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Mysterious blueprints? Blueprints of certain Pan-Asian tanks mayhaps?
Siwan Khan will get what's coming to him hopefully. Or lose another limb and live to annoy another day. I guess the second is more likely.
Siwan Khan will get what's coming to him hopefully. Or lose another limb and live to annoy another day. I guess the second is more likely.
Dear Yogi!
I just want to inform you, that I am, with hundreds of readers along, eagerly awaiting the next chapter of this greatest aar ever!
Honestly, whenever there is an unpdate, it's time for a single malt and a cigar while enjoying the read.
I just want to inform you, that I am, with hundreds of readers along, eagerly awaiting the next chapter of this greatest aar ever!
Honestly, whenever there is an unpdate, it's time for a single malt and a cigar while enjoying the read.
Just to bring this AAr to the attention of younger forum members... and to encourage an update: everyone,especialle new readers: try this aar, read the pdf and w2irte some comments!
Thank you, Blut. The time to pull out the stopper on the whisky bottle is tomorrow Friday before lunch (around 11 AM CET), when the long and climactic chapter of the "assault on Shiwan Khan's palace" story arc will be posted. Since you have been waiting so long for the next update, the friday after that I'll post the next chapter in the Indy in Yonaguni arc and some more James Bond the one after that. All these chapters are done or half done, but you deserve some predictability in the updating, for once.
Thank you for staying with the story!
Yeeeee haw !!!!!!!!!
Time for the Laphroig 18 and Cuban Cigars!
...
After work.
Just another idea: Would you post this Story also on the Alternate Discussion Board, which has quite a big range of readers, which would love to read your work?
Time for the Laphroig 18 and Cuban Cigars!
...
After work.
Just another idea: Would you post this Story also on the Alternate Discussion Board, which has quite a big range of readers, which would love to read your work?
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San Francisco, California
Viceroyalty of America, Pan-Asian Empire
Wednesday, September 19th 1940
In the golden gloom of Shiwan Khan’s throne hall, the Viceroy’s Own Imperial Guardsmen fought smoke and shadows. It was a losing fight. Giant black shadows flickered on the walls as their foe moved unseen between them like the grim reaper, dealing out death as he went. Bright crimson flowers spattered the glass-tiled floor, and crimson rivulets ran down the glistening walls. Over the mayhem, the screaming and the intermittent gunfire, an eerie laughter echoed through the former ballroom, a fitting music to accompany the ongoing Dance Macabre.
‘Where is your master?’ the harsh, cruel voice of their unseen tormentor mocked the terrified Pan-Asian soldiers. ‘Why does the great Shiwan Khan let his soldiers die like dogs?’
‘I am here, Ying Ko!’ the Golden Master announced as he walked proudly into the hall from the grand entrance furthest away from the throne. He still wore only the golden silk trousers he had donned for his intended night with Hannah Reitsch. The steel foot of his mechanical leg scraped the floor as he went. It clashed strangely with a man seemingly in the flower of his life, the very image of health and physical power.
‘Leave my slaves alone – your battle is with me!’
Immediately Shiwan Khan flicked out of sight as he clouded the mind of every person in the room to become virtually invisible, just like the Shadow was.
And as the Imperial Guardsmen scattered to the far end of the room, the old foes clashed again; a battle of powerful minds as well as superbly honed muscles and combat techniques honed to point of perfection. The two combatants flickered as if projected by a defective camera as each sought to veil his own moves and disclose those of the other. It seemed impossible that such savage exchange of kicks and blows could go on for any length of time – but the Shadow and Shiwan Khan were evenly matched. The crime fighter was, if marginally, the faster and cooler of the two, whereas the Viceroy had the more brute strength. If he was somewhat hampered by his heavy artificial leg, it also proved a formidable weapon, which the Shadow had a hard time countering. A normal kick could be blocked, but any solid hit by the steel appendage would necessarily cause major damage. Already the American had suffered a bad knock that hadn’t ended the fight only because he had been able to roll with the blow. A feral grin of unholy triumph split Shiwan Khan’s face.
‘This... time... you will not escape, Ying Ko!’ the Pan-Asian shouted. ‘You will die today by the hands of Shiwan Khan! Or do you wish to plead for your life?!’
‘You have mastered your prosthetic leg admirably, Shiwan Khan!’ the Shadow admitted, backing away a step to deliver a follow up taunt. ‘You fight even better with it than without. Too bad it wasn’t your head you had replaced – given the same degree of improvement, you might even have been able of coherent thought!’
‘AAHH!’ the Viceroy roared in fury. ‘Die American, die screaming like soon your entire rotten race!’
Again the two closed, acting on momentary flashes of sight, hearing, even smell. Blows and kicks followed each other so quickly that even with an unclouded vision of the duel, they would have been hard for the untrained eye to follow. But equally quick were the dodges, the blocks and jumps out of harm’s way. No one without almost superhuman senses could have survived the fight more than mere instants, but neither The Shadow nor Shiwan Khan could gain any permanent advantage over the other.
The soldiers of the Imperial Guard lined the walls, watching the flickering shapes with awe. They held their sub-machineguns and rifles at the ready but dared not fire, for fear of hitting the Viceroy.
‘You’re running out of time, Ying Ko!’ Shiwan Khan taunted his foe. ‘I have summoned Nag Po Lama and his acolytes – they will be here within moments. If you cannot defeat me before then, you shall be overwhelmed!’
The Shadow did not answer, but frowned more deeply as he pressed home another attack. Shiwan Khan tried to block, but the crime fighter had foreseen this, and suddenly held on to the Viceroy’s wrist with a death grip. In the next instant, the Shadow’s elbow smashed into Shiwan Khan’s chin, sending him staggering backwards. As he did so, the Nemesis of crime followed up with a kick to the body. The Viceroy seemingly shrugged off the blows and recovered into a defensive posture, but from his breathing, the Shadow could tell he had been rattled.
‘Wait here!’ Frank Mitsui whispered, indicating whit his hand where the group should wait. It was outside the grand entrance to the throne room. Hiding behind the inevitably gilded doorframe, the group could stay out of sight, while Mitsui and Buck could even behold the epic battle going on inside.
‘I sure hope Master Chiun has been able to deal with the Black Monks!’ Buck Rogers whispered. ‘If he hasn’t, they’ll catch us passing through here. How do you suppose we’d manage against them?’
‘You wouldn’t last more than seconds’ Frank said with a shrug. ‘Let’s just pray that doesn’t happen.’
‘Shhh! Someone’s coming!’ Hannah warned, looking nervously down the carpeted corridor. Indeed, soft steps were coming closer. Despite them being faint, there was no question about a stealthy approach. Whoever it was, didn’t care if he was heard.
‘Nag Po Lama arrives!’ Shiwan Khan announced triumphant as he spied in the corner of his eye a black-robed figure enter the room. For all response, The Shadow smiled.
The newcomer threw back the hood covering his face, indeed the whole set of robes fell from his shoulders. Although he was East Asian too, it was now obvious he was much older, shorter and slimmer than the leader of the Black Monks. Unkempt grey hair stood in tufts from his temples and his simple black clothes were spattered with blood. The apparently frail old man smiled like a wolf baring his teeth.
‘The Master of Sinanju!’
The shout came unbidden to Shiwan Khan, who could not repress a slight hint of panic from creeping into his voice. A mournful groan came from his soldiers. They all expected to die now.
‘Nag Po and his lot of lard-worshippers will not be joining you Shiwan, not now and not ever’, Chiun explained with a disdainful grin, emphasised with a huge glob of spit on the floor.
‘Fire you idiots!’ Shiwan Khan screamed and next to automatically, his men raised their weapons and complied. A barrage of automatic fire swept the hall. Shiwan Khan and the Shadow hit the floor, instinctively covering their heads with their hands. Chiun smiled and walked through the murderous crossfire with supreme serenity, stepping this way and that as he effortlessly took in the aim of every barrel levelled at him, avoiding their projectiles with the smallest possible margin. The edges of his loose clothes rippled as bullets tore through them. Buck, Hannah and the others watched the surreal scene with open mouths.
In the corner of one eye, Chiun noticed Hannah’s head sticking out behind the frame of the entrance. He also noticed a Pan-Asian rifleman foregoing the impossible target Chiun made in favour of a more attainable one. There was no time for a warning, and the non-stop thunderstorm of gunfire would have made it impossible to hear anyway. Instead, Chiun made one giant leap which placed him right in the path of the approaching bullet. It wasn’t a suicidal act – Chiun timed his move so that the bullet would not necessarily shred any vital organs, but with speeds so great and margins of errors so small, even he could not be entirely certain of the outcome.
A great roar of joy came from the Pan-Asians as the Master of Sinanju recoiled violently and blood spattered the floor behind him. The bullet, only slightly deviated from impacting in Chiun’s soft tissue buried itself into the doorframe right next to Hannah’s head. She hurriedly retreated back into cover.
Chiun knew how bad he had been hurt. He could shut off the effects of shock and pain, but the blood loss, which was considerable, didn’t give him much time to act. Counting down the heartbeats, he turned and crossed the floor in great leaps, like a lizard running on water. His aim was straight for Shiwan Khan. The Viceroy jumped to his feet, intending to defend himself, but the small Korean was too fast for him – the Master of Sinanju finished his last leap with a shattering jump kick to Shiwan Khan’s face. For any lesser man, it would have been instantly fatal, but the Golden Master was a martial artist in his own right, and partially rolled with the blow. Nonetheless, he fell backwards with a scream. Chiun, however, landed heavily on one knee, nursing his injured side, and did not rise.
‘Master Chiun!’ the Shadow shouted, advancing on the injured Korean, but the Master of Sinanju waved him back.
‘Finish off Shiwan Khan, Ying Ko!’ he shouted. ‘I can manage!’
The Shadow turned to comply, and at this, Shiwan Khan rose groggily from the floor, holding the side of his head, and darted towards his throne, on which he pressed a secret button. Immediately a panel slid into the wall behind the throne to reveal a hidden passage. It was obviously the Viceroy’s intention to escape through it. But before he could continue, the Shadow was behind him, holding a Colt automatic to his temple. No threats were necessary – Shiwan Khan instantly froze.
‘There it is!’ Frank Mitsui shouted, pointing at the secret passage. ‘I told you it had to be here!’ Mitsui and The Shadow had agreed early in the planning of the raid that the only realistic means of escape would be Shiwan Khan’s own escape vehicle – in all probability a rocket ship like the one his father had used to flee the Ghurka raid on his secret stronghold a few months back.
‘Come on, that’s our way out!’ Mitsui exhorted the others. ‘Jericho, take Master Chiun!’
Jericho Druke promptly ran forward to lift the now unconscious Chiun and carry him like a baby in his arms. Indeed, the minuscule Korean required but little more effort from the herculean Negro. None of Shiwan Khan’s men dared to interfere while their Master was held hostage.
Led by Frank Mitsui and with the Shadow and his captive making up the tail, the raiding party advanced to the end of the short corridor. Shiwan Khan’s guards followed at a prudent distance. It ended with a slightly curved metal wall, pierced by an open hatch, leading to a small circular room with four plush seats, like those of a airplane cockpit, all facing inwards. Before one of them was a small instrument panel with a flight stick.
‘You intend to escape with my rocket ship?’ Shiwan Khan asked, apparently shrugging off the effects of Chiun’s hit. ‘Good luck, it will only carry four!’
The Shadow swore under his breath. ‘Colonel Reitsch, will you be able to fly this thing?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘I might. The instruments look a lot the blueprints Professor von Braun showed me...’
Shiwan Khan laughed contemptuously. ‘Of course they do, silly woman! You copied those blueprints for us when you where under our hypnotic control! Or had you forgot how you betrayed your precious Reich?’
The Shadow ignored him. ‘Then you will fly, and take Chiun with you, since he’s wounded, and Frank because he’s the only one who can read the gauges for you. Besides, there will be no mercy for him – the Pan-Asians will consider him a traitor. Short round, you will share a seat with Colonel Reitsch. It will be uncomfortable, but you two together weigh no more than a big man. The rest of you, I cannot speak for.’
‘Shadow, no! I need to stay and search for Doctor Jones!’ the youngster objected. ‘We can’t be certain he was sent to Fu Manchu! He could be...’
Hannah shook her head. ‘No, Short Round, he is gone. Shiwan Khan spoke of it to impress on me that I should not hope Indy would break out and rescue me, since he was already across the Pacific. I am sorry, but Fu Manchu has him.’
‘Besides, the Pan-Asians will consider you a traitor as much as Frank’ The Shadow said. ‘That, and the fact that you’re light enough to go as extra passenger. You leave, end of discussion.’
‘And I will stay with the boss, Buck!’ Jericho said, his tone of voice as definitive as death itself.
‘The Hell you will!’ Buck challenged. ‘I’ll stay, if we can capture another plane The Shadow will need me to fly it!’
‘No Buck,’ Jericho insisted, more softly now. ‘You are a pilot too, and will need to be there to help Hannah and Frank fly this thing if something goes wrong... My place is with the boss. And besides, I’m much heavier than you, and we’ll be loading that thing to capacity. I believe weight is a big issue when it comes to rocket flight, isn’t that so Colonel Reitsch?’
Hannah stepped closer, looking forlorn, and put a small hand on Jericho’s herculean arm. ‘Jawohl Herr Druke, you’re quite correct. And also a very brave man. I will pray for your safe return. And... thank you’, she added, looking sideways at Buck, who looked away, embarrassed and mortified.
Jericho smiled blindingly, conspicuously loading his flare pistol with a monstrous 8-gauge slug cartridge. ‘Never fear for the fate of Jericho Druke, little Lady! It’s the Pan-asses that need to worry!’
‘Thank you, Jericho!’ The Shadow said simply. ‘But now we must hurry, if nothing else for the sake of Master Chiun. He’s losing a lot of blood and urgently needs medical attention.’
‘We might find some of the Elixir Vitae in the Rocket Ship’, Hannah said. ‘It would make sense for Shiwan Khan to have a supply in his escape vehicle.’
The annoyed frown of the Viceroy indicated the Aviatrix was probably correct on that account.
Without further discussion, Buck and Frank strapped down in two of the seats while Jericho did the same with the unconscious Chiun. Hannah and Short Round squeezed awkwardly into the fourth one. So that she could reach all the controls, Short Round had to fit in behind and to one side, being partially squashed by the German pilotesse. The youngster was flushed with embarrassment.
When all were set, the giant agent of The Shadow stepped outside.
‘Goodbye, and good luck!’ Jericho shouted, while The Shadow limited himself to a nod.
‘See you back in the East!’ Buck shouted as an encouragement as Hannah flipped the switch to close the door. It slid closed with a hiss of compressed air, and the three men left in the corridor hurried to back away back into the hall. Moments later the side of the rocket ship slid up, to be replaced with a jet of orange flame that exploded out into the short passage for an instant, until a blast door slammed shut before the opening in the launching tube. A deafening roar shook the entire Palace Hotel as the rocket rose over the fallen city of San Francisco on raging tower of fire, climbing faster and faster towards the darkening sky. Soon it was only a speck of light, and then it was gone.
In the ballroom, The Shadow and Jericho exchanged sullen glances with Shiwan Khan’s guards.
‘So now what, Ying Ko?’ Shiwan Khan asked. ‘You kill me in cold blood and leave your minion to face the music?’
‘No!’ the dreadful voice answered. ‘You’re coming back with me to face justice – you will be given a fair trial and then, I have no doubt, executed.’
‘Gong back with you?!’ Shiwan Khan laughed. ‘Do not be ridiculous, Ying Ko! I do not doubt you can escape my men, but you can’t do it with me in tow! Come on then, kill me and be done with it – if you have the guts!’
‘I hate to admit that he’s right boss’, Jericho grumbled. ‘We’re not getting out of here with him – and we’re not getting out at all if he can prevent you from clouding his men’s vision. And I guess he can. He’s going to have to face justice right here, right now. Waste the bastard! Or even better – allow me!’
‘No!’ The Shadow protested. ‘We’re not murderers!’ But his voice, for once, was full of hesitation even if the Colt never wavered from the Viceroy’s temple.
‘Then I have a proposal to end this under terms compatible with your warped sense of honour, Ying Ko!’ Shiwan Khan offered. ‘Release me, and let us finish our single combat, warrior to warrior. If you win, you will be free to go with your sensitive morals unbesmirched. And if I win, I promise to spare the life of your pet gorilla here. What do you say?’
The Shadow considered the offer for the barest moment. In truth, he had little choice in the matter.
Jericho sighed deeply, sensing a decision had been made. ‘Kick his ass all the way to Xanadu, boss!’
For all answer, The Shadow pushed Shiwan Khan away and holstered his pistol, immediately clouding the vision of everyone in the room as he assumed a Kung Fu guard.
Shiwan Khan whirled and struck back with the awesome power of his mind. Like flickering ghosts, the Golden Master and the Nemesis of Crime faced off once more for one final battle to settle their long conflict once and for all.
The fight had seemed endless, as both men drove themselves past pain, past numbness, past despair and exhaustion. But finally, after thirty minutes of even battle, the end was in sight. Shiwan Khan’s superior strength, and the deadly weapon he had in the form of his steel prosthetic leg had begun to tell against The Shadow’s greater mobility and dexterity. It was now all the crime fighter could do to fend off the unending succession of blows and kicks raining down on him, and while he still connected a riposte from time to time, more often he smarted under heavy hits from the viceroy. His clouding was growing erratic now, flickering ever more pronouncedly while his opponents held fast.
‘You grow weak!’ Shiwan Khan taunted him. ‘How you must regret now not simply pulling that trigger!’
The Shadow smiled bitterly, agreeing secretly. It would have been a good time to compromise with his high principles... but no. Lamont Cranston could perhaps compromise with evil for the greater good but not The Shadow. He was harsh and unforgiving, striking fear in the hearts of evil men, but also just. Otherwise, would he be different than those he haunted? And yet, Shiwan Khan must not escape. It was time to make his most desperate gambit.
‘No, Shiwan’, he replied. ‘You were dead from the moment this fight begun. And it is time to end it now. Prepare to face justice.’
Shiwan Khan braced for a final, desperate attack. Instead, he felt his enemy’s psychic defences crumble. The Shadow’s clouding dissolved, and he stood exposed, plainly visible to everyone in the room. It took Shiwan Khan an instant to realise that his own clouding was in fact being reinforced, rather than counteracted by The Shadow, hiding him completely from the gaze of his men. And Ying Ko had stepped closer to him.
In a single, eternal instant, Shiwan Khan realised what his Nemesis had planned, while a voice, his own voice, or one clouded to sound like it, shouted “Fire”!
His desperately shrieked countermand drowned in massive burst of gunfire, as three dozen Imperial Guardsmen reacted automatically to the command and opened fire on the lone, black-clad American.
Hundreds of bullets converged on The Shadow – but between many of the guardsmen and their target stood the invisible barrier of Shiwan Khan, who absorbed a substantial part of the barrage before toppling like a broken doll. A substantial part, but not all of it. The Shadow too shuddered and stumbled to and fro as he received dozens of hits. With Shiwan Khan turning visible as he fell, the firing stopped as suddenly as it begun. As a frightened silence fell over the former ballroom, The Shadow toppled and fell.
‘Boss! NOOOOO!’ Jericho shouted as he ran to kneel besides the broken, black shape on the floor.
Among the Guardsmen, Field Marshall Terauchi stepped forward, a smoking pistol still in his hands.
‘You idiots!’ he shouted. ‘You have shot the Viceroy! Everybody out, right now! Fetch a doctor if you want to live!’
Shocked and frightened out of their wits, the soldiers were not slow to comply. As a disorganised mob, they ran out of the doors, leaving the Field Marshall alone with the dying and the weeping. He picked up a discarded submachine gun before advancing across the room towards the feebly twitching Viceroy. With a desperate effort, whining with pain, the dying viceroy rolled over on his back to speak.
‘Teer-ah-uuuchiii!’ Shiwan Khan gasped, spitting out and chocking on his own blood. ‘Quick-k-k...ly! It’ssss not-t-t too late! I have... a supply of... the Elixir... Vitae... in my quarters, two g-g-lass vials! Go!’
‘No.’ Terauchi said simply. ‘You have defiled my honour, that of my ancestors and that of my country, you have threatened my family and tormented and humiliated my officers, all better men than you by far, you lowly Manchurian criminal scum! But I will have my revenge. I would have preferred to let you die screaming, perhaps burnt alive, perhaps crucified or staked, as you have done to so many. But time is of the essence! So...’
Slowly, giving the Viceroy the opportunity to see with terror-filled and bulging eyes, Terauchi pointed the Zhuge SMG at Shiwan Khan’s stomach.
‘NO! W-wait! I- I-‘
‘DIE!’ Terauchi screamed and emptied the clip straight into Shiwan Khan’s belly. Gore spattered in all directions as the Viceroy howled, shrieked and arched his entire body in a final excruciating spasm before going limp as death finally released his soul from the tortured ruin that had been his body.
Terauchi threw down the SMG in disgust and walked over to where, close by, Jericho Druke wept at the fallen Shadow’s side. The Japanese officer knelt there too. The masked crime fighter was still breathing shallowly, but bleeding from countless wounds.
‘Ying Ko – I salute your courage!’ he greeted the dying man. ‘You die a hero, your unworthy foe defeated and undone.’
The Shadow nodded slowly. ‘You honour me, Field Marshall. But what about Jericho? The Viceroy and I had an agreement...’
Terauchi nodded. ‘However much I despised him, Shiwan Khan was my commanding officer, and I’m thus bound by his word. I cannot let your man just walk away, but I give you my word that he will be fairly treated and exchanged back to the Americans at the first opportunity. Will this suffice?’
The Shadow nodded. ‘Yes. It will have to. Jericho, I think- w-we can trust the Field Marshall. Do as he says.’
‘Yes boss!’ the ebony giant said meekly.
‘Are you in much pain, Ying Ko?’ Terauchi asked.
The Shadow, shuddered slightly. ‘I would -not- turn down... a dose of morphine... ah... if you have one to spare...’
The Japanese shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. But I would be honoured if you allowed me to end your suffering by means of the sword of my ancestors. It cuts cleanly and precisely – a swift and honourable death for a warrior like you.’
‘Don’t touch the boss if you want to live!’ Jericho shouted.
The Shadow pondered only for an instant. ‘Jericho, help me sit. The Field Marshall is doing me a favour.’
‘But boss!’
‘No butts! My time has come. Go back to our lines, and keep up the fight, you hear me? Never give up! Never surrender, until the day our country is free and at peace again.’
‘I promise, boss!’ Jericho pledged with tears streaming down his cheeks as he placed the limp body in a sitting position. ‘You saved my life once – it is yours now, dead or alive!’
‘Goodbye then, Jericho- Live well, and tell Margo... tell Margo...’
‘I know boss. I know.’
‘Thank you! When you feel up to it, Field Marshall...’
Terauchi, standing behind the sitting crime-fighter drew his katana and lifted it, ready to strike the decapitating blow. ‘Good journey, Ying Ko.’
The blade flashed, golden reflexes dancing on its mirror-polished surface. The headless body toppled over, and Jericho Druke let out a wail of soul-rending grief.
Viceroyalty of America, Pan-Asian Empire
Wednesday, September 19th 1940
In the golden gloom of Shiwan Khan’s throne hall, the Viceroy’s Own Imperial Guardsmen fought smoke and shadows. It was a losing fight. Giant black shadows flickered on the walls as their foe moved unseen between them like the grim reaper, dealing out death as he went. Bright crimson flowers spattered the glass-tiled floor, and crimson rivulets ran down the glistening walls. Over the mayhem, the screaming and the intermittent gunfire, an eerie laughter echoed through the former ballroom, a fitting music to accompany the ongoing Dance Macabre.
‘Where is your master?’ the harsh, cruel voice of their unseen tormentor mocked the terrified Pan-Asian soldiers. ‘Why does the great Shiwan Khan let his soldiers die like dogs?’
‘I am here, Ying Ko!’ the Golden Master announced as he walked proudly into the hall from the grand entrance furthest away from the throne. He still wore only the golden silk trousers he had donned for his intended night with Hannah Reitsch. The steel foot of his mechanical leg scraped the floor as he went. It clashed strangely with a man seemingly in the flower of his life, the very image of health and physical power.
‘Leave my slaves alone – your battle is with me!’
Immediately Shiwan Khan flicked out of sight as he clouded the mind of every person in the room to become virtually invisible, just like the Shadow was.
And as the Imperial Guardsmen scattered to the far end of the room, the old foes clashed again; a battle of powerful minds as well as superbly honed muscles and combat techniques honed to point of perfection. The two combatants flickered as if projected by a defective camera as each sought to veil his own moves and disclose those of the other. It seemed impossible that such savage exchange of kicks and blows could go on for any length of time – but the Shadow and Shiwan Khan were evenly matched. The crime fighter was, if marginally, the faster and cooler of the two, whereas the Viceroy had the more brute strength. If he was somewhat hampered by his heavy artificial leg, it also proved a formidable weapon, which the Shadow had a hard time countering. A normal kick could be blocked, but any solid hit by the steel appendage would necessarily cause major damage. Already the American had suffered a bad knock that hadn’t ended the fight only because he had been able to roll with the blow. A feral grin of unholy triumph split Shiwan Khan’s face.
‘This... time... you will not escape, Ying Ko!’ the Pan-Asian shouted. ‘You will die today by the hands of Shiwan Khan! Or do you wish to plead for your life?!’
‘You have mastered your prosthetic leg admirably, Shiwan Khan!’ the Shadow admitted, backing away a step to deliver a follow up taunt. ‘You fight even better with it than without. Too bad it wasn’t your head you had replaced – given the same degree of improvement, you might even have been able of coherent thought!’
‘AAHH!’ the Viceroy roared in fury. ‘Die American, die screaming like soon your entire rotten race!’
Again the two closed, acting on momentary flashes of sight, hearing, even smell. Blows and kicks followed each other so quickly that even with an unclouded vision of the duel, they would have been hard for the untrained eye to follow. But equally quick were the dodges, the blocks and jumps out of harm’s way. No one without almost superhuman senses could have survived the fight more than mere instants, but neither The Shadow nor Shiwan Khan could gain any permanent advantage over the other.
The soldiers of the Imperial Guard lined the walls, watching the flickering shapes with awe. They held their sub-machineguns and rifles at the ready but dared not fire, for fear of hitting the Viceroy.
‘You’re running out of time, Ying Ko!’ Shiwan Khan taunted his foe. ‘I have summoned Nag Po Lama and his acolytes – they will be here within moments. If you cannot defeat me before then, you shall be overwhelmed!’
The Shadow did not answer, but frowned more deeply as he pressed home another attack. Shiwan Khan tried to block, but the crime fighter had foreseen this, and suddenly held on to the Viceroy’s wrist with a death grip. In the next instant, the Shadow’s elbow smashed into Shiwan Khan’s chin, sending him staggering backwards. As he did so, the Nemesis of crime followed up with a kick to the body. The Viceroy seemingly shrugged off the blows and recovered into a defensive posture, but from his breathing, the Shadow could tell he had been rattled.
****
‘Wait here!’ Frank Mitsui whispered, indicating whit his hand where the group should wait. It was outside the grand entrance to the throne room. Hiding behind the inevitably gilded doorframe, the group could stay out of sight, while Mitsui and Buck could even behold the epic battle going on inside.
‘I sure hope Master Chiun has been able to deal with the Black Monks!’ Buck Rogers whispered. ‘If he hasn’t, they’ll catch us passing through here. How do you suppose we’d manage against them?’
‘You wouldn’t last more than seconds’ Frank said with a shrug. ‘Let’s just pray that doesn’t happen.’
‘Shhh! Someone’s coming!’ Hannah warned, looking nervously down the carpeted corridor. Indeed, soft steps were coming closer. Despite them being faint, there was no question about a stealthy approach. Whoever it was, didn’t care if he was heard.
****
‘Nag Po Lama arrives!’ Shiwan Khan announced triumphant as he spied in the corner of his eye a black-robed figure enter the room. For all response, The Shadow smiled.
The newcomer threw back the hood covering his face, indeed the whole set of robes fell from his shoulders. Although he was East Asian too, it was now obvious he was much older, shorter and slimmer than the leader of the Black Monks. Unkempt grey hair stood in tufts from his temples and his simple black clothes were spattered with blood. The apparently frail old man smiled like a wolf baring his teeth.
‘The Master of Sinanju!’
The shout came unbidden to Shiwan Khan, who could not repress a slight hint of panic from creeping into his voice. A mournful groan came from his soldiers. They all expected to die now.
‘Nag Po and his lot of lard-worshippers will not be joining you Shiwan, not now and not ever’, Chiun explained with a disdainful grin, emphasised with a huge glob of spit on the floor.
‘Fire you idiots!’ Shiwan Khan screamed and next to automatically, his men raised their weapons and complied. A barrage of automatic fire swept the hall. Shiwan Khan and the Shadow hit the floor, instinctively covering their heads with their hands. Chiun smiled and walked through the murderous crossfire with supreme serenity, stepping this way and that as he effortlessly took in the aim of every barrel levelled at him, avoiding their projectiles with the smallest possible margin. The edges of his loose clothes rippled as bullets tore through them. Buck, Hannah and the others watched the surreal scene with open mouths.
In the corner of one eye, Chiun noticed Hannah’s head sticking out behind the frame of the entrance. He also noticed a Pan-Asian rifleman foregoing the impossible target Chiun made in favour of a more attainable one. There was no time for a warning, and the non-stop thunderstorm of gunfire would have made it impossible to hear anyway. Instead, Chiun made one giant leap which placed him right in the path of the approaching bullet. It wasn’t a suicidal act – Chiun timed his move so that the bullet would not necessarily shred any vital organs, but with speeds so great and margins of errors so small, even he could not be entirely certain of the outcome.
A great roar of joy came from the Pan-Asians as the Master of Sinanju recoiled violently and blood spattered the floor behind him. The bullet, only slightly deviated from impacting in Chiun’s soft tissue buried itself into the doorframe right next to Hannah’s head. She hurriedly retreated back into cover.
Chiun knew how bad he had been hurt. He could shut off the effects of shock and pain, but the blood loss, which was considerable, didn’t give him much time to act. Counting down the heartbeats, he turned and crossed the floor in great leaps, like a lizard running on water. His aim was straight for Shiwan Khan. The Viceroy jumped to his feet, intending to defend himself, but the small Korean was too fast for him – the Master of Sinanju finished his last leap with a shattering jump kick to Shiwan Khan’s face. For any lesser man, it would have been instantly fatal, but the Golden Master was a martial artist in his own right, and partially rolled with the blow. Nonetheless, he fell backwards with a scream. Chiun, however, landed heavily on one knee, nursing his injured side, and did not rise.
‘Master Chiun!’ the Shadow shouted, advancing on the injured Korean, but the Master of Sinanju waved him back.
‘Finish off Shiwan Khan, Ying Ko!’ he shouted. ‘I can manage!’
The Shadow turned to comply, and at this, Shiwan Khan rose groggily from the floor, holding the side of his head, and darted towards his throne, on which he pressed a secret button. Immediately a panel slid into the wall behind the throne to reveal a hidden passage. It was obviously the Viceroy’s intention to escape through it. But before he could continue, the Shadow was behind him, holding a Colt automatic to his temple. No threats were necessary – Shiwan Khan instantly froze.
‘There it is!’ Frank Mitsui shouted, pointing at the secret passage. ‘I told you it had to be here!’ Mitsui and The Shadow had agreed early in the planning of the raid that the only realistic means of escape would be Shiwan Khan’s own escape vehicle – in all probability a rocket ship like the one his father had used to flee the Ghurka raid on his secret stronghold a few months back.
‘Come on, that’s our way out!’ Mitsui exhorted the others. ‘Jericho, take Master Chiun!’
Jericho Druke promptly ran forward to lift the now unconscious Chiun and carry him like a baby in his arms. Indeed, the minuscule Korean required but little more effort from the herculean Negro. None of Shiwan Khan’s men dared to interfere while their Master was held hostage.
Led by Frank Mitsui and with the Shadow and his captive making up the tail, the raiding party advanced to the end of the short corridor. Shiwan Khan’s guards followed at a prudent distance. It ended with a slightly curved metal wall, pierced by an open hatch, leading to a small circular room with four plush seats, like those of a airplane cockpit, all facing inwards. Before one of them was a small instrument panel with a flight stick.
‘You intend to escape with my rocket ship?’ Shiwan Khan asked, apparently shrugging off the effects of Chiun’s hit. ‘Good luck, it will only carry four!’
The Shadow swore under his breath. ‘Colonel Reitsch, will you be able to fly this thing?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘I might. The instruments look a lot the blueprints Professor von Braun showed me...’
Shiwan Khan laughed contemptuously. ‘Of course they do, silly woman! You copied those blueprints for us when you where under our hypnotic control! Or had you forgot how you betrayed your precious Reich?’
The Shadow ignored him. ‘Then you will fly, and take Chiun with you, since he’s wounded, and Frank because he’s the only one who can read the gauges for you. Besides, there will be no mercy for him – the Pan-Asians will consider him a traitor. Short round, you will share a seat with Colonel Reitsch. It will be uncomfortable, but you two together weigh no more than a big man. The rest of you, I cannot speak for.’
‘Shadow, no! I need to stay and search for Doctor Jones!’ the youngster objected. ‘We can’t be certain he was sent to Fu Manchu! He could be...’
Hannah shook her head. ‘No, Short Round, he is gone. Shiwan Khan spoke of it to impress on me that I should not hope Indy would break out and rescue me, since he was already across the Pacific. I am sorry, but Fu Manchu has him.’
‘Besides, the Pan-Asians will consider you a traitor as much as Frank’ The Shadow said. ‘That, and the fact that you’re light enough to go as extra passenger. You leave, end of discussion.’
‘And I will stay with the boss, Buck!’ Jericho said, his tone of voice as definitive as death itself.
‘The Hell you will!’ Buck challenged. ‘I’ll stay, if we can capture another plane The Shadow will need me to fly it!’
‘No Buck,’ Jericho insisted, more softly now. ‘You are a pilot too, and will need to be there to help Hannah and Frank fly this thing if something goes wrong... My place is with the boss. And besides, I’m much heavier than you, and we’ll be loading that thing to capacity. I believe weight is a big issue when it comes to rocket flight, isn’t that so Colonel Reitsch?’
Hannah stepped closer, looking forlorn, and put a small hand on Jericho’s herculean arm. ‘Jawohl Herr Druke, you’re quite correct. And also a very brave man. I will pray for your safe return. And... thank you’, she added, looking sideways at Buck, who looked away, embarrassed and mortified.
Jericho smiled blindingly, conspicuously loading his flare pistol with a monstrous 8-gauge slug cartridge. ‘Never fear for the fate of Jericho Druke, little Lady! It’s the Pan-asses that need to worry!’
‘Thank you, Jericho!’ The Shadow said simply. ‘But now we must hurry, if nothing else for the sake of Master Chiun. He’s losing a lot of blood and urgently needs medical attention.’
‘We might find some of the Elixir Vitae in the Rocket Ship’, Hannah said. ‘It would make sense for Shiwan Khan to have a supply in his escape vehicle.’
The annoyed frown of the Viceroy indicated the Aviatrix was probably correct on that account.
Without further discussion, Buck and Frank strapped down in two of the seats while Jericho did the same with the unconscious Chiun. Hannah and Short Round squeezed awkwardly into the fourth one. So that she could reach all the controls, Short Round had to fit in behind and to one side, being partially squashed by the German pilotesse. The youngster was flushed with embarrassment.
When all were set, the giant agent of The Shadow stepped outside.
‘Goodbye, and good luck!’ Jericho shouted, while The Shadow limited himself to a nod.
‘See you back in the East!’ Buck shouted as an encouragement as Hannah flipped the switch to close the door. It slid closed with a hiss of compressed air, and the three men left in the corridor hurried to back away back into the hall. Moments later the side of the rocket ship slid up, to be replaced with a jet of orange flame that exploded out into the short passage for an instant, until a blast door slammed shut before the opening in the launching tube. A deafening roar shook the entire Palace Hotel as the rocket rose over the fallen city of San Francisco on raging tower of fire, climbing faster and faster towards the darkening sky. Soon it was only a speck of light, and then it was gone.
In the ballroom, The Shadow and Jericho exchanged sullen glances with Shiwan Khan’s guards.
‘So now what, Ying Ko?’ Shiwan Khan asked. ‘You kill me in cold blood and leave your minion to face the music?’
‘No!’ the dreadful voice answered. ‘You’re coming back with me to face justice – you will be given a fair trial and then, I have no doubt, executed.’
‘Gong back with you?!’ Shiwan Khan laughed. ‘Do not be ridiculous, Ying Ko! I do not doubt you can escape my men, but you can’t do it with me in tow! Come on then, kill me and be done with it – if you have the guts!’
‘I hate to admit that he’s right boss’, Jericho grumbled. ‘We’re not getting out of here with him – and we’re not getting out at all if he can prevent you from clouding his men’s vision. And I guess he can. He’s going to have to face justice right here, right now. Waste the bastard! Or even better – allow me!’
‘No!’ The Shadow protested. ‘We’re not murderers!’ But his voice, for once, was full of hesitation even if the Colt never wavered from the Viceroy’s temple.
‘Then I have a proposal to end this under terms compatible with your warped sense of honour, Ying Ko!’ Shiwan Khan offered. ‘Release me, and let us finish our single combat, warrior to warrior. If you win, you will be free to go with your sensitive morals unbesmirched. And if I win, I promise to spare the life of your pet gorilla here. What do you say?’
The Shadow considered the offer for the barest moment. In truth, he had little choice in the matter.
Jericho sighed deeply, sensing a decision had been made. ‘Kick his ass all the way to Xanadu, boss!’
For all answer, The Shadow pushed Shiwan Khan away and holstered his pistol, immediately clouding the vision of everyone in the room as he assumed a Kung Fu guard.
Shiwan Khan whirled and struck back with the awesome power of his mind. Like flickering ghosts, the Golden Master and the Nemesis of Crime faced off once more for one final battle to settle their long conflict once and for all.
****
The fight had seemed endless, as both men drove themselves past pain, past numbness, past despair and exhaustion. But finally, after thirty minutes of even battle, the end was in sight. Shiwan Khan’s superior strength, and the deadly weapon he had in the form of his steel prosthetic leg had begun to tell against The Shadow’s greater mobility and dexterity. It was now all the crime fighter could do to fend off the unending succession of blows and kicks raining down on him, and while he still connected a riposte from time to time, more often he smarted under heavy hits from the viceroy. His clouding was growing erratic now, flickering ever more pronouncedly while his opponents held fast.
‘You grow weak!’ Shiwan Khan taunted him. ‘How you must regret now not simply pulling that trigger!’
The Shadow smiled bitterly, agreeing secretly. It would have been a good time to compromise with his high principles... but no. Lamont Cranston could perhaps compromise with evil for the greater good but not The Shadow. He was harsh and unforgiving, striking fear in the hearts of evil men, but also just. Otherwise, would he be different than those he haunted? And yet, Shiwan Khan must not escape. It was time to make his most desperate gambit.
‘No, Shiwan’, he replied. ‘You were dead from the moment this fight begun. And it is time to end it now. Prepare to face justice.’
Shiwan Khan braced for a final, desperate attack. Instead, he felt his enemy’s psychic defences crumble. The Shadow’s clouding dissolved, and he stood exposed, plainly visible to everyone in the room. It took Shiwan Khan an instant to realise that his own clouding was in fact being reinforced, rather than counteracted by The Shadow, hiding him completely from the gaze of his men. And Ying Ko had stepped closer to him.
In a single, eternal instant, Shiwan Khan realised what his Nemesis had planned, while a voice, his own voice, or one clouded to sound like it, shouted “Fire”!
His desperately shrieked countermand drowned in massive burst of gunfire, as three dozen Imperial Guardsmen reacted automatically to the command and opened fire on the lone, black-clad American.
Hundreds of bullets converged on The Shadow – but between many of the guardsmen and their target stood the invisible barrier of Shiwan Khan, who absorbed a substantial part of the barrage before toppling like a broken doll. A substantial part, but not all of it. The Shadow too shuddered and stumbled to and fro as he received dozens of hits. With Shiwan Khan turning visible as he fell, the firing stopped as suddenly as it begun. As a frightened silence fell over the former ballroom, The Shadow toppled and fell.
‘Boss! NOOOOO!’ Jericho shouted as he ran to kneel besides the broken, black shape on the floor.
Among the Guardsmen, Field Marshall Terauchi stepped forward, a smoking pistol still in his hands.
‘You idiots!’ he shouted. ‘You have shot the Viceroy! Everybody out, right now! Fetch a doctor if you want to live!’
Shocked and frightened out of their wits, the soldiers were not slow to comply. As a disorganised mob, they ran out of the doors, leaving the Field Marshall alone with the dying and the weeping. He picked up a discarded submachine gun before advancing across the room towards the feebly twitching Viceroy. With a desperate effort, whining with pain, the dying viceroy rolled over on his back to speak.
‘Teer-ah-uuuchiii!’ Shiwan Khan gasped, spitting out and chocking on his own blood. ‘Quick-k-k...ly! It’ssss not-t-t too late! I have... a supply of... the Elixir... Vitae... in my quarters, two g-g-lass vials! Go!’
‘No.’ Terauchi said simply. ‘You have defiled my honour, that of my ancestors and that of my country, you have threatened my family and tormented and humiliated my officers, all better men than you by far, you lowly Manchurian criminal scum! But I will have my revenge. I would have preferred to let you die screaming, perhaps burnt alive, perhaps crucified or staked, as you have done to so many. But time is of the essence! So...’
Slowly, giving the Viceroy the opportunity to see with terror-filled and bulging eyes, Terauchi pointed the Zhuge SMG at Shiwan Khan’s stomach.
‘NO! W-wait! I- I-‘
‘DIE!’ Terauchi screamed and emptied the clip straight into Shiwan Khan’s belly. Gore spattered in all directions as the Viceroy howled, shrieked and arched his entire body in a final excruciating spasm before going limp as death finally released his soul from the tortured ruin that had been his body.
Terauchi threw down the SMG in disgust and walked over to where, close by, Jericho Druke wept at the fallen Shadow’s side. The Japanese officer knelt there too. The masked crime fighter was still breathing shallowly, but bleeding from countless wounds.
‘Ying Ko – I salute your courage!’ he greeted the dying man. ‘You die a hero, your unworthy foe defeated and undone.’
The Shadow nodded slowly. ‘You honour me, Field Marshall. But what about Jericho? The Viceroy and I had an agreement...’
Terauchi nodded. ‘However much I despised him, Shiwan Khan was my commanding officer, and I’m thus bound by his word. I cannot let your man just walk away, but I give you my word that he will be fairly treated and exchanged back to the Americans at the first opportunity. Will this suffice?’
The Shadow nodded. ‘Yes. It will have to. Jericho, I think- w-we can trust the Field Marshall. Do as he says.’
‘Yes boss!’ the ebony giant said meekly.
‘Are you in much pain, Ying Ko?’ Terauchi asked.
The Shadow, shuddered slightly. ‘I would -not- turn down... a dose of morphine... ah... if you have one to spare...’
The Japanese shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. But I would be honoured if you allowed me to end your suffering by means of the sword of my ancestors. It cuts cleanly and precisely – a swift and honourable death for a warrior like you.’
‘Don’t touch the boss if you want to live!’ Jericho shouted.
The Shadow pondered only for an instant. ‘Jericho, help me sit. The Field Marshall is doing me a favour.’
‘But boss!’
‘No butts! My time has come. Go back to our lines, and keep up the fight, you hear me? Never give up! Never surrender, until the day our country is free and at peace again.’
‘I promise, boss!’ Jericho pledged with tears streaming down his cheeks as he placed the limp body in a sitting position. ‘You saved my life once – it is yours now, dead or alive!’
‘Goodbye then, Jericho- Live well, and tell Margo... tell Margo...’
‘I know boss. I know.’
‘Thank you! When you feel up to it, Field Marshall...’
Terauchi, standing behind the sitting crime-fighter drew his katana and lifted it, ready to strike the decapitating blow. ‘Good journey, Ying Ko.’
The blade flashed, golden reflexes dancing on its mirror-polished surface. The headless body toppled over, and Jericho Druke let out a wail of soul-rending grief.
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Great update!!! Siwan Khan is gone, which is good, since he was such an asshole. I will miss the Shadow though, but I guess it make sense to kill off some of the main characters at this point in the story.
Nobody is untouchable, it seems.
Perhaps he could have been saved by the Elixir, but Terauchi would have been putting himself and his men all at risk.
Perhaps he could have been saved by the Elixir, but Terauchi would have been putting himself and his men all at risk.
Great update again.
Nice show with that fight I really liked it.
I hope that Hannah. Buck and co. manage to get away.
Shocking that Master of Sinanju got hit by bullet.
Nice show with that fight I really liked it.
I hope that Hannah. Buck and co. manage to get away.
Shocking that Master of Sinanju got hit by bullet.
Terauchi is becoming more interesting character by the day, I have to admit that. People die on both sides, and the war continues. I wonder who´ll replace Siwan Khan.
The Yogi - He's back!!!! o o o
And with a marvelous closure to the Siwan Khan story, no less. And two more updates announced!! How do we mortals deserve such an unexpected blessing??
Superb writing!! I'm eagerly looking forward to the next one. Last time you wrote about Yonaguni, I spent half a saturday just reading through the wiki page and the diving websites who had infos about that mysterious place.
o o oAnd with a marvelous closure to the Siwan Khan story, no less. And two more updates announced!! How do we mortals deserve such an unexpected blessing??
Superb writing!! I'm eagerly looking forward to the next one. Last time you wrote about Yonaguni, I spent half a saturday just reading through the wiki page and the diving websites who had infos about that mysterious place.
Probably one of his other unfavored children, one of his noble connections, or some goon from the underworld. Probably not a Chinese general and definitely not a Japanese Officer. Is Terauchi in charge until Khan is replaced?
Hmmm, do you really think it would fit the crowd there? I mean, it’s not in any way plausible alternate history and in no way have butterflies been taken into account…
It felt SO GOOD finally offing the bastard!Goodbye, Shadow. You'll be sorely missed.
Shiwan Khan... Say 'hi' to Satan
Yeah, well, The Shadow is a very “noir” character, at home in foggy back streets in large cities seething with corruption and crime. He was getting increasingly out of place in an alternate WW2 raging across the Great Plains, India and the South China Sea. And besides, with Shiwan Khan AND Nag Po Lama out of the picture, he would seriously have unbalanced things in favour of the good guys.
Indeed, Terauchi might have respected The Shadow as a foe, but it doesn’t follow that he would have wanted to save him. To begin with, that would have meant capture, and that would lose him any respect earned. To die taking down his foe was very Bushido. To be taken captive, not so much. Also, he was a very dangerous foe to Pan-Asia, and his death a great success, and the one mitigation to the humiliation of losing the Viceroy.
Well, he caught a bullet to save Hannah. That was not so shocking, I think. Old Chiun always had a soft spot for the pretty ladies.
Indeed, he needs to be replaced not only as Viceroy, but as member of the decimated council of Seven, which has lost two members in a matter of an hour (Nag Po Lama was also had a seat), and more recently Dr No, presumed dead when his nuclear plant blew up.
Remaining now are Dondhu Pant, Prince Sandokan III, Ernst Stavros Blofeld and Sheik Al-Jabal. Three replacements are needed. Any nominations?
Thanks Leviathan07! Your wait shall be shortened because Friday is midsummer celebration in Sweden so I shall be away from work and from computers and internet dancing the little frog dance with my kids. I’ll try to imagine it’s an old pagan ritual dedicated to some distant relative to the Master of the Monolith! But the update therefore comes noonish tomorrow, rather than on Friday.The Yogi - He's back!!!!
And with a marvelous closure to the Siwan Khan story, no less. And two more updates announced!! How do we mortals deserve such an unexpected blessing??
Superb writing!! I'm eagerly looking forward to the next one. Last time you wrote about Yonaguni, I spent half a saturday just reading through the wiki page and the diving websites who had infos about that mysterious place.
Yep, as highest ranking officer, Terauchi is in charge until a replacement Viceroy can be appointed.
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They have an "alien space bats" - forum, which ist meant for fantasy and sience fichtion strories. I think, the community (which is quite big) would love your story.
An artificial cavern under the Yonaguni Formation
Off the coast of Yonaguni Island, Pan-Asian Empire
Thursday, September 20th 1940
Dr Henry “Indiana” Jones brought his electric torch to bear on the thin lines etched into the sheer stone wall, frowning as he tried to form a mental picture of the whole. Once there had been paint filling the outlines of pictures and glyphs, but in line with the general state of the chamber, it was long faded. Indy scratched the shape down in his notebook and moved on to the next wall.
The Inner Sanctum of The Citadel (the working name given by Dr Sun to the ruined underground fortress) was a devastated ruin. Whoever or whatever the attackers and defenders of the place had been, there was little doubt that the last stand had been fought in this cavernous, hexagonal hall. The cyclopean stone doors, once moved by advanced machinery, where shattered by forces almost beyond comprehension. The telltale pockmarks of the mighty weapons of the defenders dotted the walls, some wide and deep from heavy guns and some shallower, presumably from small arms - but if so, they had been small arms capable of sinking a Dreadnaught. Yet it had made no difference.
Strangely enough, not a single fossilised fragment of any living thing had been found in the Citadel. Not even in the Sanctum, where by all evidence a bitter last stand had taken place. Only remnants of machinery, rusted and decayed, had been found in the many ruined casemates and ramparts. A few such piles of debris had been found even in the Sanctum. That the attackers had taken their fallen with them after their capture of the fortress was one possibility – that they had suffered no casualties was another which the explorers preferred not to dwell upon. But what of the fallen defenders? Here the possible explanations for their absence ranged from the natural – that they might have lacked a bone skeleton - to the discomforting. Because there was no evidence of weapons as such from the attackers, the Citadel gave the impression of having been stormed by a host of supremely powerful and savage beasts or primitives. Had the defenders perhaps not been assaulted by an enemy host at all, but hunted and eaten?
A third possibility, which Indy held as increasingly likely was that there had been no occupants to begin with, and that the formidable but ultimately failed defence of The Citadel had been carried out solely by automatons of some sort. This was to Indy’s mind the only explanation which fitted with all the facts, like the complete absence of living quarters, sanitation systems or even storage areas. The Citadel had been all weapons, defences, killing grounds and the Sanctum itself, the only part of the whole structure which did not contribute directly or indirectly to the extermination of attackers. Power probably came from an atomic plant. In a deep pit in the passages hewn from the bedrock under the Citadel, Dr Sun had found what he and Indy guessed were the remnants of an atomic pile of some sort. Although clearly elevated above the ambient, the residual levels of radioactivity in the pit where however so low, that it could not have housed a pile of the type proposed by Hahn, Strassman and Meitner a few years prior. Uranium fuel, with a 4,5 billion year half-life, would have been virtually undecayed even after 50 million years. Still, some radioactive fuel with a much shorter half-life than Uranium could conceivably have been used.
So he had a Cyclopean fortress, Indy thought, bristling with automated weaponry to make the armies of humanity look like kids with sticks and stones, and powered by an atomic pile of its own, all in order to protect... what? That was what the archaeologist was trying to discover through painstaking scrutiny of the nearly faded pictures, pictograms and glyphs lining the walls of the Sanctum.
Steps tapping on the flagstones echoed oddly between the hexagonally arranged walls of the chamber. Nonetheless, Indy immediately recognised the steps of Dr Sun, Fu Manchu’s designated expedition leader.
‘Good morning!’ Indy saluted, touching the brim of his hat. ‘Found any working lightning guns yet?’
The Chinese shook his head. ‘Just debris, Dr Jones.’
‘I’m glad to hear it!’ Indy said.
Dr Sun smiled. ‘Well, strictly between you and me, Dr Jones, so am I. So, how is it going down here?’ he asked as he drew closer. He had taken off his steel-rimmed spectacles and was polishing them with a piece of cloth.
Indy found it was impossible to resent the likeable academic, even if he was working for Fu Manchu. For that matter, Indy thought, so was he.
‘Not much to report, Dr Sun. For the last few days I’ve been trying to discern, copy and interpret these wall carvings, to see if I can find anything to link this place with Fu Manchu’s cube.
‘And?’
‘I think we’re on the right track. See here.’ Indy flipped open his notebook to show Dr Sun the pictures and pictograms he had copied from the walls.
‘This place is all murderous functionality’, Sun mused. ‘And then all these carvings and embellishments. It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Actually, I believe they are a warning against tampering with what this place was built to protect.’
‘A warning?’ Sun frowned. ‘To whom?’
‘To whomever able to reach this place, I guess. See, these pictures seem to show an object that could well be our cube being placed in a stone coffer in the centre of this chamber. Notice that pile of broken stone slabs there? It could be the remains of it. I believe the cube was here, but was taken away after the fall of The Citadel. But notice these pictures here? I believe they represent the races inhabiting the Earth at the time – these are Octopoid ocean-dwellers, these others some beetle-like winged things, and those star-fish headed ones are known as Elder Things – I’ve seen them before. Notice how in each group, one is holding a cube and killing his own brethren.’
’‘But... what are those conical objects there? Machines of some sort?’ Sun asked in puzzlement.
‘I believe those are the builders of this place, the Great Race of Yith that Fu Manchu mentioned. I recognise them from carvings I saw in a primordial city in Antarctica a few years ago. They apparently fought wars against the Elder Things that inhabited it.’
‘Oh yes, you were part that ill-fated German expedition!’ Sun nodded enthusiastically. ‘I envy you – I’d die for a glimpse of the legendary city of the Elder Things.’
‘You would – die, I mean. There are things lingering there, thing’s you would not like to meet. The expedition did not perish in an avalanche, as the Ahnenerbe press release afterwards stated. But it did perish. Those few of us who survived did so by the most incredible piece of luck you could imagine.’
‘Lingering? You mean, there was something still alive there, after so many million years?’ Dr Sun asked with bulging eyes.
Indy nodded. ‘Yeah, so now you know why I’m not sleeping well down here. I keep having nightmares of what once came through that break in the wall of the Great Hall, and what might still live on the other side...’
‘It’s been 50 million years!’ Sun protested, but Indy just smiled ruefully at the objection.
‘So? I’m sure you’re familiar with this quote, Doctor; “That is not dead which can Eternal lie...”’
‘“...and with strange aeons, even death may die.”’ Sun nodded. ‘Indeed I am, Doctor Jones. But in this case, I think we do not need to worry. I’ve sent some of the Si-Fan to examine the other side, and they claim there’s nothing there. That is in fact why I’ve come to disturb you in your work. They have found some tracks... I fossilized tracks, I hasten to add’, Sun said at seeing Indy’s alarmed expression. ‘I’d like you to have a look at them, see what you can make of them.’
Indy nodded. ‘Sure. If I’m right, that’s where we have to start searching for the cube anyway.’
Beyond the huge break in the wall, Indy, Dr Sun and two of the Si-Fan acolytes entered a shadowy world of prehistoric terror. They passed first through a short passage which was clearly tunnelled rather than natural. About three metres in height, it had the smooth walls typical of fire-set mines, rather than the more uneven ones produced by modern explosives. The same cold draught Indy had noticed on his way down through the trapdoor leading to the Citadel Hall howled through the passage, carrying the numbing cold from the roots of the earth.
Beyond the tunnel was the first of a series of vast artificial caverns, all submerged in the deepest black darkness which the powerful electric torches carried by the party could only fractionally dispel. Whether they were artificial or natural in origin was thus impossible to guess, but that they had been substantially enlarged was outside the realm of doubt, since inside, dozens of gargantuan windowless towers had been cut or ground to from the living basalt rock. They had entrances at the ground level though, great yawning black mouths which exhaled an unpleasant if faint miasma. Indy felt like nothing in this world could have persuaded him to pass through one of them.
‘Dr Sun, your men... have they explored any of these towers?’ he asked, which caused the Chinese to repeat the question in Mandarin to one of the acolytes.
Looking uncomfortable, he negated with a minute shaking of the head. Well, that was something to take into account, Indy thought grimly. Now it felt as if monstrous eyes followed his every move from those yawning dark mouths.
‘Here it is!’ Sun said finally, as his torch illuminated a small group of acolytes, all in traditional Chinese clothing.
‘Where is Shen?’ Dr Sun asked the acolytes, noticing the absence of one.
‘He went to look for the cascade, or at least that’s what we think it is. You hear the sound of it, Doctor?’
There was indeed a low rumbling noise in the background of so low a frequency that neither Indy nor Sun had noticed it consciously.
‘Very good, it would make things much easier if we happened upon a source of fresh water!’ Sun said. ‘But to the matter at hand; what do you make of this Dr Jones?’
The Si-Fan had arranged their lights so as to illuminate a spot on the rocky ground. There, Indy noticed as he knelt beside the illuminated spot, imprinted in the uneven sandstone ground was a set of marks looking almost like a foot with five circular toes around it – except that the print was half as long as Indy, and from the depth and size of it would have belonged to a giant. The main part of the print was however clearly not from any human foot, but rather had an uneven, if generally oblong shape with undefined borders, as if made by something of flabby consistence. The “toe marks”, in contrast were circular, and only in the form of a depressed rim. Whatever had made them was formed in the end touching the ground like a tube.
‘Hmmm... I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Indy said, pondering the strange mark. ‘It’s not really a footprint... although it does look a bit like one. I actually think this is a resting print, the central impression from the body and the circles from supporting appendages. Notice also how there are no prints going to or leaving from this one. Did the creature fly here, and then leave by the same means?’
‘And the age?’ Dr Sun asked.
‘Impossible to tell’, Indy shrugged. ‘But this rock is abnormal – sandstone is normally formed as a layer of sand is pressed by above layers of sediment and is cemented by binding materials filtering in between the grains. Here, there is obviously no top layer, so I’d have to assume the rock has been formed by filtering alone. That should make the process take longer, but I’m no geologist. I’d guess – wildly – no less than several hundred thousand years.’
Sun nodded. ‘Well, we know from the buildings we’ve found that this area was inhabited once, probably by those who destroyed The Citadel. If the Yonaguni settlement was abandoned as the Great Race died out 50 million years ago it would make perfect sense to have these other beings lingering for some time afterwards.’
‘But for how long a time?’ Indy asked, feeling queasy at the thought of the amorphous, extremely powerful creatures that had once inhabited the caverns, and their oddly repulsive towers.
In the dramatic silence that followed, a distant scream, shrill and desperate echoed through the caverns.
‘Shen!’ Sun said, and immediately the group moved off, brandishing their flashlights and shouting the lost man’s name.
If not for Shen’s electric torch, they could have searched for ever through that primeval abyss. They found it laying on the wet ground and growing faint as its batteries gradually discharged, next to the waterfall Shen had been sent to find. Not far from there, they found a huge spattering of blood, and some fragments of bloody tissue. But what frightened the group the most was what was revealed as Shen’s torch was lifted from the muddy ground.
Partially obscured by the mark left by the torch, there was impression in the mud. It had a large amorphous central portion surrounded by five circular “toe” marks, just like the million year old fossilized print.
The discovery was greeted by a strange, whistling sound piping hideously from out of the compact darkness outside the light of the torches.
Off the coast of Yonaguni Island, Pan-Asian Empire
Thursday, September 20th 1940
Dr Henry “Indiana” Jones brought his electric torch to bear on the thin lines etched into the sheer stone wall, frowning as he tried to form a mental picture of the whole. Once there had been paint filling the outlines of pictures and glyphs, but in line with the general state of the chamber, it was long faded. Indy scratched the shape down in his notebook and moved on to the next wall.
The Inner Sanctum of The Citadel (the working name given by Dr Sun to the ruined underground fortress) was a devastated ruin. Whoever or whatever the attackers and defenders of the place had been, there was little doubt that the last stand had been fought in this cavernous, hexagonal hall. The cyclopean stone doors, once moved by advanced machinery, where shattered by forces almost beyond comprehension. The telltale pockmarks of the mighty weapons of the defenders dotted the walls, some wide and deep from heavy guns and some shallower, presumably from small arms - but if so, they had been small arms capable of sinking a Dreadnaught. Yet it had made no difference.
Strangely enough, not a single fossilised fragment of any living thing had been found in the Citadel. Not even in the Sanctum, where by all evidence a bitter last stand had taken place. Only remnants of machinery, rusted and decayed, had been found in the many ruined casemates and ramparts. A few such piles of debris had been found even in the Sanctum. That the attackers had taken their fallen with them after their capture of the fortress was one possibility – that they had suffered no casualties was another which the explorers preferred not to dwell upon. But what of the fallen defenders? Here the possible explanations for their absence ranged from the natural – that they might have lacked a bone skeleton - to the discomforting. Because there was no evidence of weapons as such from the attackers, the Citadel gave the impression of having been stormed by a host of supremely powerful and savage beasts or primitives. Had the defenders perhaps not been assaulted by an enemy host at all, but hunted and eaten?
A third possibility, which Indy held as increasingly likely was that there had been no occupants to begin with, and that the formidable but ultimately failed defence of The Citadel had been carried out solely by automatons of some sort. This was to Indy’s mind the only explanation which fitted with all the facts, like the complete absence of living quarters, sanitation systems or even storage areas. The Citadel had been all weapons, defences, killing grounds and the Sanctum itself, the only part of the whole structure which did not contribute directly or indirectly to the extermination of attackers. Power probably came from an atomic plant. In a deep pit in the passages hewn from the bedrock under the Citadel, Dr Sun had found what he and Indy guessed were the remnants of an atomic pile of some sort. Although clearly elevated above the ambient, the residual levels of radioactivity in the pit where however so low, that it could not have housed a pile of the type proposed by Hahn, Strassman and Meitner a few years prior. Uranium fuel, with a 4,5 billion year half-life, would have been virtually undecayed even after 50 million years. Still, some radioactive fuel with a much shorter half-life than Uranium could conceivably have been used.
So he had a Cyclopean fortress, Indy thought, bristling with automated weaponry to make the armies of humanity look like kids with sticks and stones, and powered by an atomic pile of its own, all in order to protect... what? That was what the archaeologist was trying to discover through painstaking scrutiny of the nearly faded pictures, pictograms and glyphs lining the walls of the Sanctum.
Steps tapping on the flagstones echoed oddly between the hexagonally arranged walls of the chamber. Nonetheless, Indy immediately recognised the steps of Dr Sun, Fu Manchu’s designated expedition leader.
‘Good morning!’ Indy saluted, touching the brim of his hat. ‘Found any working lightning guns yet?’
The Chinese shook his head. ‘Just debris, Dr Jones.’
‘I’m glad to hear it!’ Indy said.
Dr Sun smiled. ‘Well, strictly between you and me, Dr Jones, so am I. So, how is it going down here?’ he asked as he drew closer. He had taken off his steel-rimmed spectacles and was polishing them with a piece of cloth.
Indy found it was impossible to resent the likeable academic, even if he was working for Fu Manchu. For that matter, Indy thought, so was he.
‘Not much to report, Dr Sun. For the last few days I’ve been trying to discern, copy and interpret these wall carvings, to see if I can find anything to link this place with Fu Manchu’s cube.
‘And?’
‘I think we’re on the right track. See here.’ Indy flipped open his notebook to show Dr Sun the pictures and pictograms he had copied from the walls.
‘This place is all murderous functionality’, Sun mused. ‘And then all these carvings and embellishments. It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Actually, I believe they are a warning against tampering with what this place was built to protect.’
‘A warning?’ Sun frowned. ‘To whom?’
‘To whomever able to reach this place, I guess. See, these pictures seem to show an object that could well be our cube being placed in a stone coffer in the centre of this chamber. Notice that pile of broken stone slabs there? It could be the remains of it. I believe the cube was here, but was taken away after the fall of The Citadel. But notice these pictures here? I believe they represent the races inhabiting the Earth at the time – these are Octopoid ocean-dwellers, these others some beetle-like winged things, and those star-fish headed ones are known as Elder Things – I’ve seen them before. Notice how in each group, one is holding a cube and killing his own brethren.’
’‘But... what are those conical objects there? Machines of some sort?’ Sun asked in puzzlement.
‘I believe those are the builders of this place, the Great Race of Yith that Fu Manchu mentioned. I recognise them from carvings I saw in a primordial city in Antarctica a few years ago. They apparently fought wars against the Elder Things that inhabited it.’
‘Oh yes, you were part that ill-fated German expedition!’ Sun nodded enthusiastically. ‘I envy you – I’d die for a glimpse of the legendary city of the Elder Things.’
‘You would – die, I mean. There are things lingering there, thing’s you would not like to meet. The expedition did not perish in an avalanche, as the Ahnenerbe press release afterwards stated. But it did perish. Those few of us who survived did so by the most incredible piece of luck you could imagine.’
‘Lingering? You mean, there was something still alive there, after so many million years?’ Dr Sun asked with bulging eyes.
Indy nodded. ‘Yeah, so now you know why I’m not sleeping well down here. I keep having nightmares of what once came through that break in the wall of the Great Hall, and what might still live on the other side...’
‘It’s been 50 million years!’ Sun protested, but Indy just smiled ruefully at the objection.
‘So? I’m sure you’re familiar with this quote, Doctor; “That is not dead which can Eternal lie...”’
‘“...and with strange aeons, even death may die.”’ Sun nodded. ‘Indeed I am, Doctor Jones. But in this case, I think we do not need to worry. I’ve sent some of the Si-Fan to examine the other side, and they claim there’s nothing there. That is in fact why I’ve come to disturb you in your work. They have found some tracks... I fossilized tracks, I hasten to add’, Sun said at seeing Indy’s alarmed expression. ‘I’d like you to have a look at them, see what you can make of them.’
Indy nodded. ‘Sure. If I’m right, that’s where we have to start searching for the cube anyway.’
****
Beyond the huge break in the wall, Indy, Dr Sun and two of the Si-Fan acolytes entered a shadowy world of prehistoric terror. They passed first through a short passage which was clearly tunnelled rather than natural. About three metres in height, it had the smooth walls typical of fire-set mines, rather than the more uneven ones produced by modern explosives. The same cold draught Indy had noticed on his way down through the trapdoor leading to the Citadel Hall howled through the passage, carrying the numbing cold from the roots of the earth.
Beyond the tunnel was the first of a series of vast artificial caverns, all submerged in the deepest black darkness which the powerful electric torches carried by the party could only fractionally dispel. Whether they were artificial or natural in origin was thus impossible to guess, but that they had been substantially enlarged was outside the realm of doubt, since inside, dozens of gargantuan windowless towers had been cut or ground to from the living basalt rock. They had entrances at the ground level though, great yawning black mouths which exhaled an unpleasant if faint miasma. Indy felt like nothing in this world could have persuaded him to pass through one of them.
‘Dr Sun, your men... have they explored any of these towers?’ he asked, which caused the Chinese to repeat the question in Mandarin to one of the acolytes.
Looking uncomfortable, he negated with a minute shaking of the head. Well, that was something to take into account, Indy thought grimly. Now it felt as if monstrous eyes followed his every move from those yawning dark mouths.
‘Here it is!’ Sun said finally, as his torch illuminated a small group of acolytes, all in traditional Chinese clothing.
‘Where is Shen?’ Dr Sun asked the acolytes, noticing the absence of one.
‘He went to look for the cascade, or at least that’s what we think it is. You hear the sound of it, Doctor?’
There was indeed a low rumbling noise in the background of so low a frequency that neither Indy nor Sun had noticed it consciously.
‘Very good, it would make things much easier if we happened upon a source of fresh water!’ Sun said. ‘But to the matter at hand; what do you make of this Dr Jones?’
The Si-Fan had arranged their lights so as to illuminate a spot on the rocky ground. There, Indy noticed as he knelt beside the illuminated spot, imprinted in the uneven sandstone ground was a set of marks looking almost like a foot with five circular toes around it – except that the print was half as long as Indy, and from the depth and size of it would have belonged to a giant. The main part of the print was however clearly not from any human foot, but rather had an uneven, if generally oblong shape with undefined borders, as if made by something of flabby consistence. The “toe marks”, in contrast were circular, and only in the form of a depressed rim. Whatever had made them was formed in the end touching the ground like a tube.
‘Hmmm... I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Indy said, pondering the strange mark. ‘It’s not really a footprint... although it does look a bit like one. I actually think this is a resting print, the central impression from the body and the circles from supporting appendages. Notice also how there are no prints going to or leaving from this one. Did the creature fly here, and then leave by the same means?’
‘And the age?’ Dr Sun asked.
‘Impossible to tell’, Indy shrugged. ‘But this rock is abnormal – sandstone is normally formed as a layer of sand is pressed by above layers of sediment and is cemented by binding materials filtering in between the grains. Here, there is obviously no top layer, so I’d have to assume the rock has been formed by filtering alone. That should make the process take longer, but I’m no geologist. I’d guess – wildly – no less than several hundred thousand years.’
Sun nodded. ‘Well, we know from the buildings we’ve found that this area was inhabited once, probably by those who destroyed The Citadel. If the Yonaguni settlement was abandoned as the Great Race died out 50 million years ago it would make perfect sense to have these other beings lingering for some time afterwards.’
‘But for how long a time?’ Indy asked, feeling queasy at the thought of the amorphous, extremely powerful creatures that had once inhabited the caverns, and their oddly repulsive towers.
In the dramatic silence that followed, a distant scream, shrill and desperate echoed through the caverns.
‘Shen!’ Sun said, and immediately the group moved off, brandishing their flashlights and shouting the lost man’s name.
If not for Shen’s electric torch, they could have searched for ever through that primeval abyss. They found it laying on the wet ground and growing faint as its batteries gradually discharged, next to the waterfall Shen had been sent to find. Not far from there, they found a huge spattering of blood, and some fragments of bloody tissue. But what frightened the group the most was what was revealed as Shen’s torch was lifted from the muddy ground.
Partially obscured by the mark left by the torch, there was impression in the mud. It had a large amorphous central portion surrounded by five circular “toe” marks, just like the million year old fossilized print.
The discovery was greeted by a strange, whistling sound piping hideously from out of the compact darkness outside the light of the torches.
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Yes, bring Fu Manchu to AH.com. Would probably fit on the ASB (Alien Spacebats) board or in the Writer's Forum.