The creature: part 9

Fighting dragons

The Triverse is
Mid-Earth, an alternate 1970s London
Max-Earth, a vision of the 26th century
Palinor, where magic is real

Previously: A creature called a kengto is attacking London. The police, the army and an elite monster hunting crew have been sent to bring it down. The SDC are aboard a military airship, readying for battle.

This chapter unlocks 27 May 2022. Early access subscribers can read immediately.

Late shift
On duty: All officers

London.
1973. February.

They stood on the deck of the HMS George V, all the detectives of the Specialist Dimensional Command, each gathered to lend their support to London’s most urgent need: the hunting of an enraged kengto. The airship was staffed with navy officers, highly trained in aerial combat if not this specific enemy, backed up by the professional monster hunters who called themselves the Six Blades.

DC Frank Holland was the first to say it out loud. “What the fuck are we even doing here?”

Kaminski held an unlit cigarette between his lips, the cold wind repeatedly extinguishing his lighter. “Freezing our balls off,” he said, “and about to get eaten. And apparently I can’t even have a final smoke.”

“You haven’t seen the Six Blades in action,” Styles said, grinning nervously. “At the museum they very nearly had it. If it hadn’t flown off.”

Holland harrumphed. “What’s next? Breathing fire? Laser eyes?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Kaminski murmured, finally managing to ignite the cigarette. He inhaled, feeling as if his life depended on it, as if it were powering him up for what was to come. He couldn’t help but wish he were back on Max-Earth, in that fancy hotel. With Nisha.

“Miller wanted us all here,” Clarke said, hands in his pockets and looking miserable as ever. “He thought it would look good in the press. SDC taking on London’s terror. You know what he’s like.”

“SDC wiped out by London’s terror,” Kaminski said. He closed his eyes, took a breath. The cigarette was at least countering the foul smell of London’s air; they were just high enough to be in the thick of the smog zone, where it hovered menacingly above the city. He’d heard the captain say something about using it to disguise their approach, which seemed pretty tenuous to Kaminski.

“Makes me wish for a good, old fashioned murder,” Holland said.

Chakraborty was stood on the other side of the deck, leaning on the rail to look down over the city, her her tied back tightly to stop it flapping wildly in the wind. She’d been distant since they’d got back from their jaunt to the future. Professional at work, more focused than usual if anything, but she’d resisted any opportunities to link up outside of hours. No trips to the pub. She’d been clocking out and catching the tube home, barely saying a word to him other than what was needed to run a case. He could still feel his fingers on her body, could still see every curve. It still felt so utterly right, even if it had ruined everything. That one night in the future, when she’d come to his room and they’d made love. That’s what it had felt like to Kaminski: not just fucking, but something more, something truer. He’d always wanted her, but hadn’t thought to do anything about it. She was way outside his league and had never shown the slightest hint of being interested. Plus, she’d been sleeping with Callihan.

There were times now when he wondered if he’d dreamt the whole thing. Whatever he’d felt, she hadn’t. She’d been there for her own reasons.

“Body armour.”

Kaminski blinked out of his reverie. “What?”

It was Hobb, holding up a bulletproof vest. “They had a stash of these below deck. Said we should all wear them.” She handed them out to each of them.

Placing it over his head and tightening it at the waist, Kaminski smirked. “This really going to stop a foot-long claw?”

“It’s got a better chance than your suit.”

He shrugged. “Point taken.”

The day had rapidly descended into night, the sky to the west already dark. The city glowed the honey orange of sodium lamps, stretching out in all directions. A dark sliver of water snaked its way through the middle. The creature was down there, somewhere.

The five members of the Six Blades were hunkered down at the rear of the ship, sat on a pile of palettes and crates, the sailors giving them a wide berth. The ship’s engines rumbled beneath their feet.

“Priority number one,” Halbad said, “is to cripple its ability to fly. If we can keep it grounded, we’ll have a good chance of finishing it off. Until then, it’s on you, Ngarkh.”

Ellenbrin nodded. “I already took out one of its eyes,” she said, running a finger along one of her arrows. “I mean, it’s still got three others, but it’s a start.”

Halbad nodded. “You and Ngarkh do your double-team thing. See how much damage you can do. Erik?”

The old wizard sighed. “I’m not much use in a fight here, but I’ve laced all your weapons with a toxin which will cause it some difficulty. Get an arrow in it or a good swipe and it’s going to feel it. If we’re lucky it might experience partial paralysis.”

“Let’s not rely too much on luck,” snorted Seline. “This needs to be a fast job. Longer we wait, the greater the chances it gets bigger.”

“It’s definitely feeding off something here,” Ellenbrin said, “something which is enhancing its ability to metamorphose.”

Halbad sniffed disdainfully. “Maybe it likes the air here.” He stood up. “Let’s get up on deck and ready. Sooner we finish the job, the sooner we get to go home.”

The beast did not wait to be hunted. When it struck, it struck hard, landing with immense force on the upper deck and swatting four sailors overboard to their doom. Clarke felt the entire airship shudder under its weight. The damned thing was near the size of an elephant, somehow even larger than it had been at the museum. A fear gripped him, as the creature thundered about the deck, playing with any humans that got in its way, like a cat playing with baby birds. It had three pairs of legs, more eyes than Clarke could count, a jaw hinged like a crocodile’s and a body like a lion with scales. The long, serrated twin tails looked more like metal chins.

Clarke recoiled with the rest of the SDC, moving as far and and fast from the creature as the deck would permit, which wasn’t far. He pulled the gun from his holster. It felt heavy; he wasn’t used to carrying a weapon and it didn’t sit well in his hand. Taking aim, he fired. The bullet was never going to do the creature any serious injury but it did give it pause, distracting it from terrorising the airship’s crew. That afforded them enough time to direct the deck guns inward, the cannons firing a point blank range into the animal’s hide. Its skin was blackened and burned from the impact, smoke filling the air, but was not breached, the shells spiralling off into the night. Before the nearest cannon was able to be reloaded the kengto had jumped onto it and began to tear at its mounting, sparks flying as it wrenched it from the housing.

The doors to the lower decks were flung open and the winged form of a koth bounded up, followed quickly by the other Six Blades.

“Round two!” shouted the koth, using its wings to spring forward, swinging up onto the kengto’s back and grabbing its jaws. The creature tried to reach the koth with its claws but was unable to reach, scrabbling fruitlessly.

Another cannon shot, again ricocheting off the creature’s armour-like skin, but this time the shell impacted on the metal frame encasing the airship’s balloon. The ship lurched as the curved metalwork peeled away, a hole clearly visible.

They were going down.

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Thanks for reading! I got this out on a Friday, so I’m just about back to the normal schedule after the Easter holidays.

There are some exciting bits and pieces happening at the moment, which I can’t talk about just yet. One involves an older project of mine, and is the culmination of a huge amount of work over the years. More on that soon.