Dragons On The Thames
by Rob Morris

LONDON, 1999

The woman known only as M looked in disgust at her department's emergency headquarters. She turned to her top agent, a man of both talent and difficulty.

"Commander--I do not like being reduced to this. These facilities were built with the idea that when we used them, atom bombs would be falling outside."

The agent nodded.

"Agreed, M. But if you consider that most of these creatures were rewawakened by atom bomb tests, perhaps this extreme measure makes a bit more sense."

She shook her head.

"Godzilla, certainly. But Manda was a 'Deity' of some kind. Could the Kilaaks be working with the Lemurians? Is London now paying the price for your involvement in The Atragon Affair?"

"No. The People of Mu met their fate, and Manda was directionless, prior to being taken to Ogasawara. The Atragon's Captain is an old and valued friend. He'd have told me to be wary."

Resigning herself to the sparse office area, M sat down.

"At least we have one piece of good news to report. Godzilla has left British waters altogether. He's headed for New York."

He started.

"Again?"

She looked up, and her face showed that she expected better of him.

"Commander, despite CNN and Sky-Channel's proclamations, last year's 'Daikaiju' event in New York was unrelated to 'Shin Gojira' as the Japanese call him. Happily, he's out of the picture. The Americans will already have their hands quite full with the 'Classic' model."

"In any event, M, it hardly matters. Our real worries in this instance are Manda here in The South, and Baragon in The North."

"Baragon? Are You Certain?"

"Some tourists by Hadrian's Wall found him, and snapped some pictures as he emerged. The tourists we found in pieces."

A Department Head is supposed to know all these things, she told herself. But the current chaos allowed no time to be as thorough as she would like. Happily, this agent liked being ahead of the curve, a tradition her predecessor had once urged her to both tolerate and treasure.

"Then we know. The Kilaaks are literally trying to sink this whole island. Wait--wasn't Baragon reported in Paris?"

"No. Another media sound-bite, all speed and little accuracy. That was Gorosaurus, smashing up the Arc De Triumphe."

"Too many of them, Commander. I wonder for our prospects against this rising tide. Tanks and heavy artillery as always, are useless."

The agent was careful not to offer any sort of direct comfort to a fiercely proud woman who had once declared him a relic, unneeded after 1991's watershed.

"M, I once said the same thing, when the foe was more human in scale. Your predecessor then reminded me of Stavros Blofeld. Yesterday, he was almost King over the whole world on three or more occasions. Today, he is a caricature that a comedian named Myers lampoons to good box office results. We both know about turnaround. Keep yourself alive, keep your wits about you, and wait for that moment which nearly always presents itself."

"Indeed, Commander. Even our working truce is an example of that. But the question remains. What do we do about Manda and Baragon? At present, we don't even know from where the Kilaaks are based."

"So long as its not another Volcano."

M was about to chastise the Commander about quips and propriety. But when a battery of secured, supposedly inviolate TV monitors sprung to life, both turned and looked.

"The Heads of British Intelligence Will Surrender To Us. We already control a sizable number of your agents, both those in the field and those in your offices. You Have No Choice In The Matter."

The Kilaak Mistress assumed the form of a Caucasian woman here, just as she had assumed the form of an Asian in Japan. Either way, M maintained her composure in the face of the threats. She was glad to see her agent watching and analyzing the situation.

"I Wouldn't Expect A Mass Surrender, If I Were You, Kilaak Mistress. Modern Britian has a tradition of repulsing Earth's native dictators. I Don't Expect We'll Give In To An Imported One."

"Besides, you Kilaaks left us some of our people. Its a mistake I intend to see that you sincerely regret."

The Kilaak Mistress knew she was being mocked by a mere underling, and was internally furious at this. Externally, though, she kept her eerie calm.

"You sound quite certain of your victory, Mister......"

The Agent Smiled.

"The Name Is Bond......James Bond."

"Then....Goodbye, Mister Bond!"

She faded, and when she did, M slapped the small desk in front of her.

"007, it all makes sense. The Department Heads of Intelligence could give them a measure of control no PM or MP ever could."

"Moreover, M---your predecessor served 30 years--far longer than most any PM. Like the island itself, they're seeking to take out the foundation--or at least the gravel in its cement."

The room began to shake. Bond knew, then.

"M, we have unwanted visitors, and I strongly suggest we pretend we're not home."

"That never worked with my former Mother-In-Law, 007--but I'll try it here."

Some were trying to escape--others were firing at them, as they went. But the reverse course to the Emergency Shelter's hidden entrance by the Seashore was found by almost all the operatives. Two shrieks were heard--Manda's and Baragon's. Manda poked half his body out of the entrance. But M held a remote control.

"I Think Not."

When the remote was hit, doors meant to block the effects of a
theorized nuclear strike closed on Manda, bisecting him. The remaining
half wailed in agony, and made for the comfort of cold waters.

The doors were pounding.

"That trick won't work on Baragon, and I suspect he'll be through soon."

But Bond's reputation in these matters was not unearned.

"M, have you transferred all our files to the Shelter's computers, as yet?"

"No, Commander. There's been no time to...Yes, I believe it will work. That terminal in the guardpost should give me access."

As if on cue, the uncontrolled operatives were fired upon by the controlled ones. Bond and a few others answered with fire of their own. M made her way to the terminal, taking note that the Kilaaks had some of her most loyal people.

"Its likely the reason they were targeted. Loyalty can be twisted so easily."

She keyed in the necessary code, and was prepared to hit Enter when a gun was placed right at her temple.

"Kilaak Mistress has directed that you Di...."

M heard a gunshot, but realized she had not been hit. Bond had taken out the assasin. She hit Enter.

"Now, M?"

"Now, Commander, we hope that thing has organs and a brain."

In case of utter disaster, the current M had directed that the shelter be fitted with a series of devices capable of generating a sub-nuclear-type EM Pulse, wiping away any records an invading enemy might find. Needless to say, such a burst would not be healthy for the invaders, either.

There was a blue flash inside the cliff.

Baragon did not emerge.

Later, Baragon's condition would be reported as so grave, he had to 'sit out' the great battle at The Kilaak Base against King Ghidorah. One report said the creature looked like he was falling apart.

M counted all her living, and swore silently to avenge the dead. Bond had kept his head the most level, and had turned the day with his suggestion. She allowed him almost none of it.

"A passably competent job, Commander. Where do you think you are headed now?"

In the distance, Moonlight SY-3 landed and its crew disembarked, to offer what help it could before resuming its mission.

"Can't talk now, M--my ride's here!"

As she watched the great ship take off, M shook her head once again.

"Boys With Toys."