James Axler - Atlantis Reprise

Philo stayed silent, although he felt slighted. What other explanation could there be other than that the approaching strangers were Crawlers? Those who had returned on the previous day had spoken of those they encountered as being strong fighters, but not garbed as was the norm for Crawlers. Perhaps this was a change in tactics by the men of Atlantis to counter the measures shown by Memphis. After all, who else could it be in these woodlands?

The sec party stayed silent, letting the strangers come to them. There was a low undertone of voices and the sounds of their progress were clearly audible. These Crawlers—if indeed they were—made no attempt to conceal themselves.

Mark showed himself to the others long enough to mutely direct his men into position for an ambush. He had determined the direction of the approaching party and wanted to make sure they were surrounded. Crawlers were tricky, slippery fighters. His men were probably outnumbered from the sound of it, and there was every chance that they would be outfought. But he was a great believer in the element of surprise.

He had little idea that in this instance it would be himself on the receiving end of such a shock.

As the four sec men adopted their new positions, and readied themselves for attack, Philo tried to calm himself by concentrating on picking out the words spoken by the approaching party. His guts were churning with fear and he supposed that to try to decipher their conversation would act as a distraction from his fear.

They were far enough away for the talk to be little more than a low buzz, but within a few seconds he had adjusted to the volume and could pick out a few words.

‘…the methods of destruction, and the tactics involved, are sometimes schematic of an intelligence that is little more than misguided.’

‘Doc, you talk such crap sometimes. The only thing you can ever think about is survival. That’s the triple red priority.’

The first voice was rich and full. Male. Whereas the answering voice, although throaty and deep, was most definitely female.

The first man continued. ‘My dear Dr. Wyeth, one must always consider beyond the knee-jerk reaction. It is the ability to think rationally and translate this into tactics that actually wins wars. Staying alive is one thing—’

‘Can’t win wars if buy farm,’ a third voice, low and almost monotone, interjected.

‘Exactly my point. I’m not saying that tactics are wrong—hell, if Ryan didn’t give us some, then we’d long since have been chilled—but the numero uno priority is to keep moving and keep breathing.’

‘I appreciate your willingness to enter into debate so freely,’ a fourth voice added, ‘but if you are to be moving on, I fail to see how it can be of any practical consideration.’

‘A little learning never hurt anyone,’ the woman’s voice countered.

But the fourth voice, the mellifluous tone and the use of language… It couldn’t be—he had been taken by the Crawlers the day before and was considered lost. It was Affinity, of that Philo had little doubt. The two men were friends, and the young man had been fired up by the apparent demise of his compatriot.

So these were the people the sec patrol had fought yesterday. And they hadn’t chilled or taken Affinity. In fact, he seemed on friendly terms with them, and they were headed back toward Memphis.

This was most strange. Philo had no idea what it might mean, but he was sure that they should refrain from attack. He knew that Mark wouldn’t have bothered trying to hear what was being said. The sec chief would be too busy psyching himself for combat. It was probable that only Philo was aware of what had been said between the approaching strangers.

He knew that he had to inform Mark straightaway and stop an attack that could be disastrous—unnecessarily so—for the sec party. The young man broke cover to seek out his chief.

Mark stepped from his own cover, grabbing the young man by the arm and pulling him into the shadow.

‘What in the name of Minos do you think you’re doing, you idiot?’ he asked quietly. His tone, however, was anything but soft.

Rapidly, Philo gabbled everything he had heard, knowing that time was of the essence. When he had finished, Mark nodded briefly.

‘You did right,’ he affirmed. ‘I’ll halt the attack and we’ll reveal ourselves.’

Philo allowed a smile of relief. It died on his lips on the silence following Mark’s words. For silence was all there was. The advancing party had fallen quiet, as though aware of the ambush in wait for them.

RYAN HELD UP his hand to halt the party, but he needn’t have bothered. The exchange of views dried to silence as an awareness that they were no longer alone swept through them—all except Affinity, whose puzzled expression was met with a gesture from Doc and an inclination of the head to the paths ahead.

Although seemingly relaxed, the companions had been acutely aware of their surroundings. They had tuned in to the silence around them, and although apparently paying no heed to the environment, had easily caught wind of the change. Ahead of them the foliage had moved in a manner that bespoke of more than the wind, and the rustling was underscored by something that could only be muffled and quieted human speech.

Ryan looked questioningly at Jak. The albino youth held up three, then four fingers with a slight shrug, indicating he couldn’t be more exact about numbers. He then indicated the spread of the sounds.

Ryan nodded and gestured to J.B. and Jak to fan out and come around the source of the noise in a pincer movement. He further indicated that the remaining five move forward in a staggered line through the trees, with weapons to hand. For stealth, and because of the close yet shielded proximity, he further indicated that blades would be of more use than blasters.

Jak tossed a couple of leaf-bladed knives to Krysty and Mildred before he and J.B. headed off in separate directions, disappearing silently into the undergrowth.

The others began to move forward, now watching every step, keeping sound to a minimum. Affinity wondered at their ability, realizing that they were a match for any team of Nightcrawlers…and hoping that the opposition wasn’t his own people’s sec, if only for their sakes.

MARK GESTURED to Philo to move back into position, wincing at the relative noise the young man made as he went into cover. Mark knew that all his men were willing, but the fact was that they simply weren’t of a comparable quality to their opposition. For all of the talk of Memphis mounting a raid on Atlantis to topple the ruling regime, he knew in his heart that talk was all it would remain, at least for a few years to come.

He slipped farther into shadows, then moved toward the source of the noise before it had ceased. In the time before he had run from the old ville, he had pretended; he had played the games and acted as though he’d wanted to become a Crawler, to become one of the elite. In truth, he was filled with loathing for them and the way in which they treated the people for whom they were supposed to be the sec force. But he knew that if he could learn a few of their tricks, then it would aid his escape.

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