was the main aim of these monsters? They were terrible beings at the very least, which qualified them to be counted as sub-human, but Richard Knight knew he couldn’t underestimate them at any time. No, there was a plan at work here and he needed to figure out what these beasts intended with the United States. Once he understood their reasoning, he’d be able to anticipate their next attack…
“Oh my Lord,” Richard Knight nearly yelled, his mind seeing the ultimate purpose. He didn’t know their ultimate motive, but he did suddenly understand the tool they planned on using to attempt to achieve their horrific aim.
“The purpose of terrorism,” Knight said aloud, “is to terrorize.”
The words belong to another monstrous human being, Soviet Communist leader Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. As a man whose revolution resulted in untold deaths, the words fit both his movement and the coming attacks by these terrible beings. They planned to terrify America and only Richard Knight stood in their path…the odds were against him but he had to prevail!
***
Far, far below the Grandmaster’s feet lay one of the largest cities in the world. It was enormous, smelly and filled with beings too weak to live without the help of their government. Sad, pathetic and a waste of time, space and resources, but one that would be rectified starting right at this moment.
The Grandmaster stood up, ignoring his kneeling followers. In truth they were truly his slaves, but they were far better quality than most humans on this planet. He’d carefully researched their bloodlines as well as testing them for intelligence, courage and fierceness in battle. These were the survivors of the two hundred offered to the Grandmaster by Hitler back in Germany, a mere twelve worthy enough to follow him and begin the creation of a new world.
“Below us at this time,” The Grandmaster stated, his voice a soft tone that flowed over everyone present - he never needed to raise his voice, people instinctively hushed when he spoke, a gift he’d possessed for most of his life- “are masses of humanity upon an edifice of stone. They crawl upon this monument like ants upon a high rock, looking down upon their fellow man and attempting to feel greater than their peers. They chatter inanely like birds in a tree, but are little more than worms beneath the feet of giants!”
“Master,” Xavier asked, his voice slightly shaky. He had a healthy fear of the Grandmaster, knowing their leader was a mercurial man, capable of kindness or great cruelty depending on the moment. “May I ask how you see such sad sights? All of us can only see clouds and the sky beneath our vessel.”
The Grandmaster could have been offended, but realized this was a chance to reinforce his power over his underlings once again. Throwing back his head, he laughed long and loud, finally pretending to wipe from his eyes non-existent tears. He finally ceased, though his reply was still filled with a tinge of amusement.
“I am not just your Grandmaster, Xavier my friend and follower. I am your greater in every way. If those beings beneath our feet are as ants to you and the others, then you and your fellows are as insects to me. I see them all; I can hear them chatter about nonsense that hides their fear of life itself. Do not forget that, else you may earn my anger.”
“Yes, Grandmaster,” Xavier replied quickly, keeping his head firmly downward in submission. Besides having a wise and healthy fear of the Grandmaster, he also knew their leader was a man of his word on the whole. He hadn’t lied when he told them how great they would become if they chose to follow his ways.
“It was a fair enough question,” The Grandmaster conceded, seeing a need to bolster his subordinate a slight bit now. Always better to rule with a combination of fear and love. Xavier and the others now feared him, but he would give them reason to worship him again. “I like subordinates who use their minds. This is why your Fuehrer, my pupil nominated each of you to serve at my side.”
Rising up as if on cue, they raised their arms in salute and shouted as a body, “Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!”
The Grandmaster smiled and threw open the hatch near his feet, “Go now! Go and spread fear to all! And bring the yellow haired woman in the new dress to me. She will make a delightful meal for later.”
He watched as his followers left, leaving the hatch open for their return. They were so easy to impress, not realizing that he could tell them anything to keep them in line. For example, no matter how strong he was, no being could hear humans speaking or see them from so great a distance. The simple use of a telescope enabled him to study the location before he gave Xavier and the others a set of very impressive orders. It helped that he was their greater and could destroy them all at once should the need arise, but that would be wasteful and would slow down his plans.
“Change begins now. First this former colony, then the whole of North America and Europe will fall. Yes, change is coming to this world, a much needed one!” The Grandmaster intoned and began to laugh again. Yes, he would bring about a new dawn for humanity, one where he sat at the top and most others were merely food…
***
Richard Knight cursed this seaplane for being a slow moving tub, a Western Star of the sky. Though useful for meetings in calmer seas, rivers, lakes and ponds, the plane was not what anyone would choose when an emergency was about to occur. He longed to be holding the stick of a Boeing F28 or any of the many other planes he had access to in his capacity as a sometime agent of US military intelligence. That was because Richard Knight was born to fly, a natural pilot of incredible skill that allowed him to win air races and earn renown as one the legends of the air to the general public. His superiors in Washington DC understood that they could not prevent him from races and demonstrations of piloting skills, therefore they viewed these activities as an unusual cover for his work for their agencies. Also they appreciated that Richard Knight was one of only a few pilots capable of taking on all comers should there be an attack by any of the United States’ many foes.
Finally his latest destination was in sight, a small island between New York and New Jersey, complete with a majestic statue that always succeeded in causing a lump to appear in Knight’s throat. Yes, this was the island of the Statue of Liberty, a towering monument of freedom given to the USA by the country of France. Having flown close to the statue several times, he still found it hard to take in the sheer majesty of this tribute to democracy.
But that was unimportant right now, Richard Knight surmised that a terroristic attack on the United States would be on a very public location. The closest to where the Western Star was found was the Statue of Liberty, its home an island filled with tourists as well as an Army base. What better location to cause terror for these monsters?
Landing on the Army dock, Richard Knight leapt out of the plane and called out to the approaching military police officers. They were used to the occasional accidental boater stopping by the dock, thinking this was a location they could leave their boat while they explored the island and statue.
“Military intelligence,” Knight snapped, striding forward on the dock. “Get out of the way and watch the plane!”
While it might be a good idea to involve the Army in what was happening, or more correctly what might happen, how could he explain this to the Colonel in charge of the base that he, Richard Knight, was the agent known as Q? The point of being a member of military intelligence was remaining secretive at all times, not to mention that they might resent his intrusion. Additionally he wasn’t sure how to deal with this issue even if his suppositions were correct.
There were several places an attack could take place on the island, the US Army base being the first. But Knight discounted that instantly, why would anyone attack a location filled with men carrying guns and capable of getting their hands on even more powerful arms? No, even the most terrible monster might pause at the idea of attacking an area filled with heavily armed trained soldiers.
The actual location would have to be the statue itself, the main site of the island. But where specifically would this attack take place? There were numerous locations, the crown being a popular location as well as the torch. But Richard Knight suspected neither were good locations for an attack, the number of people in those areas being very limited. Plus people would be able to hide if attacked. The statue was large and did not possess many ways in or out.
No, the major target for an attack would be the base of the pedestal. People were often waiting in line to get into the Statue. Additionally many were strolling about and enjoying the day. Of all of the New York area, this island was one of the most populated areas, a location that if attacked would be almost literally a tragic shot heard ‘round the world. Additionally this would add a level of tragedy to a truly international symbol of freedom. The Statue of Liberty might become a reminder of pain and terror for all, a terrible thought that Richard Knight could not allow to occur!
But how would these monsters attack from the sky? This Knight still hadn’t determined since there were so many possibilities. Would they swoop down in small planes with some type of man catcher? Use long tentacle arms as if from a Wellsian nightmare? There was no way to know until these beasts made themselves visible.
“Mommy!” A little girl with long blonde sausage curls and a tiny blue beret called, tugging her mother’s coat and pointing straight up into the sky. “Look at the big birds!”
Richard Knight’s head snapped upward in the direction the tiny girl was pointing. His vision, like many expert pilots, was far better than most people; though his was exceptional even for a flier. Knight could see what this girl thought were birds in detail and knew these were the monsters intent on attacking the United States. They were horrific, terrible creatures that made his blood run cold and his hands reach for the twin .45 caliber automatics he wore under his jacket.
“Everyone!” Richard Knight yelled, his guns causing many to start with fear. “Get inside the pedestal and close the doors. NOW!”
The tourists and other people milling about the area began to flee in panic, not knowing why the tall, strong looking man was pulling out a pair of guns and ordering them to hide in the interior of the Statue of Liberty. But New Yorkers aren’t foolish. They saw a man with a pair of guns telling them to get under cover and knew this was a good idea. After all, the gangsters at war in the city rarely were so decent as to give warning of violent action.
Richard Knight studied the creatures as they approached, grateful to hear that there didn’t appear to be any heroes or curious on-lookers wondering what was happening. The creatures were flying in circles, seeing the fleeing people and obviously confused by their actions. But they also could see one lone man standing and staring up at them, guns in hand. This man obviously was their enemy and needed to die! With a cry of anger, they began to dive, heading straight for Richard Knight, bloodlust rising.
Knight waited as the monsters flew downward, knowing his pistol’s range was short and firing at this distance was a waste of time. This gave him a chance to take in what he was about to face, inhuman beings that obviously fed on mankind. They were man sized creatures, grey-skinned with coarse fur about their bodies and huge leathery wings. Their faces possessed only slits for noses, large black eyes and long, sharp razors for teeth. There were clawed hands at the end of the long wings and their legs ended in horrific long talons. They were monstrous to view, half-man, half-bat, but there was one characteristic that made Richard Knight blink several times with surprise.
Each of these bat men creatures wore about their long muscular torsos a white belted flap of cloth with a carefully drawn black cross visible in the center. The image was very unusual. Why would these man eating monsters wear what appeared to be the coats worn by crusaders of the dark or middle ages?
But Richard Knight didn’t have time to consider these details, there were twelve of these beasts heading his way and the first was closing fast. The military intelligence officer inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, calming himself and began to fire.
The twin .45s spat twins of blazing lead into the first bat creature, striking the monster twice in the chest and sending it spinning off its path and crashing into the statue’s pedestal. Knight didn’t have time to celebrate as more of the monsters were diving his way, their wicked talons intent on tearing him to pieces. Running off to his right, Richard Knight aimed carefully and shot another of the creatures in the head while his other gun took a bead on another monster in range. The bullets struck the beasts in the chest and sent them spinning into their fellow creatures, many of them crashing into the ground.
Another of the creatures screeched and dove his direction, causing Knight to throw himself backwards and fire several shots. The monster screamed in pain and continued to fly circling higher as it screeched. One detail struck the military intelligence officer as he rolled back to his feet and continued to fire at the monsters…none of these beasts were bleeding! They were all screaming in pain from the bullets and the impact of striking the ground, but they weren’t injured the way anything he’d ever seen in the past. This was a mystery, a terrifying one!
But Richard Knight didn’t have time to think about such details, he had more monsters to fight off! Diving forward and rolling up to a kneeling position, he shot two more before disaster struck. A pair of huge talons grabbed him from behind, pulling the intelligence officer off his feet and into the air. The monster’s hold on his body was fierce and they flew upward with gut-wrenching speed. He could not move his arms to fire his gun, if he wiggled and pulled the talons would bite deep in his flesh and render him unable to fight back in any way. Knight knew he only had a few seconds before he was too high to survive a fall, so he had to act immediately!
Knight swung his body upward toward the monster holding him so tight and lifting him into the sky. His hard soled boots struck the monster under the jaw, shocking the creature and causing its grip to loosen enough to free one arm and allow him to fire into the monster’s face at point blank range. The beast man screamed in agony, rearing back and involuntarily opening the huge talons and causing Richard Knight to fall free. He tumbled down almost a story in height, tucking and rolling away as another creature attempted to grab him up.
Knight, having counted his shots, knew he would need to reload soon. There wasn't much time to do that. The monsters were swooping down on his position and it was only their careless actions that made them vulnerable to his shots. No, this couldn't last much longer, he needed to change tactics fast or one of these creatures would realize they merely had to use their huge talons and skewer him to end this battle.
Inspiration struck him a moment later as he rolled to his right and came up firing at a diving bat monster. A few feet in front of Knight was a fallen hot dog stand, tipped over by one of the fleeing crowd no doubt. Hot dogs, buns, condiments and other sundry items lay strewn about the ground, the brightly colored umbrella from the cart looking like a fallen soldier in this battleground before one of America's greatest monuments.
Smiling to himself, the military intelligence officer feinted to his right and dove forward, coming up in a roll and snatching up the umbrella. Pulling out the battered lighter he always carried in his pocket, Richard Knight lit the umbrella's cloth on fire and nodded as it began to blaze mere seconds later. Now he had a weapon that these creatures would respect, for all beings on Earth respect and fear fire!
Seeing another beast man diving his way, Knight swung the burning umbrella in the creature's path and was elated to hear the monster shriek in fear and pain as the flames struck the horrific body. The thing was instantly alight, screaming in agony and dropping from the ground as the enormous wings burnt up. A terrible sight, but a brief one as the bat man vanished seconds later into a pile of ash. Richard Knight swung again, barely catching another on fire, satisfied to see that monster begin to blaze as fast as its now destroyed compatriot.
And then the other creatures took to wing, even the ones he shot and caused to crash into the ground. They screamed with terror and impotent rage, but were flying back up the way they emerged, climbing fast as they flapped their huge batlike wings. A successful action, but one that was not over yet. Ten of these monsters were fleeing into the air and Knight would not let them get away! Tossing the burning umbrella onto the concrete where it would burn up without setting any further fires, he took off at a dead run back toward the Army base.
And mere moments later he was in the air again, the seaplane still flying sluggishly but far faster than the monsters he was pursuing. They were mere specks in his vision, but he could see them and was closing fast. But strangely enough they were still climbing, heading higher than Knight would have imagined any living being to travel. Birds flew high, but like all living, breathing animals, avoided the upper atmosphere where the air became rapidly thinner and the conditions colder. Breathing was becoming more difficult as Richard Knight climbed higher, pursuing these monsters and determined to destroy them before more innocent lives could be lost. But even as he pushed the seaplane ever higher, ice began to appear on the wings. This was one of the greatest dangers to a pilot. Icing on the wings could result in a loss of control of the plane. It was getting harder to see anything as the plane fought to rise despite the ice. Knight knew he was risking his life.
And then the engine cut out, stalling and finally began to fall downward. Knight caught a glimpse of a large shape above him as he fought to restart the engine, knowing he only had seconds before the plane began to spin and break apart. His mind screamed as his body seemed to move sluggishly over the controls, struggling hard as the spin downward was about to begin. This was a risk he’d only taken a few times in his life, one that he’d witnessed causing the deaths of equally excellent pilots. The forces pulling at him pushed him back into the seat, making him feel weak as an infant, as if a giant hand was crushing his lungs.
It was just as the spin was about to begin when the engine coughed to life, the plane leveling off and the descent becoming more controlled. Attempting to chase those monsters in a simple sea plane was sheer folly, but when it came to the lives of innocent people, Richard Knight was always ready to place himself in harm’s way.
But what did he see, the shape that the creatures were fleeing to so high in the sky. The shape that loomed above him for that brief moment before the plane’s engine failed and caused his near death experience? Long, slow moving…there was only one answer. A zeppelin! The creatures had flown across the Atlantic in an old airship, diving down from the extreme heights of the atmosphere to feed on unsuspecting sailors. Their goal seemed to be to shock and terrify the people of the United States, an aim that was foiled by Richard Knight’s guns and a little inspirational use of fire.
But where would they attack next? Knight determined that there were two possible sites they would attack and the slow moving airship would give him some time to prepare. First to contact a friend down South, a judge who was an expert on the weirder aspects of the world.
***
The Grandmaster was raging, having consumed three of the remaining ten servants as they returned to the airship empty handed. Tossing their empty husks aside and sat down in his throne, his eyes scanning the remaining followers.
“You allowed one human with guns and a hastily made torch to chase you away? This is a humiliation I will not tolerate!” The Grandmaster snarled, his too wide mouth showing rows of enormous teeth that dwarfed his followers’ razor maws.
“Great one, the bullets were painful,” Xavier whispered, his eyes downcast. His face was still healing from the point blank shots he received at Knight’s hands. “But the fire consumed Otto and Hans instantly. We were powerless!”
The Grandmaster shook his head sadly, feeling the weight of his age at that moment. His followers were weak compared to his own enormous powers. It seemed that they would never be the army he hoped, but would merely serve as pawns in his plans.
“How very unfortunate for you,” The Grandmaster finally replied. “I am immune to flames, having survived the fires of Mount Vesuvius years ago.”
He did not add that he was rendered nearly helpless for over a decade, healing the horrific burns of the volcano. But survive he had, which was more than any of his followers seemed able. Still, they were more powerful than simple humans and useful as tools in this coming war.
The coming war was one that the Grandmaster decided to create when it was apparent there was no true way for him to die. Guns, fire, lava, silver, stakes to the heart…none of those items would harm him for long.
“Change course to our next target. Prepare yourselves my knights, you must pay penance for your failures,” the Grandmaster said and waved them away, unable to look at these lesser creatures any more.
***
The Judge was a large man in every way, great height, enormous girth and large bulbous eyes and nose over a drooping blonde mustache. A war hero and a legal genius, he had been combating evil since before the Great War and, even after retirement, was still the best help one could ask for in a dangerous situation. He always monitored a specific radio wavelength, an unused band that was last used by a small intelligence unit that no longer existed. Commandeering the radio from the Army base and ushering the operators out of earshot, Richard Knight was grateful the Judge’s routine rarely varied and he was always prepared to offer advice.
“You do run into unique puzzles, my friend,” The Judge’s great voice boomed over the radio’s speaker.
“You know what those creatures were, sir?” Knight asked, hopeful.
“I do indeed,” The Judge replied with a chuckle. “They were vampires of course.”
Knight frowned, “Judge, I read Stoker’s novel and viewed that play with the European fellow in the role. These monsters attacked in daylight and resembled giant bats. Also they wore crosses across their chests!”
“My good friend, there are as many variations of vampires as there are beetles. The type you fought were probably devoted to a form of Christianity as practiced by the late and unlamented knighthood order, the Teutonic Knights. They abandoned crusading for the Holy Lands in favor of conquering and pillaging sections of Europe. Terrible men, and these modern versions are far worse,” The Judge replied. “Fire will destroy the weaker ones at least.”
“And the stronger vampires?” Richard Knight asked, hoping the Judge had an answer.
“Vampire,” The Judge corrected. “Those creatures will never work with one of equal power. Many cannot be killed by any known method. Sometimes the only method to combat them is to trap them and imprison them somewhere safe. The ancient Egyptians used hidden tombs, the Druids created enormous burial mounds.”
Knight thanked the Judge and immediately left the airbase for a base deep in upstate New Jersey. This base was the one he used earlier for his trip to the Western Star, a source of planes and other items needed for his intelligence work. Leaving the seaplane behind, he soon changed into a special prototype pressure suit and air mask made for high altitude work. The US military anticipated one day that someone might attack from an enormous altitude and had a special anti-airship plane prepared.
Strapping in, he was off a moment later, needing to make up time in the air. The zeppelin was slow moving, but it did have a lead of over two hours! But where to go? Washington DC was a site of many historical monuments and the political system of the country. But the intent of the monsters’ last action was to demoralize the spirit of the country, to reduce a symbol of liberty to one of pain and sadness. Also Washington DC was very well protected, so the second site was the direction Knight headed…Philadelphia, the home of the famous Liberty Bell!
This was a gamble, but one in which Richard Knight had no choice but to take. There was little time to study maps and consider the choice for long. A split second decision had been needed and he made it instantly!
Climbing to 40,000 feet, Richard Knight pushed the plane to the fullest, just above the red line and coming close to sending the engine into the danger zone. But in the distance, he spotted the zeppelin, 5,000 feet above and chugging steadily along. Pushing the plane even harder, Knight ate up the distance and rose above the grey airship, his guns almost in position to fire.
It was then his heart sank as batlike figures began to drop out of the zeppelin’s gondola, heading for Knight’s plane. These creatures weren’t as fast as his plane, but if they got too close they could tear the wings or rudder off! Spinning off and diving into a quick loop, Knight fired the plane’s enormous guns and smiled as a vampire exploded! The bullets were lethal to vampires, created to bust airships and set their fuel on fire! A second, third and fourth were destroyed and Richard Knight began to relax, seeing an end in sight…which was when a vampire dropped from above onto the plane’s canopy!
The gigantic bat face filled Knight’s vision, screeching loud enough to be heard over the plane’s engine. The monster’s huge winged arm reared back and then punched forward, shattering the windscreen! The creature’s wicked claws reached for Richard Knight’s heart, seeking to destroy him in one motion.
But Richard Knight was unmoved by the vampire’s attack. He was a pilot, born and bred, and he was ready for any situation. With a quick pull of the stick, he sent the plane into a quick barrel roll followed by a loop. The vampire fell off the plane, shrieking, and it dropped, striking the propeller and being reduced to a red mist seconds later.
Just as suddenly, another vampire dropped into the same place, huge talons sinking deep into the plane’s metal shell. A second later the final vampire dropped to the rear of the plane, the creature’s hands and talons latching tight onto the tail. Richard Knight knew he only had seconds before the plane would be torn to bits by these undead abominations.
Pulling out both of his .45s, Knight shot the vampire in front of him in both eyes, unsurprised that the monster shrieked in pain yet remained attached to the plane. Swiveling in his seat he fired through the canopy into the back of the vampire by the tail’s head. The creature screamed and slumped, but remained in place on the plane…perfect.
Pulling the plane next to the zeppelin, Richard Knight popped the canopy, holstered the guns and pulled out his trench knife. With a smile Knight yanked out a grenade, pulled the pin and dropped it into his seat. He then dove onto the zeppelin’s top, stabbing his knife into the canopy as he slid out of control. The knife slowed his fall, enabling him to grab a strut as his plane began to drop out of sight. There was suddenly a loud explosion, one that rocked the airship and forced Richard Knight to grab the metal strut even tighter.
But with all the vampires gone, there was one left, the most dangerous one of course. Cutting a hole in the canvas, Knight lowered himself inside, finding himself standing on a long wooden and metal walkway. Pulling out his pistol, he glanced about but seemed to be alone.
“I can smell you, American,” a voice said from below, the words calm and almost amused. The accent was English, that well-bred accent usually reserved for the oldest and noblest of families.
“You’re English? I thought the Teutonic Knights were German,” Knight replied, scanning the area, his pistols at the ready.
“I abandoned my country of birth over a century ago. Now I ally myself with those most likely to kill all your species. You fought well, destroying my servants quite impressively. I will make you one of my followers and we will cause humanity to rise above its pathetic state,” the voice replied, suddenly close and in his ear.
Knight spun in place, but a huge taloned arm backhanded him off his feet, sending him crashing to the deck. The wind knocked out of him, he was grateful his guns were still in hand as he rolled over in time to see his enemy face to face. The man dropping to the deck was tall, dark haired and possessing a long mustache that joined with his beard and sideburns, a look that was dated back at the time of the war of 1812.
“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Sir Fran…” The Grandmaster began to say, bowing briefly. His words were put off by a blaze of gunfire spitting from both of Knight’s pistols. Unlike the lesser vampires Knight defeated earlier, the Grandmaster’s now ruined face immediately began to heal.
Chuckling, the Grandmaster moved forward and lifted Knight up off the ground with one hand. He held the large Richard Knight easily. The military intelligence officer now dangling off the ground may as well have been a mouse struggling against a python.
“Bullets?” He asked with a guffaw, “I was immune to those weapons since the time your country was a barely explored colony. I have no weakness, little man. You will learn that over the centuries you serve me.”
“Never,” Knight managed to gasp, raising the pistols again and watching as they were slapped aside.
The Grandmaster chuckled and suddenly began to transform, his body shifting into the bat form similar to his followers…yet this was so much more terrifying. While the others were close to human size, the former Englishman was enormous, over nine feet tall, a twisted undead parody of life. The teeth in his horrific maw were huge, as long as a man’s hand and sharper than that of a shark or similar predator.
“You cannot fight me, little man. Cease your struggles and I will make this fast. Otherwise I will shatter your mind and body and force you to beg for my embrace,” the Grandmaster intoned, pulling Knight closer.
Richard Knight closed his eyes and slumped in the Grandmaster’s grasp, his surrender causing the former Englishman to chuckle and pull him closer. Opening his huge mouth wide, he aimed his teeth for the jugular vein, preparing to convert the American quickly and with only a bit of agony.
Just as the teeth were about to clamp down, Richard Knight exploded into action! Pulling his second grenade from his belt, he yanked the pin and threw it hard into the vampire’s huge mouth. With his other hand the military intelligence officer pulled out his knife and stabbed the monster under the chin, pinning the jaws together! Knight then lifted both of his feet and kicked hard, freeing himself and sending his body sailing across the deck!
Rolling further away, Knight covered his head as the loud explosion filled the airship’s interior. Looking up, the wreckage that was once the Grandmaster was a revolting site, especially since he was slowly healing. But the sheer devastation of the vampire’s body would ensure that rebuilding process to take weeks, possibly months. More than enough time for Richard Knight to ensure this monster would never harm another living creature.
***
“A coffin?” The Grandmaster wheezed three days later, his body still a horrible wreck almost as destroyed as it had been by his fall into the volcano. “This will hold me only for a short time. Then I will return, greater than ever!”
The metal coffin lid was open and the Grandmaster’s body was bound within with heavy steel chains. Richard Knight opened the box after placing the vampire and his new home into the deep pit, wanting the monster to be aware of his final moments in the world of humanity.
“No, you won’t. Goodbye,” Knight replied and climbed out of the pit. He reached for the cement mixer’s lever and pulled, watching as a ton of quick drying substance poured down on the monster. The coffin lid slammed shut, the crate filled with cement and the pit began to quickly fill. It was only moments before only the gray hardening cement was visible, the pit gone. The cement was to be poured in the morning, so the workers would no doubt be grateful at being able to move to the next part of the project.
Another job done, Richard Knight turned and walked away. He paused to look back at the sign over the site, apparently this structure was going to be called the Empire State Building. Knight nodded. Here was hoping it would last…
THE END