dochermes

PROJECT REGULUS III - A Pack of Dire Wolves

6/17-6/18/1990

I.

Bane had seldom felt his awareness of danger react more strongly. Every sense was keyed up to the point where it was taking an effort to stop himself from turning around and heading back to his car. What he felt was not fear so much as an awareness of imminent threats all around him. The Dire Wolf made himself breathe deeply and slowly, bringing out his enhanced hearing but still not being able to pinpoint what was alarming him.

At two o'clock on a muggy Sunday morning, this area off Wall Street was as deserted as any part of Manhattan ever became. The darkened skyscrapers on all sides were so tall that it felt like being at the bottom of a canyon, and he had not seen anyone on foot since coming down here. Every five or ten minutes, a taxi or police car might roll by, but that was about it. This was not a residential area. In the shadows of a deep doorway, Bane stared at the ancient church across the street and was annoyed at not being able to specify what was bothering him.

The church of Our Lady of Perpetual Hope was a protected historical site, dating back more than two hundred years and still in use. It hunched down between two towering office buildings, set back from the sidewalk behind a wrought iron fence, lit by a standing lamp post with a plaque detailing the church's history. Funny that the steeple had once been the tallest structure in the neighborhood, he thought. By the side of the church, pressed up against its wall of closely packed stones, was the woman who had called him here.

He had spotted her immediately but she was not the threat that was keeping him alarmed. Her body language indicated fear and uncertainty, not aggression. The woman was tall, about five feet eight, thin, dressed in a dark windbreaker and slacks. Straight black hair reached to her collar and even from across the street, he could see how unusually pale her skin was. But it was not her that his training was warning him about.

Finally, Bane strode across the street toward the church. The woman straightened up as he came into view. Getting closer, he saw she had a narrow face with pale eyes and there was something unsettlingly familiar about her. He realized that she looked a lot like he himself did...

Not speaking, still watching and listening as if surrounded by wild animals on all sides, the Dire Wolf walked up to her. He stopped just out of reach in a wary stance, ready to move in any direction instantly.

"Oh, you came at last," the woman said just above a whisper. "I'm Lucinda. I called you."

"Well, here I am." He turned slowly in a half-circle. "Is someone following you?"

"Yes. We have to get somewhere safe," she said. This close, her features were so much like his that they could have been brother and sister. "I have to warn you, there is danger..."

"You're telling me," Bane snorted. He whirled just as a dark figure dropped down off the roof of the church right at him. The Dire Wolf sidestepped and drove a hard left hook up into the attacker's oncoming body. The man grunted from the impact but still landed lightly on his feet. As the attacker straigtened, Bane was within a split-second of throwing a follow-up blow when he sensed something behind him. Quicker than any normal Human, a second attacker pounced and seized him around the body to pin his arms down.

The first man closed in fast, whipping out a straight jab. Bane rolled his head back so that blow barely scraped his jaw and pushed back against the man holding him so he could blast a front snap kick that cracked against the first man's chin. Bane brought that same leg back down to hook behind his grappler's ankle and got him off-balance.

If anyone had been passing by, they would have seen only a confusing blur of motion as Bane traded blows with his attackers, striking and blocking faster than an untrained eye could follow. He realized with a jolt that these men were just as fast as he was, maybe even a bit quicker. Snake men? Gelydrim? It was so rare that he encountered anyone who could meet his enhanced speed that he was taken aback. They were skilled fighters, too, and he had his hands full.

One of the men had drawn a knife and managed to get in a slash along Bane's cheek but he was left open by the swing and Bane caught him with a backfist that spun the man around. In the same continuous movement, the Dire Wolf whirled and drove out a high side kick that slammed the other attacker back against the wall of the church directly behind him. Bane had felt the man's bones crack under his boot at that blow. The attacker slumped limply to the ground.

Stepping back, the Dire Wolf touched his cheek and found the bleeding had stopped already. His healing factor from the tagra tea diet was at its peak. He stared down at the men he had beaten. Everything had taken place within a second or two and for the first time, Bane got a clear look at his enemies. The two men were wearing all black and they looked exactly like him with one difference. Their skin was the flat dull grey of a corpse.

"Project Regulus...." he growled.

( the rest of the story )

"The Harbor of Dreadful Night"

1/13/1990

I.

Blue light burst silently in the gloom of a Chujir back street. Two dark-clad figures appeared in the shadows and swung around to make sure no one had seen them. The city sat in a sullen silence under an overcast sky through which the moon could barely be seen. On widely scattered corners of the narrow streets, a torch burned atop a pole. Aside from those torches, the darkened windows and the uneasy hush made this seem to be an abandoned ghost city. None of the wooden houses stood more than two stories high, only Imperial structures were allowed to exceed that height.

'The Harbor of Dreadful Night,' this city was called, because of its reputation for smuggling and murder, and because often young men were snatched by roving gangs to be pressed into service on lawless ships. The eerie silence did much to persuade the two newcomers that the name was deserved. Back to back, Tang Ming and Chen Wong-Lai listened intently before turning to face each other. It had been less than a year since they had become lovers and they learned more about each other on these perilous missions than they did in their socializing.

Chen Wong-Lai had on his modified version of the uniform his father had worn as the first Dragon of Midnight, all black including the snug tunic with its cowl pulled up over his head. The full-face cotton mask bore a silver outline of a rampant dragon. Beneath his clothing on a silver chain was the ancient Eldar talisman who granted him the power to walk through walls... the Dragon Pendant. Although he could not hear anything suspicious, he knew his lover had perception beyond normal Human limits. "Ming?" he whispered.

Barely five feet tall, Tang Ming appeared delicate but that was deceptive. Her long training in Kumundu had hardened her. Beneath the simple trousers, white blouse and open black vest, her body held strength and co-ordination any athlete would admire. Ming's glossy hair was cut straight across the nape of her neck and her huge dark eyes moved restlessly. Her special gift was enhancing her perception with gralic force. She could tell if something was out of place, if any living thing near her was angry or afraid.

As soon as they had appeared in Chujir, Ming took in all her impressions. The sting of salt water close at hand, water trickling from a roof to the slick cobblestones, the snoring of an overweight man sleeping by an open window, the scuttle of a stray cat leaping from a fence onto a rain barrel. None of this was important. It was the presence of enemies that called to her.

Her small hand reached over to squeeze Chen's. "Someone knows we are here, my Dragon," she whispered. They spoke English because Chen was second-generation and his Cantonese was barely acceptable at best. "I feel menace coming directly towards us."

"They must have sensed the gralic gate when we arrived," Chen grumbled. "Can you identify them, little phoenix?"

"Not yet. I do not recognize the leader, but he is hard and mean, very strong, with a gralic weapon. An axe, I think. There are three lesser enemy under his command. They are quite near."

"Then let us welcome them as they deserve," said the Dragon of Midnight. "The coincidence is too great. They must be after the same goal we are... Prince Wai."

"Finding that child may save hundreds of thousands of lives. If there is no clear heir to the throne, all the claimants will gather their followrs and a civil war will be inevitable." She sighed and shook her head. "So much destiny riding on a toddler. Worse, we have only twelve hours before the gralir fades and we return home."

"Oh well," said Chen, rubbing her shoulder encouragingly, "We work best under pressure, don't we?"

Tang Ming swung around to face the mouth of an alley so dark it seemed to absorb light. Four men hurried out of that blackness, not yet aware of the Tel Shai knights in their path. Three were Chujirans with shaven heads, wrapped in loose baggy white tunics and pants. All carried longbows and wore Y-shaped leather quivers on their backs. Inexplicably, all three were also blindfolded, although it did not seem to hamper them in their running.

It was the fourth man that both Chen and Ming recognized from descriptions. Harak the Damned! He was a burly figure of medium height, wearing tight leggings and a Gremthom metal breastplate which left his muscular arms bare. A simple helmet also of Gremthom concealed his features behind a flat faceplate with only thin slits for his eyes. In both hands, he wielded a vicious hatchet with a curved handle as long as his arm... the cursed life-drinking weapon forced on Maroch ages ago by the Darthim.

At the same time that they saw Harak, the infamous mercenary spotted them. He barked an order to the Blind Archers, who were notching arrows to the string without breaking stride.

With his right hand, Chen reached up to the stiff leather cuff on his left wrist and flung two anesthetic darts, first in a backhand motion and then overhand. For a brief time, he had experimented with using gas-powered ejectors to shoot the darts but inevitably he felt most comfortable relying on his own skill. The darts were weighted with a thicker metal band along their length to give them some kinetic punch. The remaining Blind Archer felt a burning sting at the side of his neck, but confusion followed so quickly he was not even able to reach up toward the dart before he sagged to his knees and fell over on his side. The assassin beside also twitched as a dart jabbed into his cheek and he did not have time to comprehend what was happening either before he fell into a drugged stupor.

Further back than his colleagues, the final Archer let fly with one of the deadly shafts. Tang Ming eased into a state of deep relaxation, letting her body act on its own far more quickly than conscious thought could have directed it. When the iron barb of the arrowhead was within an inch of her face, the Chinese girl blurred her hands up not to catch the arrow but to redirect its momentum. Suddenly that shaft hissed through the air to punch deep into the chest of the man who had launched it. He lived the few seconds necessary to recognize the brutal irony of it all.

Of all the assassins in the Midnight War, from the Brumal to the Night Gorillas to the White Web, few were as feared as the Blind Archers. Yet in the two Tel Shai knights, the bowmen had more than met their equals.


( the rest of the story )

"The Shark That Walks"

12/3-12/5/1990

I.

At one o'clock on a sultry humid afternoon, Jeremy Bane emerged from the San Dirago airort and glanced around him with only vague interest. He was wearing his usual outfit of all black... slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, inappropriate for tropical heat. Sweat broke out in beads on his face and neck, but he didn't notice. For once, the pale grey eyes were dull and withdrawn. The Dire Wolf looked around, frowning, then turned to the little blonde standing next to him.

At five feet one and barely a hundred pounds, Cindy Brunner seemed much more comfortable but then she was wearing only a light cotton dress and sandals, with her hair pulled back in a thick pony tail and sporting oversized round sunglasses. Hanging from one shoulder was a small white handbag. The telepath gazed back up at her lover and partner for the past decade and she mustered a smile. "Awake yet?"

"I guess," Bane replied with uncharacteristic vagueness. "I must have been really out. Did I sleep the whole time?"

"You did!" she told him. "And you really needed it. Once your body accepted that it was trapped on a plane, it gave in and you were out like a light. About time."

Bane stretched and stifled a yawn. "Okay. Now you promised you'd explain this. First thing this morning, you dragged me in a taxi to Newark Airport and refused to answer any questions. Here we are. I never heard of San Dirago."

"Actually not too far from the Florida Keys," she said. Cindy lowered her shades and gave him a mischievous glance. "Closer to Cuba. I've never been here but my sister Liz came here on her honeymoon and talked about it for the next year. Come on." She took his hand and tugged him across the tarmac to the open gate in the chain link fence which encircled the rather small airport. Tourists strode happily past them, chatting and pointing at the city. A few weary businessmen trudged along, dragging their luggage on wheeled carts. A row of yellow taxis with red roofs sat idling along the street, accepting the passengers as they rushed up.

"Not for us," she declared, stepping out on the sidewalk and turning right. Guizar was the capital and largest city on San Dirago, and it looked modern enough. The biggest obvious difference from New York was that most of the people on the streets were short, stocky, with olive skin and curly black hair. The signs were in Spanish and snatches of unfamiliar Mariachi-sounding music came from cars. She saw Bane straighten up a little and take an interest in his surroundings. He began scanning the streets in his usual way, taking in details with rapid accuracy. Seeing this lifted her heart.

As they walked along in the sullen heat, Bane suddenly seemed to come back to life. "You realize we don't have any luggage, right? Just what we're wearing?"

"Exactly," she said. "You got your Trom armor under your clothes, the silver daggers under your sleeves, the usual hidden gadgets in concealed pockets. I've got our checkbook, our Platinum Visa and American Express cards and two thousand dollars in small bills in my handbag." She paused in front of a store which sold luggage and furniture. "Here. We need a knapsack for you and a little suitcase for me."

She dragged him inside, where they were enthusiastically greeted by the owner in passable English. In a few minutes, they had selected a huge knapsack with a dozen outer pockets for Bane and a small tan leather suitcase for Cindy. The owner happily accepted American dollars. Scanning his surface thoughts as they made the purchase, Cindy decided he was only overcharging them a little and she could accept that. They got out before he could start trying to sell them a dinette set.

Back out on the street, Bane slung the knapsack over one shoulder and allowed the faintest of smiles across his narrow face. For the next hour, they picked up clothing. Socks, underwear, two bras, khaki shorts for both of them and white sneakers. She bought two colorful short-sleeved blouses for herself and three plain T-shirts for Bane in white, red and green. Then a second lightweight dress for her and a white button-front shirt for him. He went along with all this in growing amusement. At a pharmacy, she rounded up toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, bars of soap and mouthwash. most of their purchases went into the knapsack.

"I think we're all set," Cindy announced finally. They had been walking the streets for two hours. "If I remember right, Hidalgo House should be a few streets over. Yep, there it is. That's where my sister and Joe stayed on their honeymoon."

They approached a twenty-story building that looked like a presidential palace. On a canopy extending out into the parking lot was HIDALGO HOUSE in golden script. A doorman in a military-style uniform, complete with white gloves and braided epaulets, watched them approach and opened the glass door for them. Bane was frowning again as they walked across a lobby with marble floors and red velvet wall hangings and a crystal chandelier. "Is this necessary?" he muttered low to her. "All we need is something simple."

"Trust me," she answered. At the desk, she spoke with the clerk and admitted they had no reservations because the trip had been a sudden necessity. Cindy's good looks and relaxed charm almost always worked wonders, and the pudgy clerk grinned ingratiatingly as he decided finding them a decent suite would not be a problem. They got rooms on the ninth floor. Cindy paid him with her American Express card, showed her passport and thanked him profusely. No, she said, they would not need a porter.

Heading up in the elevator that had brass furnishings and polished wood walls, Bane still seemed unhappy. "I don't see why we need all this."

"Jeremy, I don't think it ever sank in with you. You are filthy rich. Kenneth Dred left you an inheritance of just over one hundred million dollars. And you've amassed a war chest from defeated enemies that triples that. Heck, after the Snake War alone, we brought home truckloads of illicit cash." She laughed easily. "I've been living at headquarters and socking away my KDF stipend for the past ten years myself."

The Dire Wolf shrugged. "I never gave it much thought. It was just a way to carry on our work."

"Well, now we deserve to live a little." The door dinged open on the ninth floor and they walked down the hallway until they found their suite on the west corner. It was cool, dry and as elegant as all but the finest hotels in Manhattan could match. The iron balcony looking out over San Dirago Harbor was big enough to serve as a room itself. Cindy inspected the furnishings in the airy sitting-room, with its comfortable armchairs and a broad sofa in maroon covering. There was a sideboard that held glasses and a few assorted whiskey bottles, a walk-in tiled shower in the huge bathroom, the double bed with its silk canopy in the bedroom. She declared herself satisfied. She glanced at a painting on one wall that showed a horse rearing on a hill but had no idea if it was original or not.

Bane lowered his knapsack to the overstuffed easy chair that faced a big screen TV. "I think I know why you're doing this, Cin. Thanks. It's meant well."

"After what happened? When we lost half our team and disbanded the KDF? Yeah, I think we need to come back to life a little, hon. Not to trivialize things but that was a month ago. What have you done since the funerals and paperwork were over?"

He looked out at the ocean, sparkling in the sun almost at their feet. "Not much. I haven't taken any cases. I guess I'm retired."

"You've moped around the headquarters. Not eating much, sleeping in naps whenever you're too tired to stay awake. Ted has kept his clinic going and works two nights a week at Metro General. Gary is staying at Tel Shai to meditate, Sulak and Valera went back to Androval. We need to move on too. Our lives aren't over."

The Dire Wolf exhaled sharply. "What I need most is a hot shower. I'm all sticky, and I guess I haven't shaved for a few days."

Cindy dug through the knapsack for soap and shampoo. "I'll join you. Then we will have some serious loving and a long nap before picking a restaurant for dinner." She grinned impishly up at him. "Ah, I see that smile. Come on, Jeremy, admit I'm always right."

He shrugged off the black sport jacket in relief. "I can't argue with that."

That night, they ate at a decent restaurant overlooking a row of yachts and sailboats tied up to moorings. The Delacruz had a patio with open-work iron tables and a breeze coming in from the ocean made the night air more bearable. Cindy was wearing another light cotton dress of white with yellow flowers, belted at the waist. Bane had the black slacks on again but he wore a dress white shirt without the jacket. They had decided to try whatever jumped out at them from the menu. It turned out to be curry goat and dumplings, fried plantains and rice with kidney beans. The gaunt Bane ate enough for two husky men, his enhanced metabolism meant he was always starving.

They ordered wine but couldn't finish it. This was a side-effect of the Tagra tea regimen they had been on for a decade. At this point, their bodies healed from extensive damage quickly and their aging had slowed, but their systems also rejected poison. Evidently, by now their bodies had adapted to where the wine was difficult to swallow without immediately spitting it back up, so they had to settle for fruit punch and ice water.

Finally done, they sat for a while watching the crescent moon rise overhead. "Feeling better?" she asked.

"Sure, I was starving. That isn't what you meant, though."

"No. Look, Jeremy. You're thirty-three and I'm thirty-two. We're in perfect health, we have no kids and no resonsibiities really, and we're incredibly rich. I hereby declare that we will spend the next month or two enjoying ourselves. Concerts. Museums. Art galleries. Let's see Rome and Paris and Rio! We deserve a long vacation."

For the longest moment, Bane did not reply and she had a twinge of fear that he would reject the idea. But he nodded and said, "We've earned it. What's your plan for right now?"

"Oh, I don't know... a walk around the city tonight, then spend tomorrow swimming and lying in the sun. Maybe rent a boat."

"The Midnight War may find us," Bane said glumly. "It always does."

"Jeremy, no! Absolutely not. No Voodoo cults, no Zombies, no Midnight War at all. Let the world save itself for a while. Listen, have you ever wanted to grow a beard?"

"I...never thought of it," he answered slowly. "Why?"

Before she could answer, a tall black man in a white tropical suit came up to their table, Panama hat in hand. "Pardon me, but surely you are the Dire Wolf?"

( the rest of the story )