Strange Tales #40

Starring:

Fu Manchu	Dracula	Yellow Claw

Fu Manchu was moving feverishly among his beakers and burners and test tubes. The living Martian specimen that Dracula, John Bull, and Godalming had acquired had provided him with a number of tissue samples that he was frantically checking. The news that had been brought back along with the Martian was that time was quickly running out.

Now that the Yellow Claw and Edward Raven had finished making all of the preparations for the skyfleet, the Claw now joined Fu Manchu in the experiments to develop a plague that would be effective against the Martians but harmless to humans.

John Bull and Godalming were resting on some Oriental pillow-furniture. They had still not recovered from all of their hard work in capturing the Martian.

"Bloody hell," John Bull complained. "My back is killing me!"

"Better your back than those blasted Martians," Godalming replied weakly. Beside him stood a large pitcher of water that he had almost drained already. He offered a glass to John Bull.

Raven was caught up in his thoughts as he drew out battle plans on a chalkboard. He had carefully assessed the strength of the Yellow Claw’s sky fleet and was comparing that to his estimates of the size of the Martian forces. He brushed an attack formation away almost as quickly as he drew it. He knew the plan had to be perfect. This was not going to be a drawn-out battle.

Dracula hovered over the workings of the two Oriental masterminds. He was intrigued by the bustling activity of the scientific geniuses. He thought about the possibility of making one of them a proposition. Perhaps one of them with his arcane science could allow Dracula to overcome some of the limitations that vampiric existences imposed upon him. If he could gain the ability to walking in the day, the world would soon fall to him.

As Dracula was scheming, Fu Manchu was doing the same. While the majority of his mental faculties were focused on the problem at hand, a portion of his mind was working on his own agenda. Foremost among these personal items was his own continued existence. He had heard of the work of the German scientist Deacon Frost and his attempts at formulating a serum of immortality from vampire blood. Perhaps the blood of the undead could be used for Fu Manchu’s own purposes.

With a small knife in hand that he had previously used on a Martian tissue sample, Fu Manchu turned away from the table seemed to accidentally bump into Dracula. The silver knife cut through Dracula’s skin and came back out with some drops of blood.

"My humblest apologies," Fu Manchu said deceitfully.

"What have you done," Dracula was enraged. He grabbed Fu Manchu by the wrist. "What is the meaning of this?"

John Bull and Godalming leapt out of their seats. Raven turned away from his battle plans at the sound of the altercation. The Yellow Claw stopped in the middle of mixing two beakers to assess the situation.

"A simple accident, I assure you," Fu Manchu replied. He pointed to the wound that he had inflicted. "It is but the merest scratch. Your undead powers should begin to heal you already.

Dracula brought Fu Manchu’s hand, which still held the silver knife, closer to his own eyes. "You have taken the blood of Dracula." He stared into Fu Manchu’s eyes, but the Phantom of Fear’s own powers were too great to ever fall under Dracula’s hypnotic spell. "You are too conscientious to have allowed such an ‘accident’ to occur. You wanted Dracula’s blood. Why?" He squeezed harder with his undead strength.

"I had hoped to use some of the agents in your blood to empower the concoction!"

"Base liar!" Dracula threw Fu Manchu’s hand down. The silver knife fell to the floor, making a metallic ringing sound as it bounced. "You hoped to use my blood for own gain." He turned away from Fu Manchu, took a few steps, and then made a dramatic turn. "Today we are enemies, but a tomorrow will come in which we are not. From that day onward, let there undying enmity between Dracula and Fu Manchu!"

Raven came in between Dracula and Fu Manchu now. "Gentlemen, can we concentrate on the matter at hand, namely the Martians?" He shot a look over at the caged alien. He found it surprising that such a bestial creature could have developed such an advanced civilization.

"What do we do now?" John Bull asked.

"We wait. That is all we can do until Fu Manchu and the Claw create an adequate biological weapon," Raven replied coldly.

"But there are people dying out there," Godalming objected. He could not stand the thought that brave Britons might be dying while they puttered about.

"This is war," Raven answered. "There will be casualties. I need you here to lead the attack once we have the weapon." He motioned towards the chalkboard. "Come, let me show you my latest battle plan."

The night slipped into day. Fu Manchu and the Yellow Claw had worked through the night but they still had not developed a plague to which the Martians would be susceptible. The Claw admitted, albeit silently, that Fu Manchu had made tremendous progress before they had even acquired the Martian tissue samples. The Claw knew that he himself would have been hard pressed to produce similar results in such a short amount of time.

However, time was running out. The bacteria would have to be ready by nightfall or London was lost. And if London fell, the whole British Isle would crumble.

Dracula had retired to a pitch-black corner of the lair. He wanted to stay as far from the burning rays of the sun as he could. He would have preferred to have slept in a coffin with dirt from his beloved Transylvania. In that way, he could have recovered his strength. Just sleeping through the day would not be the most effective rest.

The three members of the Royal Society caught a few moments of sleep. Raven would wake them up every so often with talk of new modifications to the battle plans. While his associates were unhappy with each successive waking, they had to admit that the plan was becoming more effective with every change that Raven implemented. All they needed now was the weapon.

At about two o’clock in the afternoon, Fu Manchu and the Yellow Claw looked at each other and announced. "We have it!" The Royal Society members rushed over to the laboratory table to see the discovery. Each of the Oriental masterminds held a beaker full of a black liquid.

"That’s it?" John Bull asked.

"This will be the Black Death for the Martians," the Yellow Claw announced proudly. He put the beaker to his lips and drank the contents. "I stake my own life on its harmlessness to humanity."

Godalming was astonished at the Claw’s actions. "Are you daft, man?

"No, only confident," the Claw replied. "Now if my … esteemed associate would administer the mixture to our subject?"

Fu Manchu walked over to the cage and poured the beaker on the captive Martian. The alien immediately went into spasms. Its tentacles flailed wildly and a greenish liquid dribbled from its mouth. After a few seconds of this spastic behavior, its body tensed up and then collapsed.

"Hurrah!" John Bull shouted. "It works!"

"Yes," Fu Manchu said calmly. "However, there are two items that must be noted. First, that was a highly concentrated mixture of the bacteria. Because of time constraints, the dosages in the bombs will be much lower and those in the helium will be lower still. We are confident that the exposure will prove fatal, but the result will take much longer to be realized."

"The second item," the Yellow Claw continued, "is, although the bacteria is seemingly harmless to humans, we do not know what side-effects they might cause or what other life-forms native to our world might be affected."

"As long as it kills the Martians, it’s bloody good in my book!" Godalming exclaimed.

"Right then," Raven announced. "Let’s get things together. Claw, please summon your minions. We need to have all of the pilots of our skyfleet knowledgeable in the plan of attack. Once Dracula rises at dusk, we attack!"

As dusk approached, Fu Manchu and the Yellow Claw were busy manufacturing more of the bacterium at an accelerated pace. Raven was astonished at how much of they could grow so quickly. He hoped that they would not be able to manufacture such deadly weapons that might be used against the rest of mankind. As fast as the bacterium was grown, it was loaded into the bomb casings and into the balloon sections of the airships.

In the bombs, the Claw’s minions loaded a sugar solution. This would allow the bacteria to continue to multiply until the bombs were actually delivered to the target. John Bull and Godalming had proven to be quick studies at learning how to operate the Claw’s skyships. They would be leading the two wings of the skyfleet.

Once the sun set and Dracula rose, the Lord of the Undead was apprised of the developments during his rest. Dracula assented to harnessing his powers to give the skyships good winds in which to operate. Raven, the Yellow Claw, and Fu Manchu would observe the battle in a skyship floating some distance from the scene. They would direct a reserve force of skyships into the battle if it proved necessary.

The massive skyfleet lifted into the air and, spurred on by the winds summoned by Dracula, sped towards the Martian encampment. They could only hope that the final push towards the British capital had not taken place already. After a few nerve-wracking minutes of flight, the city came into view. The Martians were still outside of the city, but it was evident that they were almost prepared to undertake the offensive.

John Bull led his wing to the east of the Martians, and Godalming led his wing to the west. As they came closer to the Martians, they dropped ballast and the airships rose even higher into the air. They had stayed close to the ground initially to gain the benefit of the Dracula-spawned winds. Now they wanted to be as far as possible from the Martians’ dreaded heat rays.

The Martians were seemingly oblivious to the large aerial force that moved towards them. The Tripods were forming into small groups of three and then into larger groups of nine as they made the final preparations for the assault.

In his airship. John Bull checked the device that the Claw had called an "altimeter". The fleet had reached the designated altitude. He vented some helium to stabilize his vertical position. The ships in his wing followed his lead and leveled off. Now they arranged themselves into the pattern that Raven had devised.

To the west of the Martian location, Godalming was undertaking the same actions with his wing. He slipped his hand into his vest and pulled out his pocketwatch. In two minutes, his wing would begin its run. Thirty seconds after that, John Bull’s wing would do the same.

When the two minutes had passed, Godalming pushed a lever forward. This activated the electric motor that powered the propeller at the rear of the skyship. He kept a close eye on his watch. Once another twenty seconds had passed, he pushed another lever. This released the first of his bacteria-laden bombs. The other ships in his wing had followed his course and were now releasing the first parts of their payloads. As his wing finished its run, he could see John Bull’s wing passing underneath him. That wing was now dropping its bombs onto the Martians.

By the time the bombs reached the ground, all of the skyships were about a hundred yards from the center of the Martian formation. When the bombs struck the earth, they exploded in a black cloud that enveloped the Martian vehicles. Watching from their vantage point through the Claw’s telescope, Raven looked for signs of activity from the Martians. The black smoke was obscuring everything, but he could make out that some of the Tripods were moving out of the ever-expanding cloud.

"It didn’t kill them straight off," Raven announced.

"We did not make any such claim," Fu Manchu responded. "Give the bacteria time."

The Tripods that had emerged from the cloud spotted the airships and the Martians inside recognized them to be the source of the bombing. Bringing their heat-ray projectors to bear, they laced the sky with scarlet beams of death.

Following the lead of their group commanders, the two wings of the skyfleet began their second run. Both John Bull and Godalming wanted to begin evasive maneuvers but they both desisted. For one thing, they needed to deliver their payloads. For another, they knew that they could not outrace the Martians’ rays if they had been successively targeted. It would been as easy to outrun a beam of sunlight. So they led their wings into the breach. The mesmerized minions of the Claw had no such thoughts of self-preservation. Their will had been completely sapped by the Oriental menace. They would follow their orders implicitly.

The wings completed their second pass and another series of sooty explosions marked the battlefield. Raven noted excitedly that some of the Tripods were beginning to move sluggishly.

"I think the bacteria is beginning to take effect!"

Fu Manchu and the Claw exchanged a look of pride. It was a rare thing indeed for both of them to share satisfaction in a event, what with their long rivalry and successes gained at the expense of the other.

The second pass had not been without losses. The Martians scored a number of hits with their heat-rays. When one of beams struck an airship, its helium ignited and the craft burst into a black flame. The aerial commanders did their best to lead their respective wings for a third sortie. By this time, the heat-ray bombardment had reached its peak but it was declining steadily. More than a few of the Tripods were tumbling over, their operators obviously incapacitated or killed by the bacteria.

The third wave of bombs was delivered and the airships now rose again into the sky to assess the situation. The ascent was marked by more heat-ray firings. Another dozen airships were destroyed, but still slightly over half of the fleet remained. On the ground, only a few of the Tripods were still standing.

John Bull looked down with happiness in his heart. "Strewth! I think we’ve done it."

From his vantage point, Godalming could see that the Martians were almost completely decimated. However, he noted that a few of the remaining vehicles were now beginning to march on the city. It was a suicide attack, but Godalming had to stop them.

Venting his helium, Godalming quickly descended. He dropped his remaining bombs as close as he could to the Tripods but still they marched on. He unbuckled his harness and unlatched the cockpit door. He was not going to let the Martians enter the city. He manipulated the controls to put himself on a collision course with the lead vehicle.

"They’re dead anyway!" John Bull screamed but there was no way for Godalming to hear him.

"I won’t let you into London!" Godalming shouted. If the bombs would not kill them quick enough, he would deliver the bacteria in his balloon right into their mouths. At about sixty feet above the ground, Godalming was convinced that he was on target. He jumped out of the airship and plummeted to the ground.

The airship collided with the Tripod and exploded into a black fog. The vehicle immediately stopped, teetered and then fell backwards. It crashed into the Tripod behind it and a domino effect was created. The affected operators of the other Tripods were either unable or incapable of avoided the wave of falling Martian metal. After a few seconds, all of the Martian vehicles were lying helpless on the ground.

John Bull brought his airship down the ground. Once he had landed, he leapt out of the cockpit, not worrying for even a moment about tethering the vehicle. As he rushed among the mess of mangled metal, his airship drifted back up into the air. He scoured the area for Godalming, but he could not find the young lord. Had the fellow been killed from the fall, or had a Tripod fallen upon him?

Amidst the wisps of black smoke, John Bull saw something peculiar. It was another cloud of mist, but this one was tinged with red. He rushed towards it, and as he did so, he saw it transform into the shape of Dracula. The Undead Lord lowered his himself down to the ground for a few seconds and then stood once again.

"What are you doing, man" John Bull called out. When he reached Dracula’s side, he saw what ghastly business in which the revenant had been engaged.

"Now that this unpleasant business is finished," Dracula said as he wiped blood from his lips. "I decided to celebrate with a feast."

At Dracula’s feet lay the battered body of Lord Godalming. He had survived the fall, albeit with broken legs and multiple fractures all over his body. His head lay limply on its side. His exposed neck showed the unmistakable mark of a vampire bite.

John Bull knelt down before Godalming and then with rage looked back up at Dracula.

Dracula returned the intense stare. "He would have died from the injuries anyway. If I did anything, I granted him a boon. Let it not be said that Dracula is not generous."

John Bull was furious at the desecration of his comrade. He shook his fist. "You're a monster, especially to do this to any ally. I'll hunt you down Dracula, if it’s the last thing I do!"

"John," Godalming gasped.

John Bull took his eyes away from Dracula, astonished to hear that his comrade was still alive. Dracula took the opportunity to transform into a bat and fly away from the scene. He craved more blood, and he figured that it would be easy to obtain in the chaos that London would undoubtedly be.

"Arthur, Arthur, you bloody doubly foolish fool." He cradled Arthur’s head in his arms.

Despite the intense pain that he was in, Godalming recognized the name with which John Bull had called him. Only one of his peers had consistently called him that during their schooldays at Eton. "Alistair?"

Tears were running down John Bull’s face. He ripped away the putty that obscured his true features. "Yes, Arthur, it is I, Alistair, Lord Falsworth."

Godalming reached up and grabbed John Bull’s wrist. "Take my sword from my vest, and drive it through my heart. Then take my head. I don't want to come back as a monstrosity."

"Arthur?"

"Dracula has infected me with his undead ichor," Godalming wheezed. "I am dying, but I will rise in three nights. Don’t let me, Alistair." His head fell from John Bull’s arms and his mouth hung up.

The tears were streaming down John Bull’s face. He reached into Godalming’s vest and withdrew the sword. He whispered a silent prayer and then drove it through his friend’s heart. He took a deep breath and then decapitated Godalming.

The War of the Worlds was over. The city limits of London were strewn with a maze of fallen Martian war machines. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of English lives had been lost, but the thoughts of Alistair Lord Falsworth were only for the memory of Arthur Holmwood, Lord Godalming.

Edward Raven put down the manuscript and offered his appreciation to its writer. "I dare say, Herbert, that this is some exquisite writing. Wouldn’t you agree, Alistair?"

Alistair was dressed in normal upper-class clothing and not in his John Bull disguise. "What I read would seem to serve our needs," he said glumly as he stared out of the window and took a long drink from his whiskey glass.

Taking his cane with him, Raven went over to the young man who had now picked up the manuscript. "Don’t let Alistair dampen your success, Herbert. This is exactly what the Royal Society needs." He put his arm around Herbert’s shoulder. "It would seem that the actual bacteria has had the potentially beneficial side-effect of rendering the populace susceptible to suggestion. Already the Times is questioning the reality of this ‘War of the Worlds’. With his book in print, we will be able to cause the populace to forget the whole bloody affair."

"But shouldn't the people know the truth?" Herbert asked.

Raven and Herbert headed off for a hallway, leaving Alistair Lord Falsworth to his mourning for his old schoolmate. "Now you don’t concern yourself with that, Herbert G. Wells," Raven explained. "The world simply is not ready for the revelations of life on other worlds …"

EPILOGUE 2

At Whitehall Palace, Mycroft Holmes was going over a few reports that had been given to him earlier in the morning. It had become an extremely busy time once again for the British Empire. With the death of Queen Victoria earlier in the year, his resources had been stretched thin. Many factions had sought to capitalize on the Queen’s death to foment rebellion and insurrection in the Empire’s many holdings.

Mycroft had been forced to stretch his resources in order to deal with all of the problems that were plaguing the "Empire upon which the sun never set." His resources had been so depleted that he did not have any of his top operatives to employ during the Martian Invasion.

He paged through the report which had been given to him by Edward Raven. He was surprised at how effectively the Royal Society had been in dealing with the situation. He had been leery of the resourcefulness of the Society, even though it was an organization that he had helped found when he began in Her Majesty’s secret service in 1883. It had served him well initially as he advanced towards position of higher power. Still he harbored some affection for those Lords and Ladies who felt it their duty to serve the interests of the Empire. Perhaps the Royal Society could become an effective tool in his hands once again.

He noted with surprise that Fu Manchu and the Yellow Claw had actually cooperated during the course of the operation. That was unprecedented given their long-standing animosity. That both of them had established centers of operation here in London gave him concern. He would need to assign closer watch to them. Fu Manchu, Mycroft surmised, would return to Burma, to rebuild. Perhaps that up and coming young fellow Denis Nayland Smith might be the man to assign that region. It might test his mettle.

EPILOGUE 3

A question of graver and universal interest is the possibility of another attack from the Martians. I do not think that nearly enough attention is being given to this aspect of the matter. At present the planet Mars is in conjunction, but with every return to opposition I, for one, anticipate a renewal of their adventure. In any case, we should be prepared. It seems to me that it should be possible to define the position of the gun from which the shots are discharged, to keep a sustained watch upon this part of the planet, and to anticipate the arrival of the next attack.

Having seen Herbert home earlier in the evening, Edward Raven put down his journal. He had at last completed the entry regarding the Martian invasion. Filing the report with Mycroft had taken longer than he had initially estimated. For a few minutes, he contemplated the ramifications of the invasion. Then his course was clear in his mind.

He would make sure that Mars was watched so that another surprise invasion would not occur. He would make it his life’s work. He would make it his family’s work. The House of Raven would be the bane of Martians, if they ever dared to come back.

"If the Martians would hope to conquer this world," he mused. "They will first have to Kill a Raven."

WAR OF THE WORDS

To find out more about the longstanding rivalry between Fu Manchu and the Yellow Claw, be sure to check out Jess Nevins' Fin De Siecle series coming out soon!

I'll be dealing with some of the repercussions of this story in future tales in Mighty World of Marvel as well as my own Vampire Tales and perhaps even in a War of the Worlds mini-series.

As to the mysterious members of the Royal Society, here are the details. Alistair Lord Falsworth, John Bull, was the father to Montgomery (Union Jack) Falsworth and Jonathan (Baron Blood) Falsworth. Edward Raven is the great-grandfather to Jonathan (Killraven) Raven from the War of the Worlds serial that ran during the 1970s in Amazing Adventures.

The italicized text in this serial was taken from the original H.G. Wells novel.