"DUST MITES ATTACK! I - Mad Science"
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dochermes"DUST MITES ATTACK! I - Mad Science"
9/11-9/12/2010
I.
Striding briskly up Park Avenue at nine AM, they drew many interested and appreciative glances. Two attractive young women in their early twenties, the platinum blonde Ashley was dressed all in white.. boots, snug jeans and pullover sweater with a rolled collar. Next to her, the slightly taller brunette Megan wore all black...sneakers, slacks and a plain T-shirt under a light windbreaker. This wasn't a deliberate statement or anything, just their preferences.
They stood on the corner of 83rd Street, waiting for the light. The blonde was smiling with the seraphic serenity of extreme confidence. "I really disliked that Mrs Claire," she said. "I bet she has never been in a restaurant where she didn't demand to speak to the manager. And she talked to us as if we were airhead bimbos."
"You miss the previous Director but Lionel Davenport was acting out a kindly pose to win our affection," said Megan Salenger. Her inquisitive foxlike face under a tousle of short black hair regarded her teammate coolly.
"Oh sure. I realize that. But I appreciate the effort to make us feel comfortable." With her finely-chiseled features, crystal blue eyes and slightly cleft chin, the Unicorn would have been gorgeous even without the sass in her tone and the glee in her expression. "He wanted us to like him, not just be intimidated."
As part of the crowd moving across 83rd, Megan said, "For an espionage organization, INTERCEPT has an unusually respectable reputation. Very few scandals, very few outright blunders. Lionel Davenport had been the sole Director for all the group's existence. He in fact took the post thirty years ago at the same time our KDF was founded."
"Those spiky eyebrows used to crack me up. I rilly wanted to trim them with my nail clippers."
"I am relieved you did not offer to do so." Megan's even, deadpan tone made it difficult to detect any irony or sarcasm. After years of working so closely with the Trom Girl, Ashley felt she could usually spot a remarkably dry sense of humor but she usually could not be sure.
They stopped in front of a shining spike of chrome and white stone that rose up seventy-two stories. The mantle over the front entrance bore the cryptic name WILLETTS and the number 533. "Here we is," Unicorn observed. "Home of Merrick Shale, the world's most famous secret agent."
"The internal contradiction in that phrase does not sit well with me," Trom Girl replied. "Ashley, we both read the file on this man, but do you have any additional information?"
"Tons and tons, mostly rumors with some confirmation," the little blonde promptly replied. "A world-class genius in the body of an Olympic athlete. Eleven doctorates in everything from biochemistry to Constitutional law to ramjet design. Made one fortune in stock trading, another in real estate, another in leasing applications of a patented surgical tool he invented. Won the Kumite in Hong Kong four years in a row. World champion of chessboxing. Flies his own jet and was chef at a five star hotel in New Orleans, but he also speaks seven languages..."
"Stop, please." Megan Salenger's default expression was one of thoughtful contemplation but now a rare scowl of disapproval showed. "He is only thirty-six. Does it strike you that all these accomplishments in a single young man are so unlikely as to suggest fraud?"
'"Well, DUH. He's an over-achiever. His parents probably messed him up by never being satisfied by anything he did. And I didn't even start on all the times he acted as a freelance agent for spy groups like the Mandate and Department 21 Black!"
The Trom Girl seemed to have realized that she had allowed annoyance to make her stoical mask slip. She straightened her shoulders. "Be that as it may. INTERCEPT has asked us to meet with him."
The two of them strolled confidently through an enormous lobby more palatial than most actual palaces. The marble floor inlaid with black speckled patterns, the gold trim on furnishings, the original oil paintings of landscapes were wasted on Ashley and Megan. They had stood before the thrones of Androval and Chujir, being given audience by actual kings and emperors. A facing wall displayed a bank of ten elevators with well-dressed people coming and going.
The two KDF members stepped up to a wall niche which held only a plain unmarked green-painted steel door. Any passerby would decide it gave access to circuit breakers or mops or something mundane. But when Megan and Ashley got close enough to the door, it slid open with a hiss to reveal an elevstor cage. They entered, the door closed and the hum beneath their feet told of their ascent.
"Nice," said Ashley, "But you notice there are no controls. I guess it only goes to one place."
Megan pulled back her sleeve and peeked at what looked to be a normal, slim watch. "We're being X-rayed, Ashley."
"Hah! Let 'em! The Trom armor will keep them from getting a look at our girly bits."
A second later, the door slid open with a ding to reveal a foyer ten feet across, holding a comfortable padded bench, a large potted red-and-blue plant of exotic origin and a table with some current news magazines. Standing in the open inner doorway was a tall blonde woman in an informal business attire. "Good morning," she greeted them. "My name is Monica. Mr Shale will see you."
At first, the woman seemed mousy, perhaps even plain. But Ashley quickly changed her opinion. The fine-textured rosy skin, the dark blue eyes with the green flecks, the curve of the full lips were all remarkably attractive. The hair pulled back in a severe bun and total lack of make-up were deliberate toning down. This woman was downplaying her good looks to seem more professional, and the Unicorn noted this with interest.
They were led into a spacious high-ceilinged penthouse room with windows gazing down at the trees of Central Park. The subdued decor of dark wood and leather was not ostentatious. Shelves along the walls held not only books but various intriguing objects like a bear skull, large pink conch shells, matched dueling pistols and scrimshaw. From behind a paper-strewn desk wide enough to lie down on, Merrick Shale rose with a grin. "Please, seat yourselves and be comfortable. I've heard all about the man whose face was eaten by invisible bugs."
II.
As they settled into overstuffed leather easy chairs, Ashley and Megan exchanged quick glances. They both seemed concerned that the other would be too impressed by this extremely masculine man. That brief eye contact reassured them. "Very pleased to meet you," Trom Girl said.
At six feet two but trim and athletic in his slacks and white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled back, Shale was not pretty at all. The narrow, weather-beaten face showed rugged strength under a veneer of polished good manners. Shale had thick, sandy-blond hair cut short and dark blue eyes. His voice was deep, not ridiculously so, but carrying unstressed authority. "I must say the same, ladies. The Midnight War has fascinated me since I was a child. Miss Whitaker, I followed the career of your mother, Mary Cassidy, the first Unicorn. What a pleasant surprise when you showed up as an adventurer in your own right! The new Unicorn."
Ashley decided to gift him with her most dazzling smile. "Thank you so much."
"And you, Miss Salenger," Shale went on. "The Trom Girl. I'm sure you are not allowed to reveal your secrets. But imagine how intriguing you are. A Human orphan raised by the Trom. Almost nothing is known about them. They're supposed to be a Cousin Race, all emotionless geniuses. I would give so much to learn all about you. You must be one of the most fascinating people alive."
Flattery seemed to pass right over Megan's hearing. "We have been requested by INTERCEPT to investigate that unusual death you mentioned. I don't have all the background on your relationship with INTERCEPT?"
"I was never an agent for them," Shale said. "A few times, I did agree to look into some matters for them because the safety of the public was at risk. That's all."
"Mr Davenport feels this is just such a threat," Megan replied.
Shale cocked his head quizzically. "Lionel Davenport has many fine agents to investigate something like this. I'm scheduled to fly to Trondheim tomorrow. I'm playing cello for the National Orchestra, it's an honor I don't want to disregard. I'm sure INTERCEPT can resolve this problem well without my help."
"None of the INTERCEPT agents have your experience or your capabilities," Megan said.
Ashley spoke up. "Mr Shale, my partner and I are going to investigate this case. I admit it's a little unsettling to not have any substantial starting points. Honestly, not trying to flatter you, but I would feel a whole lot better with you on hand."
"It's nice to be appreciated..." the man began but his voices were cut off by a long, undulating scream of sheer terror and agony from an adjoining room. All three of them shot to their feet without an instant of doubt or hesitation. They plunged through an open doorway into what seemed to be a small office with many reference books on shelves and a small, tidy desk with IN and OUT baskets.
Sprawled back in a swivel chair behind that desk, Monica slumped limply to the carpeting as they entered. Megan Salenger barked, "Ash! Hold him back!"
In the next second, the Trom Girl had snapped on black latex gloves from an inner pocket and was bent over the unresponsive woman. She found no pulse or breathing. Taking a thin flat metal device off its clip on her belt, she began taking readings.
To his surprise and dismay, Merrick Shale was having difficulty breaking free of the grip of a woman n more than five feet one and only one hundred pounds. Ashley had got a wrist-bending lock with both hands and had pressed one of his knees forward with her foot. It was taking him too long to break free even with his greater strength.
"I'm sorry," Megan said at last. "Death was at least quick. Her blood stream is full of an unknown toxin. Order this room sealed off and decontaminated."
"Oh, Monica.. oh, baby," Shale moaned. "She's been my best friend for years." Then he got a look at her face and gasped. "The same death as that man!"
It was true. From hairline to throat, all the skin was gone from her face. Raw red muscle glistened wetly. The eyelids were gone and her blank white gaze was horrifying. All three of them, hardened as they were to violent death, stared in a dazed shock.
Releasing the gaping Shale, Ashley handed the clean plastic liner of a waste paper basket to Megan, who tied her inside-out gloves inside it. "Our enhanced healing ability can not be entirely counted on. Let's go to the living room."
As they closed the door to the office where the body was lying, Merrick Shale straightened up and squared his shoulders. He gestured to a pretty, petite Vietnamese woman who was approaching with a clipboard thick with papers to be signed. "Betty! Call Mr Davenport at INTERCEPT and tell him I'm taking the mission. Cancel all my activities until further notice."
"Merrick? What was that scream a minute ago?" she asked.
"I'll explain everything in a second. Bring Lucia here, she should be in the solarium." While the second of his aides rushed off, Shale turned suddenly bleak eyes on his visitors, then motioned them over to his desk. "Before I phone the police, show me what you found on poor Monica."
Megan tapped on her screen. "Images are in your laptop now, Mr Shale."
Bent closer to his computer, Shale frowned and scrolled through the images, while Ashley followed on her own Link. He leaned back with a sigh. "An unknown species of Dermatophagoides. The fangs are venom injectors..."
"Looks like an arachnid," Unicorn put in. "Round body and head construction, eight legs, no antennae. A bedbug, maybe?"
"These are dust mites, Ashley," Megan said softly, "Thousands of them live on your eyelashes."
"Not on MY eyelashes, they better not!"
"On everyone's, dear. They eat dead skin cells and debris. Quite beneficial and harmless," Megan told her and added, "Until now."
With a release of anger, Shale slammed the laptop shut. "They are microscopic, always too small to be seen by the unaided eye... But not these. These are big enough to be clearly visible. I saw dozens of them falling dead off Monica's face."
"I would need some blood samples," Megan said, "But a working theory would be that she died from the injection of some toxin similar to formic acid. These dust mites have been weaponized."
Merrick Shale raised his taut face to look from one visitor to the other. "I never had a better or more trusted friend than Monica Brantwell. I'm going to call the police here now and then explain to the other ladies on my team."
"Mr Shale," Unicorn said, reaching out to place a tiny hand on his shoulder. "I can't say how sorry I am, sir."
"I'm sorry, too. Sorry I was going to brush you two off and go my merry way. Not any more. I always work alone but this time is different. Let's go find whoever did this."
III.
Making no more noise than a stiff breeze, the black stealthcopter CORBY shot through a dark moonless night at ten thousand feet. Showing no external lights or identifying markings, the mystery craft would have launched urban legends if it were spotted by civilians. Megan Salenger sat in the pilot seat with the combined cyclic-collective stick between her and her co-pilot Ashley Whitaker.
In the rear compartment, Merrick Shale sat on the short metal bench, secured by restraint straps across his chest and around his waist. He was wearing a well-tailored brown business suit with tan shirt and loosened black tie. At his feet was a duffel bag, tied to a leg of the bench.
"I must admit, it's extremely difficult not to keep up a barrage of questions," he said after a long period of silence.
Turning that shining platinum head toward him, Unicorn said over her shoulder, "Glad you have some self-control, Mr Shale."
"But this bird is unbelievable. It's way advanced ahead of anything in the air. The smoothness, for one thing. The silent flight. We've passed close to major airports without their radar reporting us. It can't be just superior tech, it's like Black Magick!"
"Mr Davenport of INTERCEPT vouched for you, sir," Ashley went on as if not having heard him. "So did Army Intelligence and the Mandate. They all said basically the same thing. You're highly skilled and competent but you just will not follow orders."
"Some of us were not born to run with the pack. Listen, under the circumstances, we better be on a first name basis. Ashley, Megan, is that all right?"
"Fine with me, Merrick," said the little blonde. "I also like being called Unicorn. Megan's war name is Science Nerd."
"It is NOT," came a crisp rebuttal, "Trom Girl is acceptable."
"Maybe that's something you're allowed to clear up," Shale went on. "I know they look Human, but they're all super-geniuses who over qualify for Nobel Prizes, but how can they claim an orphaned child and just raise her any way they want? Did you not have any relatives at all? Did you go to school?"
Was there the faintest hint of annoyance in Megan's subdued tones? or was she only mimicking that hint to make a point? Not even her closest friend could be sure. "I suggest we concentrate on the threat we now face."
"Fair enough," Shale replied. "You know, as somber as this time is with the loss of Monica, I wonder why I was never asked to join your KDF. Michael Hawk had no supernatural abilities, and neither did Shiro Mitsuru. In fact, Ashley, without the famous Unicorn Horn, you're a normal Human yourself. A superior, top-class specimen of one, of course."
The blonde smiled back at him. "You said yourself, you're not a team player. We'd be waiting for you to act on cue and you'd be off acting on your own impulse."
"Agreed," he said promptly. "I want to be the bride at every wedding and the corpse at every funeral."
Ashley caught Megan's eye and shrugged. She was finding Merrick likeable because, despite his incredible array of abilities and accomplishments, the man was not full of himself. He seemed to take himself for granted, as if anyone could be a world-class martial artist, biochemical engineer, multilinguist, spelunker, chess grandmaster and a dozen other demanding skillsets. His relaxed diffidence made him bearable.
"You could be an Associate Member," she suggested. "Called in for special situations."
From the co-pilot seat, Megan broke in. "Over Coventry, New Hampshire. We will arrive at your co-ordinates in three minutes eleven seconds."
"I feel bad for Betty and Lucia!" Shale snapped. "They're dealing with poor Monica's loss and I'm sure the police have been grilling them nonstop., I should be there with them. But we have to hit the trail while it's still at least warm."
"Your staff is all women, Merrick?"
"My personal aides are. They schedule appointments, take care of legal matters, keep an eye on upkeep. My LearJet flight crew is three men. My GP happens to be an old man. I hire the best I can get."
An amused chuckle escaped Unicorn's lips. "When I saw three beautiful women waiting on you, I thought you were keeping a harem."
"Ashley! Let's stay professional." The Trom Girl pulled up on the stick, slowing the CORBY. "Merrick , there were no signs of gralic residue from the attack in your office. We Trom can not process gralic energy but we recognize its presence. Some advanced technology was at work. Something forbidden."
"What we call Mad Science," added Unicorn. "You know, what Mad Scientists work on. Giant robots, death rays, matter transporters, that kind of thing. There's only three big shot Mad Scientists lurking in their labs their days. A few more minor ones."
"Karl Eldritch is dead, of course," Shale mused. "He was the absolute worst, him and his Lost Secrets of ancient Zhune. But I think someone here can point us to the current top candidate. In any case, Alexander Grim is closest of the three possibilities."
"Ready to touch down," Megan interrupted them. "We are at left rear of restaurant parking lot. Area alarms disabled in three, two, one... now."
Unfastening his restraint straps, Merrick Shale stood up. "Megan, as convenient as your Trom tech makes operations, I did say I wanted to use my own methods."
Again seeming to not hear, the Trom Girl said, "Bio-scanners show five adult Human males in close proximity. Seated. Air traces of Scotch whiskey, beer and cigarette smoke. I can render them unconscious with a low intensity neural shock beam."
"Don't go selectively deaf when you don't want to hear something," Shale said a bit sharply. "I'm going in my own way." He turned the wheel and unfastened the rear hatch. Air hissed out as the CORBY interior depressurized.
Even as Shale hopped down to the asphalt of the extensive parking lot, the right front hatch also swung open and Unicorn bounced down next to him. She was wearing the all-black field suit and for once had that gleaming mane tucked up inside her helmet where it would not give her away. "I'm going to be standing by. No arguments, Merrick, I wanna be your back-up."
An unbearably tense moment was broken when he said, "Fine. I did agree to work together." He sprinted through the gloomy parking lot toward the rear of the elegant two-story building. The Hofbrau had been constructed to resemble a dignified Swiss chalet, with rooms for lodgings upstairs that were seldom occupied. Decorative gardens and an outside dining gazebo added to the visual appeal. Hofbrau did sufficient business to stay afloat, although the New Hampshire police were certain its main purpose was to help launder money for the Alexander Grim empire. Shale had been here a few times for meetings with shady characters of the badlands. He raced across the empty lot to the rear door, with Ashley f a watching from beside the CORBY.
Standing next to the glass-paneled rear door, Merrick Shale unfastened one of his large round cuff links. He got a careful grip, pressed down on its top surface with a decisive click. A stainless steel ridge coated with diamond dust rotated swiftly. Shale slid that edge to effortlessly cut a circle in the glass just above the door knob. He turned the device off, popped the cut-out piece inward on tom the rubber mud mat on the floor, then reached inside to open the lock.
Watching from only yards away, Ashley was grinning as if she had just witnessed a magic trick. This was what she had been hoping to see. Shale had a reputation for using clever gimmicks which resembled ordinary objects. Pens which fired .15 bullets or tear gas capsules, key fobs which set off nearby explosives, a cell phone with a built-in blinding glare, shoe heels which pulled out to become the hilts of short stabbing knives.,. he wore a secret arsenal that a casual search overlooked.
Leaving the door open, Shale slid inside. Ashley followed after a few seconds, moving silently through a dim and fresh-smelling kitchen. Through swinging doors, she trailed him across a dining room with a bar alongside one wall. A yellow strip of light showed under a door. Shale dropped to one knee, took out what looked like a tube of Chapstick and pressed its nozzle up against the keyhole. At her count, he waited sixty seconds before straightening up and entering the room.
Merrick Shale emerged with a rather frail-seeming white-haired man over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Giving Ashley the most cursory nod to follow, he loped from the house as easily as not carrying a burden. The Unicorn raced behind, but her thoughts were agitated. That knock-out gas he had sprayed through the keyhole, that dissipated and became harmless after a full minute.. that was like the gas her team sometimes used. It was a variation on the formula for their anesthetic dart guns. He was using Trom tech! But how? The KDF had only managed to get limited access to that tech because they arranged for a Trom to be a student at Tel Shai. How had Shale done it? Man of mystery, the media called him, and Ashley reflected uneasily the name fit.
Running up to the CORBY, Shale placed his unconscious prisoner rather carefully into the rear compartment, nimbly leaped inside himself and slid the hatch shut behind them. "One for questioning," he told Sable. "Wheels up."
Staring back through the clear divider panel between that compartment and the cockpit, the KDF team leader said, "We're not lifting off until we know who he is."
That made Merrick Shale hesitate, as if he hadn't entertained the thought someone might not automatically follow his orders. "Quite right. Yes, of course. This is Dr Abraham Caldwell, he's a senior coordinator of Grim's covert projects. Not the industrial schemes or the military contracts. No, the not-so-good doctor here keeps track of Grim's more experimental and.. let's be honest.. Grim's more devilish projects."
"How do you know this, anyway?" Sable asked.
"I like to be well-informed. Alexander Grim is not the world-threatening menace that his father was, but he's certainly vile enough. Greedy and heartless, to be sure, without even a brief tinge of any sense of right or wrong. Of course, he's flourished in corporate capitalism."
"Naturally," agreed Unicorn. Instead of climbing up into the cockpit, she had joined Shale in the rear compartment. "Let's do a quick search. No guns, no knives, no syringes, no Tomahawk missiles...Here's his ID badge, it does match 'Abraham Feldstein,' keys and a comb. Cigarette lighter. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"His breathing is getting quicker and more shallow," Megan observed. "Your sedative will wear off within six minutes."
"But our guest will be suggestible and open to questioning at first," Shale said. "It's related to Scopolamine but happily with no nausea or vertigo. If I could have your silence, please?"
Propping the dazed and muttering prisoner up against a metal bank of cabinet drawers which took up the wall opposite the bench, Merrick Shale removed his heavy duty Rolex Oyster Perpetual and made an adjustment. The dial lit up with a rotating swirl pattern. As Feldstein's bleary eyes opened, that compelling pattern captured his full attention.
"Relax, relax," said Shale in a deep, soothing voice, "You are calm and relaxed, calm and relaxed...."
As Ashley and Megan watched breathlessly, Shale gave a textbook perfect display of hypnotism. He developed full trust and confidence in his subject and had him talking freely. It seemed that Alexander Grim had long abandoned the wild megalomaniacal projects that involved stealing nuclear devices or robbing bullion depositories. Grim Enterprises had settled into a comfortable, profitable system of mundane rackets and industrial espionage. Feldstein was just as glad. Business was reliable and secure; extorting governments was not.
"You will enjoy a deep, restful sleep," Shale droned on, "And when you awaken naturally, you will feel refreshed and happy, you will remember nothing of what you have said." As Feldstein slumped to one side and took a deep snoring breath, Merrick Shale sat up and straightened his cuffs.
Kneeling next to him, Unicorn stretched, rotating her arms up and behind her. "Outstanding! I felt I was getting hypnotized myself. Megs, he didn't make me cluck like a chicken, did he?"
"No." Just the single disapproving word.
"This wasn't a conclusive investigation," Shale told the two women. "But considering the urgency, I think we should move on to the next possible mastermind. Agreed?"
"Yes. I suggest we move on," the Trom Girl said. "Return him to the building and we will move on."
With Unicorn's assistance, Shale carried the blissfully dozing Feldstein to the rear door of the Hofbrau. He took a second to transfer a thick roll of hundred dollar bills into the man's pants pocket. Seeing the quizzical expression on Ashley's piquant little face, he explained, "Just to confuse matters. They'll be sidetracked figuring out who bribed him twenty thousand in cash."
Megan's voice suddenly crackled in the headphones of Ashley's helmet. "Enemy is active on your nine!"
As smoothly as if she had practiced nothing else all day every day, the Unicorn hopped around to place herself in front of Shale. Running around the corner of the building, a short stocky man whipped up a Ruger Blackhawk revolver and five white flashes detonated with short flat cracks. The soft cough of her air-powered pistol was completely lost in the echoes. The gunman involuntarily slapped at his neck and sagged to the cold asphalt as if weary beyond belief.
Between the layers of Trom armor under her field suit and her tautly muscled body, Ashley had felt the gunfire as no more than light taps. Even the hit which had glanced off her helmet had barely made her head twitch. She wheeled from side to side, saw no one else approaching, and turned to stare down in horror at where Merrick Shale was lying with a garish scarlet blotch on his white shirt.
"Man down..." she began but was brushed aside as Megan Salenger came up at a full sprint and took over. Ashley was glad to let her partner step in. She realized the Trom Girl knew as much about Human anatomy and medical trauma as any ER doctor and had unbreakable nerves under pressure. Peering over her friend's shoulder, Unicorn saw that vivid red blood was seeping from below the right rib cage.
Megan had taken a quick reading on her Link, which she quickly returned to her belt. "Merrick, listen closely. A bullet is lodged in the abdominal muscle. There is no sign of your intestines being perforated or any organ such as kidney or liver being harmed. There is some internal bleeding from veins. Ashley, call 911 for an ambulance but volunteer no unnecessary information."
"I can block the pain," Shale said in a low strained voice. "My Yogi taught me. I'm watching this from a distance."
"Good. Whatever helps. I am not licensed medical personnel but I predict you will be fine with prompt treatment. Ashley, what is their ETA?"
"They said about six minutes. They're coming from downtown."
"That should work well. Merrick, I'm applying an external compress. You do not seem to be going into shock." The Trom Girl tilted her head to regard him more thoughtfully. "You act as if you've been shot before."
"Not my first rodeo," he managed. "Ouch. Old Ram exaggerated when he said pain was just an illusion. Say, Unicorn, that was awful nice to you to take those bullets for me."
"Aw, well, you know, I'm wearing a bullet-proof vest," she laughed. "Times like these makes the itchiness worth it. Megs and I are gonna have to get out of here just as the ambulance pulls up. You understand."
"Oh, of course. You KDF operate in the shadows. The KDF is never officially on the scene. I get it."
"But I'll come visit in the morning with flowers and candy," she went on. "No, come to think of it, your all-girl crew will be there holding your hand and sobbing anyway."
"You are both more than welcome to come see me. Listen! There's the siren. Better take off!"
"Sorry, sorry, hope we can work together again," Ashley said as she followed Megan at a run. Just as the ambulance headlights showed in the driveway, the CORBY launched straight upward and was gone from sight. Merrick Shale laughed out at the irony of it all, but the sharp pain in his side stopped him.swt
Inside the cockpit of the stealthcopter, Unicorn was still fastening her restraint straps. "Well, THAT was interesting! At least we got to meet the world's most famous secret agent. What's your honest reaction, Megan?"
"I have to say he is a remarkably gifted and disciplined individual," the Trom Girl replied. "You see the EMTs are examining him now, they're bringing out a stretcher. We can head back to base."
Unicorn reached over to touch her friend's arm. "You know, all on his own, he's working on a Tel Shai level. I saw those innocent-looking gizmos up close, they're too good to be true. I wonder. The guy is a certified genius in two dozen highly demanding areas. Remind you of anyone?"
In the subdued back glow of the control panels, Megan Salenger could be seen to let her stoical poker face drop for an instant. "What are you implying?"
"I'm thinking maybe you were not the only one of your kind. Maybe he was raised the same way you were, hon. He might be your equivalent Trom Boy!"
2/3/2025
9/11-9/12/2010
I.
Striding briskly up Park Avenue at nine AM, they drew many interested and appreciative glances. Two attractive young women in their early twenties, the platinum blonde Ashley was dressed all in white.. boots, snug jeans and pullover sweater with a rolled collar. Next to her, the slightly taller brunette Megan wore all black...sneakers, slacks and a plain T-shirt under a light windbreaker. This wasn't a deliberate statement or anything, just their preferences.
They stood on the corner of 83rd Street, waiting for the light. The blonde was smiling with the seraphic serenity of extreme confidence. "I really disliked that Mrs Claire," she said. "I bet she has never been in a restaurant where she didn't demand to speak to the manager. And she talked to us as if we were airhead bimbos."
"You miss the previous Director but Lionel Davenport was acting out a kindly pose to win our affection," said Megan Salenger. Her inquisitive foxlike face under a tousle of short black hair regarded her teammate coolly.
"Oh sure. I realize that. But I appreciate the effort to make us feel comfortable." With her finely-chiseled features, crystal blue eyes and slightly cleft chin, the Unicorn would have been gorgeous even without the sass in her tone and the glee in her expression. "He wanted us to like him, not just be intimidated."
As part of the crowd moving across 83rd, Megan said, "For an espionage organization, INTERCEPT has an unusually respectable reputation. Very few scandals, very few outright blunders. Lionel Davenport had been the sole Director for all the group's existence. He in fact took the post thirty years ago at the same time our KDF was founded."
"Those spiky eyebrows used to crack me up. I rilly wanted to trim them with my nail clippers."
"I am relieved you did not offer to do so." Megan's even, deadpan tone made it difficult to detect any irony or sarcasm. After years of working so closely with the Trom Girl, Ashley felt she could usually spot a remarkably dry sense of humor but she usually could not be sure.
They stopped in front of a shining spike of chrome and white stone that rose up seventy-two stories. The mantle over the front entrance bore the cryptic name WILLETTS and the number 533. "Here we is," Unicorn observed. "Home of Merrick Shale, the world's most famous secret agent."
"The internal contradiction in that phrase does not sit well with me," Trom Girl replied. "Ashley, we both read the file on this man, but do you have any additional information?"
"Tons and tons, mostly rumors with some confirmation," the little blonde promptly replied. "A world-class genius in the body of an Olympic athlete. Eleven doctorates in everything from biochemistry to Constitutional law to ramjet design. Made one fortune in stock trading, another in real estate, another in leasing applications of a patented surgical tool he invented. Won the Kumite in Hong Kong four years in a row. World champion of chessboxing. Flies his own jet and was chef at a five star hotel in New Orleans, but he also speaks seven languages..."
"Stop, please." Megan Salenger's default expression was one of thoughtful contemplation but now a rare scowl of disapproval showed. "He is only thirty-six. Does it strike you that all these accomplishments in a single young man are so unlikely as to suggest fraud?"
'"Well, DUH. He's an over-achiever. His parents probably messed him up by never being satisfied by anything he did. And I didn't even start on all the times he acted as a freelance agent for spy groups like the Mandate and Department 21 Black!"
The Trom Girl seemed to have realized that she had allowed annoyance to make her stoical mask slip. She straightened her shoulders. "Be that as it may. INTERCEPT has asked us to meet with him."
The two of them strolled confidently through an enormous lobby more palatial than most actual palaces. The marble floor inlaid with black speckled patterns, the gold trim on furnishings, the original oil paintings of landscapes were wasted on Ashley and Megan. They had stood before the thrones of Androval and Chujir, being given audience by actual kings and emperors. A facing wall displayed a bank of ten elevators with well-dressed people coming and going.
The two KDF members stepped up to a wall niche which held only a plain unmarked green-painted steel door. Any passerby would decide it gave access to circuit breakers or mops or something mundane. But when Megan and Ashley got close enough to the door, it slid open with a hiss to reveal an elevstor cage. They entered, the door closed and the hum beneath their feet told of their ascent.
"Nice," said Ashley, "But you notice there are no controls. I guess it only goes to one place."
Megan pulled back her sleeve and peeked at what looked to be a normal, slim watch. "We're being X-rayed, Ashley."
"Hah! Let 'em! The Trom armor will keep them from getting a look at our girly bits."
A second later, the door slid open with a ding to reveal a foyer ten feet across, holding a comfortable padded bench, a large potted red-and-blue plant of exotic origin and a table with some current news magazines. Standing in the open inner doorway was a tall blonde woman in an informal business attire. "Good morning," she greeted them. "My name is Monica. Mr Shale will see you."
At first, the woman seemed mousy, perhaps even plain. But Ashley quickly changed her opinion. The fine-textured rosy skin, the dark blue eyes with the green flecks, the curve of the full lips were all remarkably attractive. The hair pulled back in a severe bun and total lack of make-up were deliberate toning down. This woman was downplaying her good looks to seem more professional, and the Unicorn noted this with interest.
They were led into a spacious high-ceilinged penthouse room with windows gazing down at the trees of Central Park. The subdued decor of dark wood and leather was not ostentatious. Shelves along the walls held not only books but various intriguing objects like a bear skull, large pink conch shells, matched dueling pistols and scrimshaw. From behind a paper-strewn desk wide enough to lie down on, Merrick Shale rose with a grin. "Please, seat yourselves and be comfortable. I've heard all about the man whose face was eaten by invisible bugs."
II.
As they settled into overstuffed leather easy chairs, Ashley and Megan exchanged quick glances. They both seemed concerned that the other would be too impressed by this extremely masculine man. That brief eye contact reassured them. "Very pleased to meet you," Trom Girl said.
At six feet two but trim and athletic in his slacks and white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled back, Shale was not pretty at all. The narrow, weather-beaten face showed rugged strength under a veneer of polished good manners. Shale had thick, sandy-blond hair cut short and dark blue eyes. His voice was deep, not ridiculously so, but carrying unstressed authority. "I must say the same, ladies. The Midnight War has fascinated me since I was a child. Miss Whitaker, I followed the career of your mother, Mary Cassidy, the first Unicorn. What a pleasant surprise when you showed up as an adventurer in your own right! The new Unicorn."
Ashley decided to gift him with her most dazzling smile. "Thank you so much."
"And you, Miss Salenger," Shale went on. "The Trom Girl. I'm sure you are not allowed to reveal your secrets. But imagine how intriguing you are. A Human orphan raised by the Trom. Almost nothing is known about them. They're supposed to be a Cousin Race, all emotionless geniuses. I would give so much to learn all about you. You must be one of the most fascinating people alive."
Flattery seemed to pass right over Megan's hearing. "We have been requested by INTERCEPT to investigate that unusual death you mentioned. I don't have all the background on your relationship with INTERCEPT?"
"I was never an agent for them," Shale said. "A few times, I did agree to look into some matters for them because the safety of the public was at risk. That's all."
"Mr Davenport feels this is just such a threat," Megan replied.
Shale cocked his head quizzically. "Lionel Davenport has many fine agents to investigate something like this. I'm scheduled to fly to Trondheim tomorrow. I'm playing cello for the National Orchestra, it's an honor I don't want to disregard. I'm sure INTERCEPT can resolve this problem well without my help."
"None of the INTERCEPT agents have your experience or your capabilities," Megan said.
Ashley spoke up. "Mr Shale, my partner and I are going to investigate this case. I admit it's a little unsettling to not have any substantial starting points. Honestly, not trying to flatter you, but I would feel a whole lot better with you on hand."
"It's nice to be appreciated..." the man began but his voices were cut off by a long, undulating scream of sheer terror and agony from an adjoining room. All three of them shot to their feet without an instant of doubt or hesitation. They plunged through an open doorway into what seemed to be a small office with many reference books on shelves and a small, tidy desk with IN and OUT baskets.
Sprawled back in a swivel chair behind that desk, Monica slumped limply to the carpeting as they entered. Megan Salenger barked, "Ash! Hold him back!"
In the next second, the Trom Girl had snapped on black latex gloves from an inner pocket and was bent over the unresponsive woman. She found no pulse or breathing. Taking a thin flat metal device off its clip on her belt, she began taking readings.
To his surprise and dismay, Merrick Shale was having difficulty breaking free of the grip of a woman n more than five feet one and only one hundred pounds. Ashley had got a wrist-bending lock with both hands and had pressed one of his knees forward with her foot. It was taking him too long to break free even with his greater strength.
"I'm sorry," Megan said at last. "Death was at least quick. Her blood stream is full of an unknown toxin. Order this room sealed off and decontaminated."
"Oh, Monica.. oh, baby," Shale moaned. "She's been my best friend for years." Then he got a look at her face and gasped. "The same death as that man!"
It was true. From hairline to throat, all the skin was gone from her face. Raw red muscle glistened wetly. The eyelids were gone and her blank white gaze was horrifying. All three of them, hardened as they were to violent death, stared in a dazed shock.
Releasing the gaping Shale, Ashley handed the clean plastic liner of a waste paper basket to Megan, who tied her inside-out gloves inside it. "Our enhanced healing ability can not be entirely counted on. Let's go to the living room."
As they closed the door to the office where the body was lying, Merrick Shale straightened up and squared his shoulders. He gestured to a pretty, petite Vietnamese woman who was approaching with a clipboard thick with papers to be signed. "Betty! Call Mr Davenport at INTERCEPT and tell him I'm taking the mission. Cancel all my activities until further notice."
"Merrick? What was that scream a minute ago?" she asked.
"I'll explain everything in a second. Bring Lucia here, she should be in the solarium." While the second of his aides rushed off, Shale turned suddenly bleak eyes on his visitors, then motioned them over to his desk. "Before I phone the police, show me what you found on poor Monica."
Megan tapped on her screen. "Images are in your laptop now, Mr Shale."
Bent closer to his computer, Shale frowned and scrolled through the images, while Ashley followed on her own Link. He leaned back with a sigh. "An unknown species of Dermatophagoides. The fangs are venom injectors..."
"Looks like an arachnid," Unicorn put in. "Round body and head construction, eight legs, no antennae. A bedbug, maybe?"
"These are dust mites, Ashley," Megan said softly, "Thousands of them live on your eyelashes."
"Not on MY eyelashes, they better not!"
"On everyone's, dear. They eat dead skin cells and debris. Quite beneficial and harmless," Megan told her and added, "Until now."
With a release of anger, Shale slammed the laptop shut. "They are microscopic, always too small to be seen by the unaided eye... But not these. These are big enough to be clearly visible. I saw dozens of them falling dead off Monica's face."
"I would need some blood samples," Megan said, "But a working theory would be that she died from the injection of some toxin similar to formic acid. These dust mites have been weaponized."
Merrick Shale raised his taut face to look from one visitor to the other. "I never had a better or more trusted friend than Monica Brantwell. I'm going to call the police here now and then explain to the other ladies on my team."
"Mr Shale," Unicorn said, reaching out to place a tiny hand on his shoulder. "I can't say how sorry I am, sir."
"I'm sorry, too. Sorry I was going to brush you two off and go my merry way. Not any more. I always work alone but this time is different. Let's go find whoever did this."
III.
Making no more noise than a stiff breeze, the black stealthcopter CORBY shot through a dark moonless night at ten thousand feet. Showing no external lights or identifying markings, the mystery craft would have launched urban legends if it were spotted by civilians. Megan Salenger sat in the pilot seat with the combined cyclic-collective stick between her and her co-pilot Ashley Whitaker.
In the rear compartment, Merrick Shale sat on the short metal bench, secured by restraint straps across his chest and around his waist. He was wearing a well-tailored brown business suit with tan shirt and loosened black tie. At his feet was a duffel bag, tied to a leg of the bench.
"I must admit, it's extremely difficult not to keep up a barrage of questions," he said after a long period of silence.
Turning that shining platinum head toward him, Unicorn said over her shoulder, "Glad you have some self-control, Mr Shale."
"But this bird is unbelievable. It's way advanced ahead of anything in the air. The smoothness, for one thing. The silent flight. We've passed close to major airports without their radar reporting us. It can't be just superior tech, it's like Black Magick!"
"Mr Davenport of INTERCEPT vouched for you, sir," Ashley went on as if not having heard him. "So did Army Intelligence and the Mandate. They all said basically the same thing. You're highly skilled and competent but you just will not follow orders."
"Some of us were not born to run with the pack. Listen, under the circumstances, we better be on a first name basis. Ashley, Megan, is that all right?"
"Fine with me, Merrick," said the little blonde. "I also like being called Unicorn. Megan's war name is Science Nerd."
"It is NOT," came a crisp rebuttal, "Trom Girl is acceptable."
"Maybe that's something you're allowed to clear up," Shale went on. "I know they look Human, but they're all super-geniuses who over qualify for Nobel Prizes, but how can they claim an orphaned child and just raise her any way they want? Did you not have any relatives at all? Did you go to school?"
Was there the faintest hint of annoyance in Megan's subdued tones? or was she only mimicking that hint to make a point? Not even her closest friend could be sure. "I suggest we concentrate on the threat we now face."
"Fair enough," Shale replied. "You know, as somber as this time is with the loss of Monica, I wonder why I was never asked to join your KDF. Michael Hawk had no supernatural abilities, and neither did Shiro Mitsuru. In fact, Ashley, without the famous Unicorn Horn, you're a normal Human yourself. A superior, top-class specimen of one, of course."
The blonde smiled back at him. "You said yourself, you're not a team player. We'd be waiting for you to act on cue and you'd be off acting on your own impulse."
"Agreed," he said promptly. "I want to be the bride at every wedding and the corpse at every funeral."
Ashley caught Megan's eye and shrugged. She was finding Merrick likeable because, despite his incredible array of abilities and accomplishments, the man was not full of himself. He seemed to take himself for granted, as if anyone could be a world-class martial artist, biochemical engineer, multilinguist, spelunker, chess grandmaster and a dozen other demanding skillsets. His relaxed diffidence made him bearable.
"You could be an Associate Member," she suggested. "Called in for special situations."
From the co-pilot seat, Megan broke in. "Over Coventry, New Hampshire. We will arrive at your co-ordinates in three minutes eleven seconds."
"I feel bad for Betty and Lucia!" Shale snapped. "They're dealing with poor Monica's loss and I'm sure the police have been grilling them nonstop., I should be there with them. But we have to hit the trail while it's still at least warm."
"Your staff is all women, Merrick?"
"My personal aides are. They schedule appointments, take care of legal matters, keep an eye on upkeep. My LearJet flight crew is three men. My GP happens to be an old man. I hire the best I can get."
An amused chuckle escaped Unicorn's lips. "When I saw three beautiful women waiting on you, I thought you were keeping a harem."
"Ashley! Let's stay professional." The Trom Girl pulled up on the stick, slowing the CORBY. "Merrick , there were no signs of gralic residue from the attack in your office. We Trom can not process gralic energy but we recognize its presence. Some advanced technology was at work. Something forbidden."
"What we call Mad Science," added Unicorn. "You know, what Mad Scientists work on. Giant robots, death rays, matter transporters, that kind of thing. There's only three big shot Mad Scientists lurking in their labs their days. A few more minor ones."
"Karl Eldritch is dead, of course," Shale mused. "He was the absolute worst, him and his Lost Secrets of ancient Zhune. But I think someone here can point us to the current top candidate. In any case, Alexander Grim is closest of the three possibilities."
"Ready to touch down," Megan interrupted them. "We are at left rear of restaurant parking lot. Area alarms disabled in three, two, one... now."
Unfastening his restraint straps, Merrick Shale stood up. "Megan, as convenient as your Trom tech makes operations, I did say I wanted to use my own methods."
Again seeming to not hear, the Trom Girl said, "Bio-scanners show five adult Human males in close proximity. Seated. Air traces of Scotch whiskey, beer and cigarette smoke. I can render them unconscious with a low intensity neural shock beam."
"Don't go selectively deaf when you don't want to hear something," Shale said a bit sharply. "I'm going in my own way." He turned the wheel and unfastened the rear hatch. Air hissed out as the CORBY interior depressurized.
Even as Shale hopped down to the asphalt of the extensive parking lot, the right front hatch also swung open and Unicorn bounced down next to him. She was wearing the all-black field suit and for once had that gleaming mane tucked up inside her helmet where it would not give her away. "I'm going to be standing by. No arguments, Merrick, I wanna be your back-up."
An unbearably tense moment was broken when he said, "Fine. I did agree to work together." He sprinted through the gloomy parking lot toward the rear of the elegant two-story building. The Hofbrau had been constructed to resemble a dignified Swiss chalet, with rooms for lodgings upstairs that were seldom occupied. Decorative gardens and an outside dining gazebo added to the visual appeal. Hofbrau did sufficient business to stay afloat, although the New Hampshire police were certain its main purpose was to help launder money for the Alexander Grim empire. Shale had been here a few times for meetings with shady characters of the badlands. He raced across the empty lot to the rear door, with Ashley f a watching from beside the CORBY.
Standing next to the glass-paneled rear door, Merrick Shale unfastened one of his large round cuff links. He got a careful grip, pressed down on its top surface with a decisive click. A stainless steel ridge coated with diamond dust rotated swiftly. Shale slid that edge to effortlessly cut a circle in the glass just above the door knob. He turned the device off, popped the cut-out piece inward on tom the rubber mud mat on the floor, then reached inside to open the lock.
Watching from only yards away, Ashley was grinning as if she had just witnessed a magic trick. This was what she had been hoping to see. Shale had a reputation for using clever gimmicks which resembled ordinary objects. Pens which fired .15 bullets or tear gas capsules, key fobs which set off nearby explosives, a cell phone with a built-in blinding glare, shoe heels which pulled out to become the hilts of short stabbing knives.,. he wore a secret arsenal that a casual search overlooked.
Leaving the door open, Shale slid inside. Ashley followed after a few seconds, moving silently through a dim and fresh-smelling kitchen. Through swinging doors, she trailed him across a dining room with a bar alongside one wall. A yellow strip of light showed under a door. Shale dropped to one knee, took out what looked like a tube of Chapstick and pressed its nozzle up against the keyhole. At her count, he waited sixty seconds before straightening up and entering the room.
Merrick Shale emerged with a rather frail-seeming white-haired man over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Giving Ashley the most cursory nod to follow, he loped from the house as easily as not carrying a burden. The Unicorn raced behind, but her thoughts were agitated. That knock-out gas he had sprayed through the keyhole, that dissipated and became harmless after a full minute.. that was like the gas her team sometimes used. It was a variation on the formula for their anesthetic dart guns. He was using Trom tech! But how? The KDF had only managed to get limited access to that tech because they arranged for a Trom to be a student at Tel Shai. How had Shale done it? Man of mystery, the media called him, and Ashley reflected uneasily the name fit.
Running up to the CORBY, Shale placed his unconscious prisoner rather carefully into the rear compartment, nimbly leaped inside himself and slid the hatch shut behind them. "One for questioning," he told Sable. "Wheels up."
Staring back through the clear divider panel between that compartment and the cockpit, the KDF team leader said, "We're not lifting off until we know who he is."
That made Merrick Shale hesitate, as if he hadn't entertained the thought someone might not automatically follow his orders. "Quite right. Yes, of course. This is Dr Abraham Caldwell, he's a senior coordinator of Grim's covert projects. Not the industrial schemes or the military contracts. No, the not-so-good doctor here keeps track of Grim's more experimental and.. let's be honest.. Grim's more devilish projects."
"How do you know this, anyway?" Sable asked.
"I like to be well-informed. Alexander Grim is not the world-threatening menace that his father was, but he's certainly vile enough. Greedy and heartless, to be sure, without even a brief tinge of any sense of right or wrong. Of course, he's flourished in corporate capitalism."
"Naturally," agreed Unicorn. Instead of climbing up into the cockpit, she had joined Shale in the rear compartment. "Let's do a quick search. No guns, no knives, no syringes, no Tomahawk missiles...Here's his ID badge, it does match 'Abraham Feldstein,' keys and a comb. Cigarette lighter. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"His breathing is getting quicker and more shallow," Megan observed. "Your sedative will wear off within six minutes."
"But our guest will be suggestible and open to questioning at first," Shale said. "It's related to Scopolamine but happily with no nausea or vertigo. If I could have your silence, please?"
Propping the dazed and muttering prisoner up against a metal bank of cabinet drawers which took up the wall opposite the bench, Merrick Shale removed his heavy duty Rolex Oyster Perpetual and made an adjustment. The dial lit up with a rotating swirl pattern. As Feldstein's bleary eyes opened, that compelling pattern captured his full attention.
"Relax, relax," said Shale in a deep, soothing voice, "You are calm and relaxed, calm and relaxed...."
As Ashley and Megan watched breathlessly, Shale gave a textbook perfect display of hypnotism. He developed full trust and confidence in his subject and had him talking freely. It seemed that Alexander Grim had long abandoned the wild megalomaniacal projects that involved stealing nuclear devices or robbing bullion depositories. Grim Enterprises had settled into a comfortable, profitable system of mundane rackets and industrial espionage. Feldstein was just as glad. Business was reliable and secure; extorting governments was not.
"You will enjoy a deep, restful sleep," Shale droned on, "And when you awaken naturally, you will feel refreshed and happy, you will remember nothing of what you have said." As Feldstein slumped to one side and took a deep snoring breath, Merrick Shale sat up and straightened his cuffs.
Kneeling next to him, Unicorn stretched, rotating her arms up and behind her. "Outstanding! I felt I was getting hypnotized myself. Megs, he didn't make me cluck like a chicken, did he?"
"No." Just the single disapproving word.
"This wasn't a conclusive investigation," Shale told the two women. "But considering the urgency, I think we should move on to the next possible mastermind. Agreed?"
"Yes. I suggest we move on," the Trom Girl said. "Return him to the building and we will move on."
With Unicorn's assistance, Shale carried the blissfully dozing Feldstein to the rear door of the Hofbrau. He took a second to transfer a thick roll of hundred dollar bills into the man's pants pocket. Seeing the quizzical expression on Ashley's piquant little face, he explained, "Just to confuse matters. They'll be sidetracked figuring out who bribed him twenty thousand in cash."
Megan's voice suddenly crackled in the headphones of Ashley's helmet. "Enemy is active on your nine!"
As smoothly as if she had practiced nothing else all day every day, the Unicorn hopped around to place herself in front of Shale. Running around the corner of the building, a short stocky man whipped up a Ruger Blackhawk revolver and five white flashes detonated with short flat cracks. The soft cough of her air-powered pistol was completely lost in the echoes. The gunman involuntarily slapped at his neck and sagged to the cold asphalt as if weary beyond belief.
Between the layers of Trom armor under her field suit and her tautly muscled body, Ashley had felt the gunfire as no more than light taps. Even the hit which had glanced off her helmet had barely made her head twitch. She wheeled from side to side, saw no one else approaching, and turned to stare down in horror at where Merrick Shale was lying with a garish scarlet blotch on his white shirt.
"Man down..." she began but was brushed aside as Megan Salenger came up at a full sprint and took over. Ashley was glad to let her partner step in. She realized the Trom Girl knew as much about Human anatomy and medical trauma as any ER doctor and had unbreakable nerves under pressure. Peering over her friend's shoulder, Unicorn saw that vivid red blood was seeping from below the right rib cage.
Megan had taken a quick reading on her Link, which she quickly returned to her belt. "Merrick, listen closely. A bullet is lodged in the abdominal muscle. There is no sign of your intestines being perforated or any organ such as kidney or liver being harmed. There is some internal bleeding from veins. Ashley, call 911 for an ambulance but volunteer no unnecessary information."
"I can block the pain," Shale said in a low strained voice. "My Yogi taught me. I'm watching this from a distance."
"Good. Whatever helps. I am not licensed medical personnel but I predict you will be fine with prompt treatment. Ashley, what is their ETA?"
"They said about six minutes. They're coming from downtown."
"That should work well. Merrick, I'm applying an external compress. You do not seem to be going into shock." The Trom Girl tilted her head to regard him more thoughtfully. "You act as if you've been shot before."
"Not my first rodeo," he managed. "Ouch. Old Ram exaggerated when he said pain was just an illusion. Say, Unicorn, that was awful nice to you to take those bullets for me."
"Aw, well, you know, I'm wearing a bullet-proof vest," she laughed. "Times like these makes the itchiness worth it. Megs and I are gonna have to get out of here just as the ambulance pulls up. You understand."
"Oh, of course. You KDF operate in the shadows. The KDF is never officially on the scene. I get it."
"But I'll come visit in the morning with flowers and candy," she went on. "No, come to think of it, your all-girl crew will be there holding your hand and sobbing anyway."
"You are both more than welcome to come see me. Listen! There's the siren. Better take off!"
"Sorry, sorry, hope we can work together again," Ashley said as she followed Megan at a run. Just as the ambulance headlights showed in the driveway, the CORBY launched straight upward and was gone from sight. Merrick Shale laughed out at the irony of it all, but the sharp pain in his side stopped him.swt
Inside the cockpit of the stealthcopter, Unicorn was still fastening her restraint straps. "Well, THAT was interesting! At least we got to meet the world's most famous secret agent. What's your honest reaction, Megan?"
"I have to say he is a remarkably gifted and disciplined individual," the Trom Girl replied. "You see the EMTs are examining him now, they're bringing out a stretcher. We can head back to base."
Unicorn reached over to touch her friend's arm. "You know, all on his own, he's working on a Tel Shai level. I saw those innocent-looking gizmos up close, they're too good to be true. I wonder. The guy is a certified genius in two dozen highly demanding areas. Remind you of anyone?"
In the subdued back glow of the control panels, Megan Salenger could be seen to let her stoical poker face drop for an instant. "What are you implying?"
"I'm thinking maybe you were not the only one of your kind. Maybe he was raised the same way you were, hon. He might be your equivalent Trom Boy!"
2/3/2025
no subject
Date: 2025-02-03 10:54 am (UTC)There's a strange kind of wistful feeling setting a story back in 2010. It's like leafing through a college yearbook. Today, Megan Salenger has been dead for a few years and Ashley has gone through s divorce that humbled her considerably. But in this story, they are still young and supremely confident they can save the world. It's a silly illusion, of course. In a few minutes, I could rewrite the canon so that Megan is fine and Ashley blissfully married but tampering with "History" like that never feels genuine.
And of course, this whole Midnight War saga is a way for me to relive and digest all the pulp novels, radio and TV shows and movies, Golden and Silver Age comics etc that imprinted on me from age 11 to 16. It's been immense fun. Merrick Shale here is a tribute/homage/spoof of one of my favorite movie spies of the 1960s.