"Empires In the Earth"
May. 14th, 2022 09:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Empires In the Earth"
(2/24-2/28/2009)
I.
The wind was vicious. Jeremy Bane stepped out into the darkness in front of the yellow brick building where his office was located, felt the wind chill bite into him and took a deep breath. His body adjusted. Thirty years on a Tagra tea diet and Kumundu training had left him able to adapt to extremes of temperature quickly. There were limits, of course. For the moment he could stand outside in the bitter February weather and hardly notice it, but prolonged exposure would eventually harm him. He was about to turn right and go for lunch at the Five Guys the next block over when the blue-top taxi stopped right in front of him. A young man hopped out, threw the driver some money and slammed the door.
It would take an effort not to recognize Johnny Packard. Still in his twenties, the Brimstone Kid stood not more than five feet seven and weighed less than a wiry one hundred and sixty pounds. He was wearing cowboy boots, black jeans and a heavy coat with a fur collar. As he stood up, Johnny tugged a black Stetson with a red band down over his bright red hair and swung around. The wry crooked grin ran across his pug face. "Hey! Dire Wolf! Glad I caught you."
Bane did not particularly return the warmth. Johnny Packard seemed to bring trouble with him wherever he went. He had never officially joined the new KDF, although he had hung out with the team and helped on a few cases. There had even been a reported romance with Unicorn that fizzled out. But the Kid was too much a free spirit, too reckless and self-willed to ever be a good team player. Bane steped forward and said, "Hi, Johnny. Last I heard, you were out in Montana. Something to do with protecting wild horses."
"Keeping them from being ground into dog food, that's the gospel truth. Ain't why I'm here though. Mind if we wander into your office to do some talkin'?"
"Sure. Let's get out of the wind." Bane turned and walked with the Kid through the double glass doors which slid open automatically to admit them. They went past the EMERGENCY ONE walk-in clinic, down the short hall made by a wall and the side of the staircase going up. Here was a plain wooden door with a brass plaque DIRE WOLF AGENCY. Bane unlocked the door to reveal a tiny waiting room with two chairs and a coffee table littered with old magazines
"Not much of an office," observed Johnny.
"Wise guy." Bane opened the inner door and led the Kid into the real office, gesturing for him to take a seat. Johnny Packard pulled a leatherbound chair closer to the desk and wriggled out of his heavy coat. Underneath was a black work shirt and open vest. Strapped in an X across his chest were two gunbelts and he unbuckled them now to hang them over the back of the chair as Bane watched.
Taking off his Stetson, Johnny Packard brushed that coarse red hair with his fingers. "Now this is a proper office, suh. You solved a lot of murders here?"
"Lots. Which brings us to why you're here, John."
"Sure enough. Let me tell my story, Jeremy. Out by the border to Idaho is a ranch called Three Crosses, named after its brand. It got closed down years ago, maybe fifteen- maybe twenty years ago. Owner had tax problems. Most of the buildings are still standing, they need work but farm buildings always need work. I was thinking of taking it over. This past winter, I been squatting out there. I'm used to no electricity or running water, that's how I growed up."
Thinking of the Kid's strange origin, Bane could see why he would be happy roughing it, but he said nothing.
"Here's where it gets interesting. Maybe two- three weeks ago, I started seeing these weird varmints on the property at night. I'd have a pleasant bonfire going by the front porch and spot these critters skulking around. They're short. Not taller'n me. Mostly nekkid exept for a loincloth like an Apache'd wear. Skin was pale yellow, like a lemon. I'd chase 'em away and they'd come back the next day just a-staring at me from a distance. But I didn't want to shoot one or two because that might lead to a feud."
"True," Bane agreed. "Hair color? Eye color? Features?"
"Hell, they had flat faces like they got smacked with a frying pan. No hair I could see. Big white staring eyes. Gives me the willies right now thinking about them." Johnny exhaled sharply. "Then I rode my Harley to the nearest town for some supplies. Forty miles by the way, there and back. When I got home,I couldn't spot the bunkhouse nor the barn. They wasn't there! There was just big round holes in the ground."
II.
"Well, now you DO have my interest," said Bane. "Not ordinary sinkholes?"
"What, in that frozen rocky soil? Nah, tain't sinkholes. There was three of them, one right under each building and none anywhere else. That's not nature. That's human doing, somehow someone has a way to make buildings disappear underground. I figured it's right up your line of work, Jeremy."
"Yes. I want to look into this. Did you see any of those creatures around?"
"Nope. I stayed there another day, just itchin' to get my hands on one but no such luck. So I drove all the way to Boise and got a seat on a plane. Here I am."
The Dire Wolf got to his feet and started pacing without realizing it. His enhanced metabolism made him restless at the best of times and now he found it impossible to sit still. "I can't think of any beings in the Midnight War who match the description of what you saw. Nothing fits that look. Something new..." Bane swung around to face Johnny. "I want to investigate as soon as possible. Where are you staying?"
"Huh? I ain't staying anywhere. I came right here from the airport," said the Kid as he rose from his chair.
Bane picked up the cordless phone from its charger and hit a number. "Hello? Megan? Glad you're there. This is Jeremy. Is the CORBY available? You're sure Sable has no plans for its use? Okay. Yes, I think something interesting is underway and I want to borrow it. Right. I'll be over in a little while."
Johnny shrugged. "I thought them CORBYs belonged to you. You don't need permission to use one."
"Not anymore. I stepped down as KDF chairman, Sable is in charge now. Legally, I own the building and its contents but a condition of the lease is that the team has control over all the facilities. You mind a walk in that weather or you want a taxi?"
"Don't make no never mind to me," Johnny said. He began buckling the gunbelts with their heavy Colt .45s across his chest so the coat would hide them. "I do wanna thank you for taking this case on. Am I your client now? Do I gotta pay you?"
"Heh. No, we're acting as friends helping each other out." Bane got a long cloth coat from the closet, shrugged it on and got thin leather gloves from a pocket. "I'm glad you came here. I have a feeling something big is behind those farm buildings sinking out of sight." He led the way from the office, turning off the lights and clickin the door shut behind them. They stepped out into a winter afternoon where the wind howled between the buildings and seemed to actively chase people. Getting to the 38th and Lexington was not a long walk, but they certainly did not dawdle. As they approached the KDF building, Bane said, "You did good work with the team, Johnny. Sable gave you high marks for quick thinking under pressure and adapting to high stress situations."
The Brimstone Kid snorted. "And she flunked me on obeying orders, following protocol and proper use of equipment. Hell, I was a cowboy in my first life- I still AM a cowboy even in this recreated body. I wasn't born to follow."
She was also worried about that Darthan coin you wear in your hatband, thought Bane. We all were. It was like waiting for a timebomb to go off. As he stepped up to the front door with its plaque KENNETH DRED FOUNDATION, he heard locks unfasten from within and a woman's voice said, "Come right in." They entered the tiny foyer with its bench and its framed painting of Kenneth Dred himself. For twenty seconds, they waited, knowing they were being scanned by devices more advanced than any MRI but not even feeling a tingle, then the inner door opened.
At twenty-nine, Megan Salenger had not changed much since Bane had first met her as a teenager. She was still slim and fit, five foot three, with a shock of tousled black hair over an inquisitive face with large dark eyes and a pointed nose. At the moment, she was wearing a loose white jumpsuit with oil stains and she was wiping her hands on a rag. "Hello, captain. Johnny." She stood aside to admit them.
"Good to see you, Megan," said Bane as he hung his coat on one of a row of hooks. "I missed the last two pizza nights because I was on cases. How's everyone?"
She unzipped the jumpsuit and kicked out of it. Underneath, she wore dark slacks and a long-sleeved tan shirt with two breast pockets. "Everyone is well. The Midnight War seems to be in a lull at the moment. I suspect your arrival here means that will change."
Bane glanced through the open door of the reception room. "Where is everyone?"
"Gamulkor. Sort sort of Dwarf trouble, Sable said it would prove to be just too much touchiness and wounded pride, but she took the team. This is my day off, so I was cleaning the power source in the basement. Carbon deposits," she added gravely.
"Good thing Trom Girl is here," Bane said. "Are you sure Sable won't be needing the CORBY?"
"Absolutely. Of course, there is always the second model stored on Hawk Island. It would need forty minutes for a rundown and to warm up, but it is on standby." She spun and headed for the wide staircase in the middle of the front hall. "I myself will be ready in three minutes," came her voice as she trotted eagerly up the stairs.
Bane allowed himself a faint smile. He had not said anything about Megan joining them, but he would be glad to have her along. To the Kid, he said, "I'm going to the hangar to change into my field suit. You want to grab something to eat, the kitchen is still where it always was."
"Right kind of you," said Johnny. "All I had was a crummy bag of salted peanuts on the plane. I'll join you two in a mite." The Kid strode quickly toward the back of the hall and disappeared into the kitchen.
Taking the elevator to the ninth floor, Bane was pleased to have something interesting to investigate. Two weeks without a case, other than following someone who turned out to be not a Mandate spy but just a voyeur. The Dire Wolf was not made for inaction. At the ninth floor, he got out and hopped up short steps and through a door into the hangar. This had originally been the roof until he ordered it walled over. The CORBY sat on its restraining chocks, the black sharklike body and dark windscreen as ominous as ever and he felt a thrill at its presence.
A row of lockers stood along one wall, and his own was still there. Moving with the quickness of long hours of practice, Bane stripped down to the silk-thin Trom armor which left only his head and hands unprotected. The matched silver daggers were already sheathed to his forearms. Then came the snug pants, the jersey and the heavy boots, all black. He pulled on the waist-length field jacket with its own inner layer of armor and stowed away the various tools and gadgets from a shelf in the locker into the correct pockets.
Finally, he tugged the helmet over his head, lowered the visor and thumbed its power source on. The inside heads-up display lit with various readouts and tracking squares, and the light amplifiers kicked in. He retracted the visor. His other field suit was concealed back in his office at 44th and 3rd Avenue but it was good to make sure this duplicate suit was in proper order. Bane hung his street clothes in the locker just as Megan Salenger rushed into the hangar.
The Trom Girl had changed into her own version of the field suit, with even more devices in pouches and slits, and a round metal disc fastened above her shoulder blades. She placed her helmet on and climbed into the cabin of the CORBY, saying in a breathless tone, "I just finished calibrating everything last night. Systems are go." Soft pastel lights flicked on inside as she powered up the craft. "Captain, would you inspect the rear air vanes? See that the flow is even."
Bane went to the tail. The CORBY had no rear rotor, just two vertical vanes that used high-pressure air to help control flight. He placed his hand over each vent as air was expelled. "Looks good, Megan."
"We can have wheels-up in four minutes," she replied through the communication system in their helmets. "All indicators are green."
Johnny Packard walked into the hangar. "How we looking there, boss?"
"Climb aboard," Bane answered as he popped the co-pilot hatch and swung up to strap himself in. The Kid got in the back compartment and fastened himself to the padded bench. Overhead, the rotors began to turn. The CORBY rose up to waist level and the landing gear retracted.
Holding the stick, Megan said, "Ready for travel crystal."
"Not this time," Bane answered. "I want to take off from the hangar just to see how it goes. We should be out of sight before anyone can report us. Windscreen set to light amplifiers?"
"Yes. Full radius radar diverters on. Lifting off now." The huge roof panel slid open and the CORBY rose up with unearthly silence. Someone standing on the street might have heard what sounded like a breeze but nothing more. The Trom systems absorbed radar impulses with such efficiency that the craft might show up as a fleeting blip for a second, if that. Megan brought the CORBY straight up, rising well above the usual Manhattan traffic lanes.
"Nearest aircraft to us is a TV news helicopter, three miles south and heading away," Trom Girl said. Despite her attempts to keep emotion from her voice, there was a touch of smugness. "Waiting for course."
"Yellow River, Montana," called out the Kid from the back. "Bout fifty, sixty miles from the Idaho border."
"Got it," said Trom Girl, accelerating forward to cruising speed. "We can hit Mach-1 once we clear the metropolian area."
"Use your own judgement," Bane told her, watching the lights of New Jersey already being left behind.
In the back compartment, Johnny Packard shook his head. He remembered the first time he had seen a locomotive thunder past. At the time, he was convinced there would never be anything faster.
III.
Nearing their destination, Megan throttled down the Trom engines to cruising speed and re-engaged the rotors. The CORBY stopped acting like a jet and more like a helicopter again. Soaring high over miles of snow, the three of them gazed down at the landscape.
"Looks like it's been a rough winter," Bane ventured.
"Yep. Montana." In the back compartment, the Brimstone Kid was leaning forward between the two seats to see the landscape. "There you go. Them three circles, that's all that's left."
Trom Girl set the copter to hover and started taking readings. "Infra-red is interesting. I'm using our depth scanners." She was silent for so long that Bane and the Kid exchanged worried glances. Finally, she said, "I have to conclude there are underground structures beneath this area. I am getting images of many chambers linked by miles of tunnels. Stone construction. Five hundred and twenty-three human-sized life forms, with additional larger living beings further down."
"What the haill? You are telling me there's a CITY beneath my property?"
Megan turned her calm dark eyes on him. "It's interesting."
"What sort of temperatures are you getting?" asked Bane.
"Sixty-four on your Fahrenheit scale. Colder away from the main complex."
"Not Danarmyl, then. Could be Trolls, but they don't work in stone. This is something of a puzzle." Bane scowled and said, "Take us down, Megan."
The Trom Girl lowered the CORBY to the frozen ground without the slightest jarring. As the rotors slowed and she started powering systems down, she said, "I am putting the layout of the underground city up on the windscreen, if you wish to memorize it."
Bane and the Kid saw a bewildering maze of rectangular chambers with narrow tunnels connecting them seemingly at random. There was one chamber much larger than the rest, with several tunnels entering it from different directions, and this was located almost directly beneath where the surface buildings had stood.
"Looks like a right easy place to get lost," Johnny said. "I mean, good and lost."
"I have the layout memorized," Megan said casually as she unbuckled her restraints and opened the hatch to her right. She stepped down lightly onto the snow-covered ground and waited for them.
As he closed the rear hatch behind him, Johnny Packard glanced toward the lowering sun in the west. "Be getting dark soon," he said. "If there's trouble, I'll be capable."
Bane did not comment. He knew what sundown meant with the Brimstone Kid. Turning to Megan, he said, "I bet you've picked an entry point, haven't you?"
"Yes," she answered simply and started walking toward an outcropping of loose shale in the distance. Trom Girl knelt and pointed out what looked like an animal burrow. "This is for ventilation. There are several of these nearby."
The Dire Wolf walked a short distance away and crouched next to another outcropping which stuck up out of the ground at an angle. "This doesn't look right somehow." He started poking around, knocking loose rocks aside. One exposed area had a thin crack running across it. He got his fingers under a raised section and started to stand up, and a thin layer began to rise from the rock like a trapdoor. Megan and Johnny rushed over to help, piling up rocks to prop the trap open. An opening four feet across led down into the earth.
"Well, I'll be hanged," said Johnny. "Although I say it who shouldn't joke about hanging. Looks like an invitation, don't it?"
Bane lowered his visor and cut in the light amplifiers, and Megan did the same. Johnny Packard touched the red band around his bleack Stetson and grinned wickedly. Gloom fell over the high plains, and it got dark within minutes. The rim of the sun ducked behind a peak and the grey overcast sky lowered. Bane climbed down into the opening and slid out of view, and the other two followed in silence.
IV.
Stone steps led down to the gentle slope that extended for miles. As they walked, Bane and Megan could see clearly through their visors that they were in a tunnel constructed of small stone blocks fitted neatly together without mortar. The surface beneath their boots was cold and slick with ice. Following them, Johnny did not seem at a loss. With nightfall, his attitude and bearing had changed. He moved more decisively, and he stood straighter. Bane had been expecting this. They walked for what seemed like hours before the tunnel began to widen. Along the sides of the tunnels, carved decorative symbols began to appear. The outlines of strange animals pierced by weapons were carved at intervals. Ahead, they saw a dim green light.
Bane put his foot down and wheeled back the way he had come with lightning reactions, but even he was too late. They had crossed a pivot and a twenty-foot section of the tunnel floor rotated beneath their feet. All three fell headlong down twenty feet into a pit and the floor section closed over them. From long experience, the KDF members automatically loosened up as they hit, rolled to absorb the impact and were back up on their feet. Even in the darkness, their helmets had infra-red projectors in the crest that let them see clearly. They were in a circular pit with wall fifteen feet high, topped by the floor of the tunnel above them. A bizarre crowd starED down at them as if they were in an arena.
Sickly green light was coming from somewhere, perhaps behind the stone panels of the walls, enough to make visible the creatures who crowded each other to get a look at the intruders. These were the beings Johnny Packard had caught glimpses of late at night on the surface. They were small and scrawny, with long thin arms and legs. Naked except for loincloths, they had unhealthy-looking lemon-colored skin and round staring eyes in hairless heads. And although they jostled and shoved each other for a look, they were silent as mutes.
"I don't recognize these beings," Megan said with remarkable calm considering the circumstances. "Captain?"
"They're new to me," admitted Bane. "I have to say, they don't make a good first impression."
Both of them gave a start when Johnny Packard spoke. There was a hollow, echoing effect in his voice that had not been there before, "Them critters don't grow on you with time, either."
The silent beings stepped aside as a carved wooden throne was carried over and placed by the rim overlooking the pit. A man with milk-white skin and long hair like fine cotton stepped up and seated himself on that throne. He was very tall and so thin he looked like a victim of starvation, with sunken cheeks and a snub of a nose. He was wearing a flamboyant burgundy-colored silk shirt and slapped an ebony wand into the palm of his free hand as a habit. The strange man leaned over to study them.
"Pascal!" said Bane. "Well, of all people..!"
"Ah, the Dire Wolf, is it not? How pleasant to see you again," called down the albino with a French accent.
Bane said to his teammates, "That guy is Enrique Pascal. Albino, as you can tell. He's a Belgian spelunker famous among people who are into that stuff. The Human Mole, he was called, he came back alive from caves that were considered death traps. Unfortunately, he was also a jewel thief. He made a practice of robbing the very wealthy."
The albino laughed heartily. "Ah, my friend. You do not mention it was you who caught me, that unfortunate night in Geneva, and turned me over to the police. You broke my nose with that punch, Dire Wolf! It still does not function well."
"I thought you were in prison," Bane said. "You got ten to fifteen years, if I remember right."
"My friends here helped liberate me. They are expert at tunneling. The Swiss authorities still are scratching their thick heads over the hole in the floor of their prison. I did not expect to meet you again so soon, Bane, but just as well. You are on my list for retribution, of course, and now is as good a time as any."
Johnny muttered, "I can put a couple ounces of lead between his eyes from here, Jeremy."
"Wait. Let's find out what's going on first." In a louder tone, Bane called up, "You didn't build this city. What is this place? How did you find it?"
The gaunt albino settled back on his throne. "Ah, a deeper question than you realize. There are subterranean cities like these in a dozen sites around the world. In Yemen. In Laos. In Chile. The first one I found was beneath the Alps, and I discovered it quite by accident. They were built ages ago by a race that seems to have vanished. I call them the Huromi, the 'forgotten ones.' Sorcerors and Alchemists of great ability. Quite an empire they established thousands of years ago, yet all that is left are their buildings deep beneath the surface. This one here, in the Montana region of your United States, is the newest I have uncovered."
Bane yelled up, "And who are these little friends of yours? They can't be Human."
"My Mole-men. More loyal subjects no emperor ever had. They are not truly alive, in the sense you and I are. My Mole-men are constructs of false-flesh, with limited intelligence. When fed, they are active and carry out their duties. If not given food for a while, they slump into a suspended state. I found them in every one of the lost cities, lying senseless and just waiting for a new ruler to revive them and give them purpose." Pascal seemed to find this amusing. "There are empires in the earth you fools do not dream exist. I found an empire filled with willing subjects. How lucky am I?"
"You owe me for them buildings you sunk," the Kid called up. "There was no call to do that."
"Really," laughed Pascal. "I don't think you realize your situation. These tunnels can only be opened from the inside by one who knows their secret. You are a mile below the surface, cut off by tons of stone and dirt from the world you know. You are now my subjects as much as are my Mole-men. You, the young man, with the Wild West costume... I don't know you. Some work will be found for you. The girl with the slim figure and gamin face... you are appealing. It is time for the Emperor of the Underworld to begin collecting a harem."
"What?" said Megan. "I don't THINK so."
"And I'm sure you have plans for me that involve a painful death," Bane said. "But your dreams are going nowhere. Megan, bring him down here."
As soon as he spoke, Trom Girl reacted. She activated the gravity shield disc on her back and dove upward, seizing Pascal under the arms, swinging around and carrying him back to where her teammates stood. She dropped him none too gently from six feet up and alighted herself on her toes. "That's for saying I belong in a harem," she said.
Scrambling to his feet, Pascal looked wildly around. Megan had transported him down so quickly and unexpectedly that he was confused. Before he could figure the situation out, he felt steely fingers tighten in the front of his robe and yank him forward. Pascal stared into cold grey eyes from inches away.
"Now we are going to negotiate," Bane told him. "Stop wriggling, I'll break your nose again."
"You don't understand!" Pascal shrieked, trying desperately to get loose. "The White Mole!"
Bane followed the albino's line of sight and spotted a barred gate big enough for an elephant to get through. Even as he found it, the gate started to be winched up. Standing on top of the wall, two of the yellow serfs turned the crank that drew the gate up. A bulk the size of a bison reared up and lumbered out into the arena.
"Well, you're cute," the Dire Wolf said to his captive. "You were going to feed us to that thing?"
The creature may have been a mole, although six feet at the shoulder and covered with white dense fur, but it was different from any biologists knew. The legs were under its body, not out to the sides, and it walked like a qudraped. The flat front paws ended in long blunt talons but it also had two sharp canines alongside its wide incisors. Blinking in the light, the White Mole sniffed the air and started thumping toward the three surface people. Pascal yelped in panic.
"Everyone just calm the hell down," laughed Johnny Packard. "I got this covered." Reaching inside his coat, he drew out his Peacemakers. The gun gleamed with a red sheen as if they had been sitting in a fire. The Kid blasted two shots, much louder and deeper than any normal revolver should sound, and the flash from the barrels was bright as lightning. Two huge holes ripped open in the White Mole's head, one between the tiny eyes and one higher up. The beast reared up on his hind legs and fell over with a crash.
Twirling his six-guns, the Brimstone Kid chuckled. "Too bad my hoss didn't Preincarnate with me. I'd like to have him here. Well, Jeremy, back to what we were doing...."
Pascal managed to free an arm. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave a piercing, prolonged whistle. Hundreds of the Mole-men scrambled over the sides of the retaining wall, falling over each other and getting up again as they rushed to rescue their king.
V.
Seeing that wave of lemon-colored flesh pouring toward them, Bane flung Pascal roughly to the ground and drew two dazzler grenades from his field jacket. He flung them directly at the oncoming horde and slammed the visor of his helmet shut. Two blasts detonated, deafening and blinding. The dazzlers produced no shrapnel. They were designed to disorient, not harm, and against creatures who lived their lives in dim murky depths, the magnesium flare was like the end of the world. Most of them stumbled aimlessly or fell to their knees but there were still dozens who had been looking down or had their eyes shut at the instant of detonation and they kept coming. Johnny Packard went down under a pile of semi-living creatures who tackled him. His hat flew to one side, the pistols were yanked from his grip and he was lifted up into the air with three Mole-men for each arm or leg.
"Megan! Take off! Come back for us!" Bane snapped as the creatures reached him. It was with great difficulty he did not fight back, but he had made his decision. With his fists and feet, he could kill many of the creatures. If he drew the silver daggers, he could slice through a dozen of them, but sheer numbers would bring him down in the end. He clamped his jaws together in rage as the weird serfs swarmed over him. They couldn't do real harm, he figured, with his Trom armor and his helmet locked in place. And in fact, he barely felt their untrained weak blows.
Many of the Mole-men helped Enrique Pascal to his feet, straightening his robes and fussing over him. He hardly seemed to notice. The pure white skin was flushed pink in his anger and his chest was heaving. "Bring ropes. Tie them tightly. Take them to my chamber." The albino glared around. "Where is the girl?"
"On her way to the surface," Bane said. "She'll be back with the State Police. Hope your boys can swallow a lot of bullets, those troopers play rough."
Pascal shoved his fawning subjects back. "Idiots! Get off me. All of you, find that girl. Bring her to me." He settled down as some of the Mole-men brought thin ropes and began tying Bane's wrists behind him, then binding his ankles together. They did the same for Johnny, and then the creatures carried their prisoners overhead as they marched to where ladders were being lowered into the arena from above.
Bane saw the Kid had lost his ominous aura, he seemed to have shrunk down to more Human levels. It was the hat, of course. Inside the red Navajo beaded band was tucked the Darthan coin that was both Johnny's curse and strength. The redhead looked over and called out, "I wasn't exactly planning on this development."
"We're not done yet," Bane said. "I want Pascal to start spilling his plans." The two prisoners were hauled up to the retaining wall and carried down long corridors which twisted and seemed to double back on themselves. Finally, they were brought through high bronze doors into a luxurious chamber and dumped unceremoniously on marble flooring. Bane got up to seated position and saw piles of cushions, low tables with plates of candy and fruit, even a hookah filled with red wine. The sickly green light came from the ceiling, and he decided it was some luminous alchemical solution on the stones. By one wall was a shelf with a dozen books.
When he had first designed the KDF field suits years earlier, Bane had tried to incorporate useful gimmicks. Inside the stiff cuffs were a few tiny lockpick implements that could be drawn out with the hands cuffed. In the top of each boot was a ridge which was actually the raised handle of an old-fashioned razor blade. The Dire Wolf tugged one out and began slicing patiently away. He couldn't see what he was doing, but long hours of practice helped. A few nicks were going to be inevitable.
"Damn," Johnny said. "Beats my apartment every which way."
As Pascal entered, Bane said, "I see the one thing you're missing here."
"And what would that be, if you don't mind?" the albino muttered.
"Conversation. Talking to people. Your obedient Mole-men are great for chores, but have any of them read Proust? Can you argue with them about Napoleon's strategy in Russia or compare wines? No. Obviously not. You might as well be marooned on an island with nothing living in sight."
The albino sniffed. "That did not take much perception. I have been too busy mapping my empire and taming the White Moles for any free time. But your little friend reminds me that a harem is a fine idea. Every emperor needs female company. I shall have my Mole-men go up to the surface at night and bring me back a few women to choose from."
"Come on," Bane said. "It's more than that. I chased you through Switzerland for a week, I got to know you. You want praise. You want fame. Being lord of a secret empire is being anonymous, Pascal."
The albino lord of the underworld pulled over a stool and sat facing his prisoners. "Ah, it is too bad we must be enemies. I always thought police and criminals have more in common with each other than they do with the herd of stupid civilians. We play the same game, just on opposing sides."
"Sometimes I feel that way," Bane agreed. "But then I think of the victims. My duty as a Tel Shai knight is to protect them from predators like you."
"I know, I know. I could use a lieutenant like you. Someone with nerve and quick thinking. As you can see, I am conspicuous. Nature has marked me without pigment, one reason I became a spelunker. Underground life seemed to suit me. But it is difficult for me to move among people without being noticed. Someone with so-called normal coloring would be a big help to me in my work."
"Hey, I ain't got no job prospects," said the Kid. "Mebbe I could be your messenger."
"As if I could trust you either. No, it's too bad but your bodies will go to nourish the mushroom fields. I must get back to my work."
"Like what?" Bane asked. "Searching for one more of these lost cities? What's the point? Where will it get you?"
Pascal seemed to consider. "All right. Maybe your opinion will help clarify my thoughts. I expect surface civilization to collapse soon. It is a house of cards in the wind. Governments will fall, people will prey on each other for mere survival. Except down here. No one knows about the empires in the earth. I will bring a hundred fertile young women down here and impregnate them one by one. Why not? I am thirty-four and virile. The babies will raised by my Mole-men and by the time I am an old man, they will begin mating with each other. All that will remain will be to select an heir.. Pascal the Second, Lord of the Secret Cities. Then he will appoint one of his children to rule over the cities beneath Peru or Australia. My dynasty will reign for ages."
"You don't plan on starting a war between America and China, for example? Or stirring up race riots, just to move the apocalypse faster?"
"Hardly necessary. Mankind needs no help destroying itself," Pascal sniffed.
"There you go. That's all I needed to know." The Dire Wolf lunged up on toes and fingertips, and plunged at Pascal like a fencer striking. A straight forefist to the stomach drove the air from the albino's lungs with a rush, and a savage uppercut straightened him up again. The albino sagged senseless, and Bane caught him by the robe to lower him to the floor.
As he pulled a silver dagger to cut Johnny free, Bane said, "You're not the same without that talisman."
"Says you. Magic coin or not, I'm still a fast draw and a tough slugger." Getting free, he unbuckled his gunbelts and refastened them low on his hips. "Of course, having my irons would be a help..."
A panel opened in the wall and Megan Salenger stepped cautiously through. She took a second to digest the scene. "Oh. I thought I was here to rescue you two, but evidently it's not necessary."
VI.
"Good to see you," Bane said. "What's the situation out there?" He searched Pascal for weapons and found nothing. Using the cords, he had just cut through, the Dire Wolf bound the albino tightly and held out a hand to the Kid. "Let me use that kerchief you're wearing. This guy needs a gag."
"It ain't none too clean," Johnny said but handed it over.
"Those Mole-men are searching for me," Megan reported. "But they have low levels of intelligence and long response time. You can walk right behind one and he never suspects. I remembered the layout of this city, so I came here to Pascal's private chambers." She looked around and wrinkled her nose. "Where his harem was going to start, I suppose."
"Get over that crack about putting you in a harem," Bane suggested. "We need to get back to the surface with our prisoner. Can you lead us so we won't be caught?"
Trom Girl nodded. "There's a high probability of success. Follow me." She went back through the concealed panel and began walking through what seemed like miles of narrow passageways. At intervals, they had to step out into wider chambers and waited until no Mole-men were in sight. Once, one of the silent creatures was standing with his back to them, right in the way. Bane lowered Pascal to the ground, seized the Mole-man from behind in a sleeper hold and was surprised to hear the neck snap.
"I didn't expect that," he whispered. "These guys are fragile." They left the body concealed in a passageway. Now they were definitely heading at an upward angle. The Dire Wolf felt Pascal stir and start to wiggle. They paused while he took a dart from a clip and injected the mastermind with anesthetic, then hoisted him over one shoulder again.
The Mole-men were spotted less and less frequently as they neared the surface. After still more trudging, Johnny Packard hissed. "My hat! I can sense it. Over there." He started toward an open doorway on the other side of the tunnel. Bane reached to grab his arm, but the Kid shoved his hand away. "I ain't going back without that thing. Go on if you want."
Scowling, Bane lowered the sleeping prisoner to the ground and started after the resurrected cowboy. Before he crossed the passage, there was the sound of a scuffle, a few blows struck, and Johnny was already heading back toward them. He was brushing off the black Stetson and straightening its brim. "One of them fool varmints was wearing it! He looked mighty stupid." Lowering the hat on his head, Johnny's eyes suddenly glinted and he seemed taller. He was the Brimstone Kid again in actuality as well as name. Megan drew back a little from him.
The rest of the trek up to the surface seemed uneventful. Megan led them to where a tunnel came to a dead end with five steps leading up to a panel in the stone ceiling. "This is where we came in," she said.
"Listen," Bane interrupted. From behind them, the rumble of hundreds of feet sounded, growing closer. "Looks like Pascal's friends are on our trail." Megan slammed the trap door open and glided up through it. Dawn showed in the east. Johnny followed, reaching down to help haul Pascal to the surface. Bane climbed up through the opening. "Here they come," he said. "You two, get as far away as you can."
The Dire Wolf tugged a metal egg from the back of his field jacket, twisted its cap and tossed it down the shaft, then whirled and raced away at top speed. Dirt spewed up through the open trap door in a geyser and they felt the shock wave beneath their feet. Still too close, Bane lost his footing but got up again at once. The three of them stared. A long narrow strip of ground had sunk seven inches deeper,leaving a trench, and dust was still settling.
"That ought to seal the entrance," Bane said. He tugged off his helmet and wiped sweat from his face with the back of a hand. "We'll be gone from here in a minute and those Mole-men don't come up in daylight."
"Hoo-whee. I forgot how much fun you folks can be," said Johnny Packard. With the dawn, he had dwindled to normalcy again. "Maybe you should call me when you need an extra hand."
"It's a deal," Bane said. He examined Pascal, who was breathing noisily and twitching. "This guy will be waking up soon. Back to prison for him."
"Ordinary prison?" asked Megan. "What about his underground empire? What about all those Mole-men down there?"
Bane shrugged. "He was convicted of grand larceny, breaking and entry, and assault. He has years left to serve. I'll turn him over to the Swiss authorities with some story about running into him and taking him in. That's true enough, after all." Bane glanced back at the trench sunk into the ground. "As for his empires in the earth and his Mole-men and his plans for a dynasty... well, that's not something a judge and the police want to learn about."
2/16/2014
(2/24-2/28/2009)
I.
The wind was vicious. Jeremy Bane stepped out into the darkness in front of the yellow brick building where his office was located, felt the wind chill bite into him and took a deep breath. His body adjusted. Thirty years on a Tagra tea diet and Kumundu training had left him able to adapt to extremes of temperature quickly. There were limits, of course. For the moment he could stand outside in the bitter February weather and hardly notice it, but prolonged exposure would eventually harm him. He was about to turn right and go for lunch at the Five Guys the next block over when the blue-top taxi stopped right in front of him. A young man hopped out, threw the driver some money and slammed the door.
It would take an effort not to recognize Johnny Packard. Still in his twenties, the Brimstone Kid stood not more than five feet seven and weighed less than a wiry one hundred and sixty pounds. He was wearing cowboy boots, black jeans and a heavy coat with a fur collar. As he stood up, Johnny tugged a black Stetson with a red band down over his bright red hair and swung around. The wry crooked grin ran across his pug face. "Hey! Dire Wolf! Glad I caught you."
Bane did not particularly return the warmth. Johnny Packard seemed to bring trouble with him wherever he went. He had never officially joined the new KDF, although he had hung out with the team and helped on a few cases. There had even been a reported romance with Unicorn that fizzled out. But the Kid was too much a free spirit, too reckless and self-willed to ever be a good team player. Bane steped forward and said, "Hi, Johnny. Last I heard, you were out in Montana. Something to do with protecting wild horses."
"Keeping them from being ground into dog food, that's the gospel truth. Ain't why I'm here though. Mind if we wander into your office to do some talkin'?"
"Sure. Let's get out of the wind." Bane turned and walked with the Kid through the double glass doors which slid open automatically to admit them. They went past the EMERGENCY ONE walk-in clinic, down the short hall made by a wall and the side of the staircase going up. Here was a plain wooden door with a brass plaque DIRE WOLF AGENCY. Bane unlocked the door to reveal a tiny waiting room with two chairs and a coffee table littered with old magazines
"Not much of an office," observed Johnny.
"Wise guy." Bane opened the inner door and led the Kid into the real office, gesturing for him to take a seat. Johnny Packard pulled a leatherbound chair closer to the desk and wriggled out of his heavy coat. Underneath was a black work shirt and open vest. Strapped in an X across his chest were two gunbelts and he unbuckled them now to hang them over the back of the chair as Bane watched.
Taking off his Stetson, Johnny Packard brushed that coarse red hair with his fingers. "Now this is a proper office, suh. You solved a lot of murders here?"
"Lots. Which brings us to why you're here, John."
"Sure enough. Let me tell my story, Jeremy. Out by the border to Idaho is a ranch called Three Crosses, named after its brand. It got closed down years ago, maybe fifteen- maybe twenty years ago. Owner had tax problems. Most of the buildings are still standing, they need work but farm buildings always need work. I was thinking of taking it over. This past winter, I been squatting out there. I'm used to no electricity or running water, that's how I growed up."
Thinking of the Kid's strange origin, Bane could see why he would be happy roughing it, but he said nothing.
"Here's where it gets interesting. Maybe two- three weeks ago, I started seeing these weird varmints on the property at night. I'd have a pleasant bonfire going by the front porch and spot these critters skulking around. They're short. Not taller'n me. Mostly nekkid exept for a loincloth like an Apache'd wear. Skin was pale yellow, like a lemon. I'd chase 'em away and they'd come back the next day just a-staring at me from a distance. But I didn't want to shoot one or two because that might lead to a feud."
"True," Bane agreed. "Hair color? Eye color? Features?"
"Hell, they had flat faces like they got smacked with a frying pan. No hair I could see. Big white staring eyes. Gives me the willies right now thinking about them." Johnny exhaled sharply. "Then I rode my Harley to the nearest town for some supplies. Forty miles by the way, there and back. When I got home,I couldn't spot the bunkhouse nor the barn. They wasn't there! There was just big round holes in the ground."
II.
"Well, now you DO have my interest," said Bane. "Not ordinary sinkholes?"
"What, in that frozen rocky soil? Nah, tain't sinkholes. There was three of them, one right under each building and none anywhere else. That's not nature. That's human doing, somehow someone has a way to make buildings disappear underground. I figured it's right up your line of work, Jeremy."
"Yes. I want to look into this. Did you see any of those creatures around?"
"Nope. I stayed there another day, just itchin' to get my hands on one but no such luck. So I drove all the way to Boise and got a seat on a plane. Here I am."
The Dire Wolf got to his feet and started pacing without realizing it. His enhanced metabolism made him restless at the best of times and now he found it impossible to sit still. "I can't think of any beings in the Midnight War who match the description of what you saw. Nothing fits that look. Something new..." Bane swung around to face Johnny. "I want to investigate as soon as possible. Where are you staying?"
"Huh? I ain't staying anywhere. I came right here from the airport," said the Kid as he rose from his chair.
Bane picked up the cordless phone from its charger and hit a number. "Hello? Megan? Glad you're there. This is Jeremy. Is the CORBY available? You're sure Sable has no plans for its use? Okay. Yes, I think something interesting is underway and I want to borrow it. Right. I'll be over in a little while."
Johnny shrugged. "I thought them CORBYs belonged to you. You don't need permission to use one."
"Not anymore. I stepped down as KDF chairman, Sable is in charge now. Legally, I own the building and its contents but a condition of the lease is that the team has control over all the facilities. You mind a walk in that weather or you want a taxi?"
"Don't make no never mind to me," Johnny said. He began buckling the gunbelts with their heavy Colt .45s across his chest so the coat would hide them. "I do wanna thank you for taking this case on. Am I your client now? Do I gotta pay you?"
"Heh. No, we're acting as friends helping each other out." Bane got a long cloth coat from the closet, shrugged it on and got thin leather gloves from a pocket. "I'm glad you came here. I have a feeling something big is behind those farm buildings sinking out of sight." He led the way from the office, turning off the lights and clickin the door shut behind them. They stepped out into a winter afternoon where the wind howled between the buildings and seemed to actively chase people. Getting to the 38th and Lexington was not a long walk, but they certainly did not dawdle. As they approached the KDF building, Bane said, "You did good work with the team, Johnny. Sable gave you high marks for quick thinking under pressure and adapting to high stress situations."
The Brimstone Kid snorted. "And she flunked me on obeying orders, following protocol and proper use of equipment. Hell, I was a cowboy in my first life- I still AM a cowboy even in this recreated body. I wasn't born to follow."
She was also worried about that Darthan coin you wear in your hatband, thought Bane. We all were. It was like waiting for a timebomb to go off. As he stepped up to the front door with its plaque KENNETH DRED FOUNDATION, he heard locks unfasten from within and a woman's voice said, "Come right in." They entered the tiny foyer with its bench and its framed painting of Kenneth Dred himself. For twenty seconds, they waited, knowing they were being scanned by devices more advanced than any MRI but not even feeling a tingle, then the inner door opened.
At twenty-nine, Megan Salenger had not changed much since Bane had first met her as a teenager. She was still slim and fit, five foot three, with a shock of tousled black hair over an inquisitive face with large dark eyes and a pointed nose. At the moment, she was wearing a loose white jumpsuit with oil stains and she was wiping her hands on a rag. "Hello, captain. Johnny." She stood aside to admit them.
"Good to see you, Megan," said Bane as he hung his coat on one of a row of hooks. "I missed the last two pizza nights because I was on cases. How's everyone?"
She unzipped the jumpsuit and kicked out of it. Underneath, she wore dark slacks and a long-sleeved tan shirt with two breast pockets. "Everyone is well. The Midnight War seems to be in a lull at the moment. I suspect your arrival here means that will change."
Bane glanced through the open door of the reception room. "Where is everyone?"
"Gamulkor. Sort sort of Dwarf trouble, Sable said it would prove to be just too much touchiness and wounded pride, but she took the team. This is my day off, so I was cleaning the power source in the basement. Carbon deposits," she added gravely.
"Good thing Trom Girl is here," Bane said. "Are you sure Sable won't be needing the CORBY?"
"Absolutely. Of course, there is always the second model stored on Hawk Island. It would need forty minutes for a rundown and to warm up, but it is on standby." She spun and headed for the wide staircase in the middle of the front hall. "I myself will be ready in three minutes," came her voice as she trotted eagerly up the stairs.
Bane allowed himself a faint smile. He had not said anything about Megan joining them, but he would be glad to have her along. To the Kid, he said, "I'm going to the hangar to change into my field suit. You want to grab something to eat, the kitchen is still where it always was."
"Right kind of you," said Johnny. "All I had was a crummy bag of salted peanuts on the plane. I'll join you two in a mite." The Kid strode quickly toward the back of the hall and disappeared into the kitchen.
Taking the elevator to the ninth floor, Bane was pleased to have something interesting to investigate. Two weeks without a case, other than following someone who turned out to be not a Mandate spy but just a voyeur. The Dire Wolf was not made for inaction. At the ninth floor, he got out and hopped up short steps and through a door into the hangar. This had originally been the roof until he ordered it walled over. The CORBY sat on its restraining chocks, the black sharklike body and dark windscreen as ominous as ever and he felt a thrill at its presence.
A row of lockers stood along one wall, and his own was still there. Moving with the quickness of long hours of practice, Bane stripped down to the silk-thin Trom armor which left only his head and hands unprotected. The matched silver daggers were already sheathed to his forearms. Then came the snug pants, the jersey and the heavy boots, all black. He pulled on the waist-length field jacket with its own inner layer of armor and stowed away the various tools and gadgets from a shelf in the locker into the correct pockets.
Finally, he tugged the helmet over his head, lowered the visor and thumbed its power source on. The inside heads-up display lit with various readouts and tracking squares, and the light amplifiers kicked in. He retracted the visor. His other field suit was concealed back in his office at 44th and 3rd Avenue but it was good to make sure this duplicate suit was in proper order. Bane hung his street clothes in the locker just as Megan Salenger rushed into the hangar.
The Trom Girl had changed into her own version of the field suit, with even more devices in pouches and slits, and a round metal disc fastened above her shoulder blades. She placed her helmet on and climbed into the cabin of the CORBY, saying in a breathless tone, "I just finished calibrating everything last night. Systems are go." Soft pastel lights flicked on inside as she powered up the craft. "Captain, would you inspect the rear air vanes? See that the flow is even."
Bane went to the tail. The CORBY had no rear rotor, just two vertical vanes that used high-pressure air to help control flight. He placed his hand over each vent as air was expelled. "Looks good, Megan."
"We can have wheels-up in four minutes," she replied through the communication system in their helmets. "All indicators are green."
Johnny Packard walked into the hangar. "How we looking there, boss?"
"Climb aboard," Bane answered as he popped the co-pilot hatch and swung up to strap himself in. The Kid got in the back compartment and fastened himself to the padded bench. Overhead, the rotors began to turn. The CORBY rose up to waist level and the landing gear retracted.
Holding the stick, Megan said, "Ready for travel crystal."
"Not this time," Bane answered. "I want to take off from the hangar just to see how it goes. We should be out of sight before anyone can report us. Windscreen set to light amplifiers?"
"Yes. Full radius radar diverters on. Lifting off now." The huge roof panel slid open and the CORBY rose up with unearthly silence. Someone standing on the street might have heard what sounded like a breeze but nothing more. The Trom systems absorbed radar impulses with such efficiency that the craft might show up as a fleeting blip for a second, if that. Megan brought the CORBY straight up, rising well above the usual Manhattan traffic lanes.
"Nearest aircraft to us is a TV news helicopter, three miles south and heading away," Trom Girl said. Despite her attempts to keep emotion from her voice, there was a touch of smugness. "Waiting for course."
"Yellow River, Montana," called out the Kid from the back. "Bout fifty, sixty miles from the Idaho border."
"Got it," said Trom Girl, accelerating forward to cruising speed. "We can hit Mach-1 once we clear the metropolian area."
"Use your own judgement," Bane told her, watching the lights of New Jersey already being left behind.
In the back compartment, Johnny Packard shook his head. He remembered the first time he had seen a locomotive thunder past. At the time, he was convinced there would never be anything faster.
III.
Nearing their destination, Megan throttled down the Trom engines to cruising speed and re-engaged the rotors. The CORBY stopped acting like a jet and more like a helicopter again. Soaring high over miles of snow, the three of them gazed down at the landscape.
"Looks like it's been a rough winter," Bane ventured.
"Yep. Montana." In the back compartment, the Brimstone Kid was leaning forward between the two seats to see the landscape. "There you go. Them three circles, that's all that's left."
Trom Girl set the copter to hover and started taking readings. "Infra-red is interesting. I'm using our depth scanners." She was silent for so long that Bane and the Kid exchanged worried glances. Finally, she said, "I have to conclude there are underground structures beneath this area. I am getting images of many chambers linked by miles of tunnels. Stone construction. Five hundred and twenty-three human-sized life forms, with additional larger living beings further down."
"What the haill? You are telling me there's a CITY beneath my property?"
Megan turned her calm dark eyes on him. "It's interesting."
"What sort of temperatures are you getting?" asked Bane.
"Sixty-four on your Fahrenheit scale. Colder away from the main complex."
"Not Danarmyl, then. Could be Trolls, but they don't work in stone. This is something of a puzzle." Bane scowled and said, "Take us down, Megan."
The Trom Girl lowered the CORBY to the frozen ground without the slightest jarring. As the rotors slowed and she started powering systems down, she said, "I am putting the layout of the underground city up on the windscreen, if you wish to memorize it."
Bane and the Kid saw a bewildering maze of rectangular chambers with narrow tunnels connecting them seemingly at random. There was one chamber much larger than the rest, with several tunnels entering it from different directions, and this was located almost directly beneath where the surface buildings had stood.
"Looks like a right easy place to get lost," Johnny said. "I mean, good and lost."
"I have the layout memorized," Megan said casually as she unbuckled her restraints and opened the hatch to her right. She stepped down lightly onto the snow-covered ground and waited for them.
As he closed the rear hatch behind him, Johnny Packard glanced toward the lowering sun in the west. "Be getting dark soon," he said. "If there's trouble, I'll be capable."
Bane did not comment. He knew what sundown meant with the Brimstone Kid. Turning to Megan, he said, "I bet you've picked an entry point, haven't you?"
"Yes," she answered simply and started walking toward an outcropping of loose shale in the distance. Trom Girl knelt and pointed out what looked like an animal burrow. "This is for ventilation. There are several of these nearby."
The Dire Wolf walked a short distance away and crouched next to another outcropping which stuck up out of the ground at an angle. "This doesn't look right somehow." He started poking around, knocking loose rocks aside. One exposed area had a thin crack running across it. He got his fingers under a raised section and started to stand up, and a thin layer began to rise from the rock like a trapdoor. Megan and Johnny rushed over to help, piling up rocks to prop the trap open. An opening four feet across led down into the earth.
"Well, I'll be hanged," said Johnny. "Although I say it who shouldn't joke about hanging. Looks like an invitation, don't it?"
Bane lowered his visor and cut in the light amplifiers, and Megan did the same. Johnny Packard touched the red band around his bleack Stetson and grinned wickedly. Gloom fell over the high plains, and it got dark within minutes. The rim of the sun ducked behind a peak and the grey overcast sky lowered. Bane climbed down into the opening and slid out of view, and the other two followed in silence.
IV.
Stone steps led down to the gentle slope that extended for miles. As they walked, Bane and Megan could see clearly through their visors that they were in a tunnel constructed of small stone blocks fitted neatly together without mortar. The surface beneath their boots was cold and slick with ice. Following them, Johnny did not seem at a loss. With nightfall, his attitude and bearing had changed. He moved more decisively, and he stood straighter. Bane had been expecting this. They walked for what seemed like hours before the tunnel began to widen. Along the sides of the tunnels, carved decorative symbols began to appear. The outlines of strange animals pierced by weapons were carved at intervals. Ahead, they saw a dim green light.
Bane put his foot down and wheeled back the way he had come with lightning reactions, but even he was too late. They had crossed a pivot and a twenty-foot section of the tunnel floor rotated beneath their feet. All three fell headlong down twenty feet into a pit and the floor section closed over them. From long experience, the KDF members automatically loosened up as they hit, rolled to absorb the impact and were back up on their feet. Even in the darkness, their helmets had infra-red projectors in the crest that let them see clearly. They were in a circular pit with wall fifteen feet high, topped by the floor of the tunnel above them. A bizarre crowd starED down at them as if they were in an arena.
Sickly green light was coming from somewhere, perhaps behind the stone panels of the walls, enough to make visible the creatures who crowded each other to get a look at the intruders. These were the beings Johnny Packard had caught glimpses of late at night on the surface. They were small and scrawny, with long thin arms and legs. Naked except for loincloths, they had unhealthy-looking lemon-colored skin and round staring eyes in hairless heads. And although they jostled and shoved each other for a look, they were silent as mutes.
"I don't recognize these beings," Megan said with remarkable calm considering the circumstances. "Captain?"
"They're new to me," admitted Bane. "I have to say, they don't make a good first impression."
Both of them gave a start when Johnny Packard spoke. There was a hollow, echoing effect in his voice that had not been there before, "Them critters don't grow on you with time, either."
The silent beings stepped aside as a carved wooden throne was carried over and placed by the rim overlooking the pit. A man with milk-white skin and long hair like fine cotton stepped up and seated himself on that throne. He was very tall and so thin he looked like a victim of starvation, with sunken cheeks and a snub of a nose. He was wearing a flamboyant burgundy-colored silk shirt and slapped an ebony wand into the palm of his free hand as a habit. The strange man leaned over to study them.
"Pascal!" said Bane. "Well, of all people..!"
"Ah, the Dire Wolf, is it not? How pleasant to see you again," called down the albino with a French accent.
Bane said to his teammates, "That guy is Enrique Pascal. Albino, as you can tell. He's a Belgian spelunker famous among people who are into that stuff. The Human Mole, he was called, he came back alive from caves that were considered death traps. Unfortunately, he was also a jewel thief. He made a practice of robbing the very wealthy."
The albino laughed heartily. "Ah, my friend. You do not mention it was you who caught me, that unfortunate night in Geneva, and turned me over to the police. You broke my nose with that punch, Dire Wolf! It still does not function well."
"I thought you were in prison," Bane said. "You got ten to fifteen years, if I remember right."
"My friends here helped liberate me. They are expert at tunneling. The Swiss authorities still are scratching their thick heads over the hole in the floor of their prison. I did not expect to meet you again so soon, Bane, but just as well. You are on my list for retribution, of course, and now is as good a time as any."
Johnny muttered, "I can put a couple ounces of lead between his eyes from here, Jeremy."
"Wait. Let's find out what's going on first." In a louder tone, Bane called up, "You didn't build this city. What is this place? How did you find it?"
The gaunt albino settled back on his throne. "Ah, a deeper question than you realize. There are subterranean cities like these in a dozen sites around the world. In Yemen. In Laos. In Chile. The first one I found was beneath the Alps, and I discovered it quite by accident. They were built ages ago by a race that seems to have vanished. I call them the Huromi, the 'forgotten ones.' Sorcerors and Alchemists of great ability. Quite an empire they established thousands of years ago, yet all that is left are their buildings deep beneath the surface. This one here, in the Montana region of your United States, is the newest I have uncovered."
Bane yelled up, "And who are these little friends of yours? They can't be Human."
"My Mole-men. More loyal subjects no emperor ever had. They are not truly alive, in the sense you and I are. My Mole-men are constructs of false-flesh, with limited intelligence. When fed, they are active and carry out their duties. If not given food for a while, they slump into a suspended state. I found them in every one of the lost cities, lying senseless and just waiting for a new ruler to revive them and give them purpose." Pascal seemed to find this amusing. "There are empires in the earth you fools do not dream exist. I found an empire filled with willing subjects. How lucky am I?"
"You owe me for them buildings you sunk," the Kid called up. "There was no call to do that."
"Really," laughed Pascal. "I don't think you realize your situation. These tunnels can only be opened from the inside by one who knows their secret. You are a mile below the surface, cut off by tons of stone and dirt from the world you know. You are now my subjects as much as are my Mole-men. You, the young man, with the Wild West costume... I don't know you. Some work will be found for you. The girl with the slim figure and gamin face... you are appealing. It is time for the Emperor of the Underworld to begin collecting a harem."
"What?" said Megan. "I don't THINK so."
"And I'm sure you have plans for me that involve a painful death," Bane said. "But your dreams are going nowhere. Megan, bring him down here."
As soon as he spoke, Trom Girl reacted. She activated the gravity shield disc on her back and dove upward, seizing Pascal under the arms, swinging around and carrying him back to where her teammates stood. She dropped him none too gently from six feet up and alighted herself on her toes. "That's for saying I belong in a harem," she said.
Scrambling to his feet, Pascal looked wildly around. Megan had transported him down so quickly and unexpectedly that he was confused. Before he could figure the situation out, he felt steely fingers tighten in the front of his robe and yank him forward. Pascal stared into cold grey eyes from inches away.
"Now we are going to negotiate," Bane told him. "Stop wriggling, I'll break your nose again."
"You don't understand!" Pascal shrieked, trying desperately to get loose. "The White Mole!"
Bane followed the albino's line of sight and spotted a barred gate big enough for an elephant to get through. Even as he found it, the gate started to be winched up. Standing on top of the wall, two of the yellow serfs turned the crank that drew the gate up. A bulk the size of a bison reared up and lumbered out into the arena.
"Well, you're cute," the Dire Wolf said to his captive. "You were going to feed us to that thing?"
The creature may have been a mole, although six feet at the shoulder and covered with white dense fur, but it was different from any biologists knew. The legs were under its body, not out to the sides, and it walked like a qudraped. The flat front paws ended in long blunt talons but it also had two sharp canines alongside its wide incisors. Blinking in the light, the White Mole sniffed the air and started thumping toward the three surface people. Pascal yelped in panic.
"Everyone just calm the hell down," laughed Johnny Packard. "I got this covered." Reaching inside his coat, he drew out his Peacemakers. The gun gleamed with a red sheen as if they had been sitting in a fire. The Kid blasted two shots, much louder and deeper than any normal revolver should sound, and the flash from the barrels was bright as lightning. Two huge holes ripped open in the White Mole's head, one between the tiny eyes and one higher up. The beast reared up on his hind legs and fell over with a crash.
Twirling his six-guns, the Brimstone Kid chuckled. "Too bad my hoss didn't Preincarnate with me. I'd like to have him here. Well, Jeremy, back to what we were doing...."
Pascal managed to free an arm. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave a piercing, prolonged whistle. Hundreds of the Mole-men scrambled over the sides of the retaining wall, falling over each other and getting up again as they rushed to rescue their king.
V.
Seeing that wave of lemon-colored flesh pouring toward them, Bane flung Pascal roughly to the ground and drew two dazzler grenades from his field jacket. He flung them directly at the oncoming horde and slammed the visor of his helmet shut. Two blasts detonated, deafening and blinding. The dazzlers produced no shrapnel. They were designed to disorient, not harm, and against creatures who lived their lives in dim murky depths, the magnesium flare was like the end of the world. Most of them stumbled aimlessly or fell to their knees but there were still dozens who had been looking down or had their eyes shut at the instant of detonation and they kept coming. Johnny Packard went down under a pile of semi-living creatures who tackled him. His hat flew to one side, the pistols were yanked from his grip and he was lifted up into the air with three Mole-men for each arm or leg.
"Megan! Take off! Come back for us!" Bane snapped as the creatures reached him. It was with great difficulty he did not fight back, but he had made his decision. With his fists and feet, he could kill many of the creatures. If he drew the silver daggers, he could slice through a dozen of them, but sheer numbers would bring him down in the end. He clamped his jaws together in rage as the weird serfs swarmed over him. They couldn't do real harm, he figured, with his Trom armor and his helmet locked in place. And in fact, he barely felt their untrained weak blows.
Many of the Mole-men helped Enrique Pascal to his feet, straightening his robes and fussing over him. He hardly seemed to notice. The pure white skin was flushed pink in his anger and his chest was heaving. "Bring ropes. Tie them tightly. Take them to my chamber." The albino glared around. "Where is the girl?"
"On her way to the surface," Bane said. "She'll be back with the State Police. Hope your boys can swallow a lot of bullets, those troopers play rough."
Pascal shoved his fawning subjects back. "Idiots! Get off me. All of you, find that girl. Bring her to me." He settled down as some of the Mole-men brought thin ropes and began tying Bane's wrists behind him, then binding his ankles together. They did the same for Johnny, and then the creatures carried their prisoners overhead as they marched to where ladders were being lowered into the arena from above.
Bane saw the Kid had lost his ominous aura, he seemed to have shrunk down to more Human levels. It was the hat, of course. Inside the red Navajo beaded band was tucked the Darthan coin that was both Johnny's curse and strength. The redhead looked over and called out, "I wasn't exactly planning on this development."
"We're not done yet," Bane said. "I want Pascal to start spilling his plans." The two prisoners were hauled up to the retaining wall and carried down long corridors which twisted and seemed to double back on themselves. Finally, they were brought through high bronze doors into a luxurious chamber and dumped unceremoniously on marble flooring. Bane got up to seated position and saw piles of cushions, low tables with plates of candy and fruit, even a hookah filled with red wine. The sickly green light came from the ceiling, and he decided it was some luminous alchemical solution on the stones. By one wall was a shelf with a dozen books.
When he had first designed the KDF field suits years earlier, Bane had tried to incorporate useful gimmicks. Inside the stiff cuffs were a few tiny lockpick implements that could be drawn out with the hands cuffed. In the top of each boot was a ridge which was actually the raised handle of an old-fashioned razor blade. The Dire Wolf tugged one out and began slicing patiently away. He couldn't see what he was doing, but long hours of practice helped. A few nicks were going to be inevitable.
"Damn," Johnny said. "Beats my apartment every which way."
As Pascal entered, Bane said, "I see the one thing you're missing here."
"And what would that be, if you don't mind?" the albino muttered.
"Conversation. Talking to people. Your obedient Mole-men are great for chores, but have any of them read Proust? Can you argue with them about Napoleon's strategy in Russia or compare wines? No. Obviously not. You might as well be marooned on an island with nothing living in sight."
The albino sniffed. "That did not take much perception. I have been too busy mapping my empire and taming the White Moles for any free time. But your little friend reminds me that a harem is a fine idea. Every emperor needs female company. I shall have my Mole-men go up to the surface at night and bring me back a few women to choose from."
"Come on," Bane said. "It's more than that. I chased you through Switzerland for a week, I got to know you. You want praise. You want fame. Being lord of a secret empire is being anonymous, Pascal."
The albino lord of the underworld pulled over a stool and sat facing his prisoners. "Ah, it is too bad we must be enemies. I always thought police and criminals have more in common with each other than they do with the herd of stupid civilians. We play the same game, just on opposing sides."
"Sometimes I feel that way," Bane agreed. "But then I think of the victims. My duty as a Tel Shai knight is to protect them from predators like you."
"I know, I know. I could use a lieutenant like you. Someone with nerve and quick thinking. As you can see, I am conspicuous. Nature has marked me without pigment, one reason I became a spelunker. Underground life seemed to suit me. But it is difficult for me to move among people without being noticed. Someone with so-called normal coloring would be a big help to me in my work."
"Hey, I ain't got no job prospects," said the Kid. "Mebbe I could be your messenger."
"As if I could trust you either. No, it's too bad but your bodies will go to nourish the mushroom fields. I must get back to my work."
"Like what?" Bane asked. "Searching for one more of these lost cities? What's the point? Where will it get you?"
Pascal seemed to consider. "All right. Maybe your opinion will help clarify my thoughts. I expect surface civilization to collapse soon. It is a house of cards in the wind. Governments will fall, people will prey on each other for mere survival. Except down here. No one knows about the empires in the earth. I will bring a hundred fertile young women down here and impregnate them one by one. Why not? I am thirty-four and virile. The babies will raised by my Mole-men and by the time I am an old man, they will begin mating with each other. All that will remain will be to select an heir.. Pascal the Second, Lord of the Secret Cities. Then he will appoint one of his children to rule over the cities beneath Peru or Australia. My dynasty will reign for ages."
"You don't plan on starting a war between America and China, for example? Or stirring up race riots, just to move the apocalypse faster?"
"Hardly necessary. Mankind needs no help destroying itself," Pascal sniffed.
"There you go. That's all I needed to know." The Dire Wolf lunged up on toes and fingertips, and plunged at Pascal like a fencer striking. A straight forefist to the stomach drove the air from the albino's lungs with a rush, and a savage uppercut straightened him up again. The albino sagged senseless, and Bane caught him by the robe to lower him to the floor.
As he pulled a silver dagger to cut Johnny free, Bane said, "You're not the same without that talisman."
"Says you. Magic coin or not, I'm still a fast draw and a tough slugger." Getting free, he unbuckled his gunbelts and refastened them low on his hips. "Of course, having my irons would be a help..."
A panel opened in the wall and Megan Salenger stepped cautiously through. She took a second to digest the scene. "Oh. I thought I was here to rescue you two, but evidently it's not necessary."
VI.
"Good to see you," Bane said. "What's the situation out there?" He searched Pascal for weapons and found nothing. Using the cords, he had just cut through, the Dire Wolf bound the albino tightly and held out a hand to the Kid. "Let me use that kerchief you're wearing. This guy needs a gag."
"It ain't none too clean," Johnny said but handed it over.
"Those Mole-men are searching for me," Megan reported. "But they have low levels of intelligence and long response time. You can walk right behind one and he never suspects. I remembered the layout of this city, so I came here to Pascal's private chambers." She looked around and wrinkled her nose. "Where his harem was going to start, I suppose."
"Get over that crack about putting you in a harem," Bane suggested. "We need to get back to the surface with our prisoner. Can you lead us so we won't be caught?"
Trom Girl nodded. "There's a high probability of success. Follow me." She went back through the concealed panel and began walking through what seemed like miles of narrow passageways. At intervals, they had to step out into wider chambers and waited until no Mole-men were in sight. Once, one of the silent creatures was standing with his back to them, right in the way. Bane lowered Pascal to the ground, seized the Mole-man from behind in a sleeper hold and was surprised to hear the neck snap.
"I didn't expect that," he whispered. "These guys are fragile." They left the body concealed in a passageway. Now they were definitely heading at an upward angle. The Dire Wolf felt Pascal stir and start to wiggle. They paused while he took a dart from a clip and injected the mastermind with anesthetic, then hoisted him over one shoulder again.
The Mole-men were spotted less and less frequently as they neared the surface. After still more trudging, Johnny Packard hissed. "My hat! I can sense it. Over there." He started toward an open doorway on the other side of the tunnel. Bane reached to grab his arm, but the Kid shoved his hand away. "I ain't going back without that thing. Go on if you want."
Scowling, Bane lowered the sleeping prisoner to the ground and started after the resurrected cowboy. Before he crossed the passage, there was the sound of a scuffle, a few blows struck, and Johnny was already heading back toward them. He was brushing off the black Stetson and straightening its brim. "One of them fool varmints was wearing it! He looked mighty stupid." Lowering the hat on his head, Johnny's eyes suddenly glinted and he seemed taller. He was the Brimstone Kid again in actuality as well as name. Megan drew back a little from him.
The rest of the trek up to the surface seemed uneventful. Megan led them to where a tunnel came to a dead end with five steps leading up to a panel in the stone ceiling. "This is where we came in," she said.
"Listen," Bane interrupted. From behind them, the rumble of hundreds of feet sounded, growing closer. "Looks like Pascal's friends are on our trail." Megan slammed the trap door open and glided up through it. Dawn showed in the east. Johnny followed, reaching down to help haul Pascal to the surface. Bane climbed up through the opening. "Here they come," he said. "You two, get as far away as you can."
The Dire Wolf tugged a metal egg from the back of his field jacket, twisted its cap and tossed it down the shaft, then whirled and raced away at top speed. Dirt spewed up through the open trap door in a geyser and they felt the shock wave beneath their feet. Still too close, Bane lost his footing but got up again at once. The three of them stared. A long narrow strip of ground had sunk seven inches deeper,leaving a trench, and dust was still settling.
"That ought to seal the entrance," Bane said. He tugged off his helmet and wiped sweat from his face with the back of a hand. "We'll be gone from here in a minute and those Mole-men don't come up in daylight."
"Hoo-whee. I forgot how much fun you folks can be," said Johnny Packard. With the dawn, he had dwindled to normalcy again. "Maybe you should call me when you need an extra hand."
"It's a deal," Bane said. He examined Pascal, who was breathing noisily and twitching. "This guy will be waking up soon. Back to prison for him."
"Ordinary prison?" asked Megan. "What about his underground empire? What about all those Mole-men down there?"
Bane shrugged. "He was convicted of grand larceny, breaking and entry, and assault. He has years left to serve. I'll turn him over to the Swiss authorities with some story about running into him and taking him in. That's true enough, after all." Bane glanced back at the trench sunk into the ground. "As for his empires in the earth and his Mole-men and his plans for a dynasty... well, that's not something a judge and the police want to learn about."
2/16/2014
