dochermes

"Megistus"

10/5-10/7/1998

I.

The huge three-peaked tent was crammed with people, with not only every metal folding seat filled but with late arrivals standing in the back and starting to take up the aisles as well. There was no cotton candy or warm flat soda, no crying babies or mooning couples. This was no carnival or circus, this was a personal appearance by the great Megistus.

Toward the center of the audience, squirming from having arrived early and sitting for hours, were two young college students. The taller one had honey-blonde hair, a pointed chin and the lush curves reminiscent of an old-time movie star. Phoebe Janssen dressed modestly enough, with a white cotton blouse under a thin blue cardigan, but she did not have try to get attention. At the moment, she was shifting back and forth on the uncomfortable chair with a severely disgruntled expression.

To her left was her roommate and current best friend, Lauren Sable Reilly. Like Phoebe, Lauren had recently turned twenty. She was shorter than Phoebe, cute rather than gorgeous. She had jet black hair brushed straight back from a high forehead, huge dark eyes over a pug nose and a wide mouth that smiled easily. Despite her roommate's flashier looks, it was Lauren that boys felt comfortable with and crowded around.

"Tell me again why we are here on a perfectly good Friday night," Phoebe whispered. "There's a tequila bottle wondering what happened to me."

"We ARE journalism majors," answered Lauren in the same low tones. "I've gotten good marks with my papers for Professor Finch. You know he enjoys topics out of the ordinary. Something new to hold his attention. And here on cue is Megistus. I did some preliminary research on him. Megistus toured Europe beginning six years ago..."

"Lauren please! I swear, you love homework for its own sake," said Phoebe. "You need more mornings waking up on someone's bathroom floor with your clothes on inside-out."

The brunette scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Maybe next semester, if I get a light schedule. Anyway, there seems to have been some scandal regarding Megistus in Italy, where he skipped to avoid a court date--" The rest of her sentence was a mumble because Phoebe had pressed a hand over her mouth.

"Shh, shush shush. The party is getting underway."

In fact, the floodlights at the corners of the tent dimmed and the crowd settled down immediately. At the far end, a wooden stand held a podium with a microphone. Stepping up to it was the dramatic figure of Megistus, living up to expectations.

Well over six feet tall, athletic, wearing a simple white dress shirt and black slacks, Megistus seemed almost too handsome to be natural. His deep bronzed tan contrasted with the bright golden curls and shining blue eyes. Perfect teeth flashed in a confident smile and he held up both hands. "How happy I am to see all my new friends tonight," he began in a mellow bass. "Yes, I am Megistus. It has been my good fortune to have discovered a great Secret, the Path To Inner Balance. This is what I am honored to share with you tonight. My personal story is one as old as Man. I was born into a family with wealth, status, prestige. I lacked for nothing. Yet I was not satisfied. Something indefinable was missing, a melody one cannot quite remember. I indulged in the dark side. Drinking, promiscuity, drug use and gambling... all failed to make me happy. One morning I woke up cold and determined to try another path and this fortunately led me to the Secret."

Megistus paused, holding out his upturned palms. 'How can I tell you all the methods I tried? Nutrition, exercise. Hatha Yoga, Tai Chi Chuan, Zen meditation. Years went by and still I had not found the real peace I sought. I was walking in circles. Then, when I was ready, the light dawned.

"If you believe in chance, then a happy chance it was that revealed to me that which I needed to learn. I believe each of you has come here tonight because you also are ready for revelation. I would never say that your current lives are without worth. You raise your children, love your wives or husbands, work at your jobs and try to be good people. All honorable ways to live. Yet still, you feel the emptiness where there should be comfort. Let me help."

The tall blonde man raised his hands in benediction. Overhead, the flood lights shifted to a deep, restful blue. From beneath the canvas on the ground came a deep, humming vibration that the crowd felt through their feet.

Lauren glanced over at her roommate to make a comment, but Phoebe seemed lost in dewy-eyed adoration.

"Breathe is the source of life and wisdom," intoned Megistus. "Slow breath in, slower breath out. Slow breath in, slower breath out...."

Lauren Reilly became aware of a hand shaking her by one shoulder. "Hey! Roomie!" echoed Phoebe's voice from a great distance. "Snap out of it. Man, you're out of it."

"Eh? Pheebs? What happened?"

"The show's over, hon. We're trekkin' back to the dorm. Wasn't that amazing?"

As she hesitantly rose to her feet, Lauren checked her notebook. The page was still blank. "That's funny. Did I fall asleep?"

"Better than that," Phoebe laughed. "We ventured into the Cosmic All and became One with Creation. I'm still flushed with joy."

"I do feel pretty good," admitted Lauren, sounding uncertain. "Relaxed, anyway. "Yet, something bugs me. I didn't take any notes at all. The last I remember is Megistus making a speech."

"Oh, I guess you just got into it deeper than you expected. Let's go back to the dorm. Tomorrow morning, everything will seem clearer."

As they made their way down the aisles between rows of chairs, Lauren could not help but noticed how dazed the crowd was. Despite the vacant smiles, everyone looked a bit groggy to her. On an impulse, she paused and glanced back toward the podium. Megistus was still there, chatting easily with a few followers. Close beside him, barely up to his shoulder, was a frail shape wrapped in a coarse brown robe with a hood pulled up.

As the small figure raised its cowled head, something strange happened to Lauren. Her vision seemed to zoom in on the old man like a telephoto lens. She was seeing a close-up in painfully sharp detail of someone who was one hundred feet away. The face beneath the brown hood was ancient, too old to seem completely natural. Skin thin as a chicken's was wrinkled deeply and marred with liver spots. The hooked nose and hooked chin almost touched over the sunken toothless mouth. Beneath shaggy white brows, a pair of fierce dark eyes stabbed out at her. The mummified face split in a leer.

Panic rushed over Lauren like a bucket of ice water. She shoved her way out of the crowd, pushing people aside without realizing it and ignoring their protests. When Phoebe found her by their car, Lauren was shaking as if she was freezing. Phoebe herself was unusually saubdued and introverted, she hardly asked what was wrong. They got in and drove home in near silence, traumatized into numbness.

( the rest of the story )

"Blinded By the Light"

11/22/1998

I.

As soon as Bane stepped out of the dark green Mustang and the headlights snapped off, he was attacked by a Mandinka warrior from 16th Century Mali. The West African was a wiry muscular man below average height. Instead of the tribal garb one might expect, he wore regular modern clothing... shoes, slacks and a white polo shirt. In his right hand was a war club of fire-hardened ebony with a curved handle and a round head that had a pick-like point on the business end.

Fast and stealthy as the Mandinka was, his onslaught had no element of surprise. The Dire Wolf's senses were sharpened by two decades of Kumundu training. He side-stepped just enough to let the war club whistle past his head and he met the man's charge with an elbow to the forehead that used the Mandinka's own momentum to add more impact. The Preincarnated warrior slumped to his knees, dropping his weapon and making an incoherent dazed noise. He fell onto his face and his outline shimmered as his body reformed into an older American black man with a bald spot and a pot belly.

Emerging from the passenger side, Garrison Nebel had fastened the full length cloak of heavy gold material to drape over his white tunic and pants. In both hands, he held the Eyeless Helmet. "The Preincarnation effect dissipated when he passed out," said the blind mystic. "He is no threat to us now."

"First, there was the Samurai, then the Viking berserker, then the Aztec with his obsidian knife," Bane grumbled. "These guys are getting on my nerves." At forty years old, the Dire Wolf was a gaunt active figure dressed in the all-black field suit with its waist-length jacket bristling with a dozen weapons in various pockets. He closed the car door and crouched over the stunned cultist for a moment. "Pulse is steady, breathing is easy. I don't think he's completely unconscious even now, only dazed. He should be all right."

Turning toward the long redwood house at the end of that gravel driveway, Nebel frowned. "I sense overwhelming gralic force up there, Jeremy. Malice and cruelty combined with powerful magick."

The Dire Wolf tugged under his sleeves to loosen the matched silver daggers sheathed beneath them. "That's what we're here for, Garrison."

Coming out of the back seat was a petite woman in blue work shirt and jeans, with a short denim vest. Her dark blonde hair was tied back in a thick ponytail. As she stood up, Cindy kept a hand on the car door. "Jeremy, something's wrong..."

Bane flashed over to take her arm. "Are you okay? What's going on, Cin?"

The most gifted telepath of her era shook her head and sagged back against the Mustang. "I couldn't pick up on that Preincarnator who jumped you," she said. "My powers are fogged up. I can hardly think straight. It must be the menace Gary picked up on... the gralic aura is so strong that it's messing me up."

"I've never seen you affected like this," the Dire Wolf said. "Get back in the car. We can take you back to base just to be cautious."

"No, no, I'll be all right," she insisted, "But I don't think my telepathy is going to be much help on this mission. I can still help."

"Garrison, what do you think?" Bane asked with a rare edge of indecision in his voice.

The blind mystic had lowered the Eyeless Helmet down over head. Forged ages ago by the immortal Eldarin, the golden Sagehelm had a featureless face plate with only outlines etched in the metal where eyeholes would normally be. With the helmet on, Nebel stood straighter and his voice assumed a deeper, more resonant quality. "She is in more danger than you or I, captain. Her mind is more receptive to malevolent thoughts."

"I can DO this," Cindy insisted. "Jeez. I was at the Invasion of Maroch. I stood up to Angdros. I put John Grim in a coma! You guys are going to need me."

The Dire Wolf was silent for a long minute, then sighed. "I wouldn't order any member to stand down without good cause. Cin, hang back a little. If you feel like you're going to lose it, go back to the car. We're dealing with a worse threat than we normally have to face."

"Don't I know it!" she replied. "Somehow Vidimar has ramped up his Preincarnation spell to ridiculous levels. In the past two years, we've fought Achilles, Prospero, Gilgamesh and even freakin' Aladdin. Each one he resurrects is worse than the one before. We have to stop him while we know where he is."

Bane turned back to his other teammate, "Gary, you've got the Helmet. Give us a status report."

"Truth is not a tool I may use," Nebel answered in his distracted way. "The light of Elvedal passes though the helmet and reveals what it will. I can detect that there are only two living beings in that house. One is near death, as we speak."

Drawing the anesthetic dart gun from its holster at the small of her back where the denim jacket concealed it, Cindy made a show of checking its mechanism. "Okay. I'm wearing the full suit of Trom armor under my clothes and I have a protective Eldar talisman on an ensalir chain around my neck. Good to go."

Watching her and Nebel, the Dire Wolf said, "I wish there was time to gather a few more of our team. We could use Sulak or Valera for some muscle. It's times like this I really miss Khang."

The hollow voice beneath the Eyeless Helmet offered, "You yourself have told us that we cannot accept only the easy fights, Jeremy."

"Heh. So I did. All right, let's go in there and nab Vidimar before he flees the country. Our contact told us he was seen buying a ticket at Newark Airport this morning." Strapping on his own visored black helmet, Bane started up the gravel driveway at a quick easy lope, with Nebel close behind him, gold cloak waving in the midnight breezes. Neither of them saw Cindy Brunner stumble and only catch her balance by holding out both arms.

( the rest of the story )

"Mercurio's Last Heist"

9/22-9/24/1998

I.

At one in the morning, a thin man dressed all in black froze with one sneakered foot on the edge of the hotel roof. Coming almost within reach, a second man also all in black had emerged from the shadows. Mercurio was outraged. He would have sworn there was no one living who could have gotten that close to him without being detected. The great thief's pride was stung.

In the faint backwash from the street lights far below, the white flecks in his goatee and pointed mustache could just be seen, and the black wool cap hid the receding hairline. In his black tights, Mercurio still showed the nimble body of an acrobat. Over one shoulder was a small bag with a drawstring, and he was playing out a black silk cord he had fastened to a vent pipe protruding on the roof. Frozen motionless, he watched the stranger calmly approach.

"I was hoping you wouldn't show up in Manhattan again," said the newcomer. He was the same height and build as Mercurio, but wearing slacks, a turtleneck and sportjacket all in black. Just beyond arm's reach, he paused and regarded the master thief with pale watchful eyes.

It was those eyes that triggered memories. "Oh really," the great thief laughed. "More than twenty years have passed and that is how the student greets his teacher?"

"They've been busy years for both of us."

"Yes indeed. The Dire Wolf! I hear that title everywhere, Jeremy. My word. You have become legendary as a slayer of monsters and trapper of brutes. Samhain, Golgora, Seth Petrov. And poor Rook. I understand you were with Rook when she died?"

"Yes. She was very brave." Jeremy Bane pointed at the bag slung over Mercurio's shoulder. "Let me guess. Jewelry. Some of the cast of the new Hollywood movie are staying here to publicize it. The guys in the band BROKEN NOSES are partying with them."

Beginning to play the silk cord down the side of the building, Mercurio chuckled. "Do go on, dear boy."

"I know how careless they are. They lose and leave behind enough money and drugs for the average person to live on for a year. And all their diamond rings and assorted gaudy bling is all insured, so no one suffers. But still, taking what is not yours is theft and a crime, not to mention breaking into a hotel suite. And I am a licensed PI."

Mercurio waggled a finger reprovingly. "Don't get ahead of yourself, lad. You don't KNOW what I may nor may not have in my grouch bag. Perhaps merely clean socks and underwear. Perhaps library books I wish to return before dawn to avoid a late fee."

The Dire Wolf took a step closer, then hesitated. "I owe you a great deal. I was what, fifteen? With no money to pay you, and still you taught me many of the tricks you know. That one summer, I learned so much about stealth and misdirection. I never paid you back."

"It is a true gift that is freely given," Mercurio told him somberly. The master tugged on tough leather gloves that would let him slide down the silk cord without slicing his hands open. "Listen. You have no client you are working for, correct? You simply wanted to reacquaint yourself with an old tutor. Ciao! We are not likely to meet again."

As the agile old man swung over the edge and began his descent, Bane suddenly said, "Just stay away from the occult, Mercurio! That's all I ask. Leave Midnight War artifacts alone, okay?"

From halfway to the street, the mocking voice came up, "I never make promises I can't keep, my boy!"

Watching, Bane waited until the older man was safely on the sidewalk of the gloomy side street before unfastening the silken cord and letting it drop. As it hit in coils near his feet, Mercurio laughed and gathered it up, then got into the maroon Fiat he had left waiting.

Staying on the roof, the Dire Wolf watched the car pull away. He was thinking of his own early years, when he had been an orphan on the streets who survved by stealing everything from food to clothing to enough money for a night in flophouse. He watched Merurio drive away with emotions more mixed than he had felt in years.

( the rest of the story )

"New Faces While You Wait"

5/1-5/3/1998


I.

Since it was nearly impossible to calculate the relationship of time between the real world and the adjacent realms, Jeremy Bane had settled himself that morning for a long wait. He stood on the roof of the old ten-story KDF building and gazed down at East 38th Street. Still gaunt and active as ever, wearing the invariable all-black uniform of slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket, he remained the same Dire Wolf he had always been. Watching the traffic struggle with itself, studying the complex dance of the pedestrians weaving past each other on the sidewalks, Bane drifted into reflection. He had resisted starting a new team for so long...

The silent flare of pale blue light behind him made him jump and swing around. Where no one had been standing an instant before, a Chujiran youth swayed uncertainly as he got his bearings. It had been almost two years since Bane had seen Sheng Mo-Yuan and he noticed the boy had filled out a bit across the chest and shoulders. Eighteen now, the youth who called himself Argent stood five feet five and was solidly built. He had the skin tones and eyelid fold and thick black hair of a Northern Chinese, but the hawklike nose and high sharp cheekbones seemed out of place. The people of Chujir were supposedly the ancestors of the Han people from thousands of years previously.

Sheng was wearing simple off-white cotton trousers and long-sleeved tunic, with low soft slippers. In one hand, he carried a canvas travel bag. As he got his bearings and looked around him, his expression dropped from awe to severe disapproval. He saw Bane approaching. In Chujiran, he blurted, >"This city stinks! Is something burning? It makes my eyes sting. And it is so noisy! Why are all those horns blaring that way?"<

>"You'll adjust in a little while,"< the Dire Wolf replied in the same language. >"Manhattan does take some getting used to."< He gestured to an open trap door in the roof nearby and moved Sheng toward it. >"Sifu Tang must have described what you would find here."<

>"Well, yes. But it still is foul. What an awful odor. No. I am sorry for my manners."< Shifting to English, he said, "Good morning, Mr Bane. I am pleased to meet you again."

"Hello, Sheng. Your English is very good." Bane offered a hand, which Argent shook firmly.

"Thank you. Sifu Tang had been coaching me with... errr, serious? Seriousness? She has been most kind."

"Let's get inside so we can talk the situation over." The Dire Wolf led his guest down wooden steps inside the trap door. They went past the closed door of the hangar where the CORBY sat, descended more steps and entered the elevator which dropped them to the first floor of the building. "This is a box we are in, strong iron cables lower us quickly to the ground."

"Ah. Elevator. I was told they are quite safe," Sheng said, although the alarm on his face contradicted his words. They emerged into the front hall, with its long rows of bookcases along the walls. The marble staircase leading back upstairs, a framed painting of the Northern Lights and some bronze statuary, the gleaming dark wood paneling under recessed lighting, all lent a quietly impressive air. As he stood taking in that hallway, Sheng grinned. "This is more...comfort? The smell is better. It is quiet."

"Yeah, the air-conditioning is on low and the building is largely soundproofed," Bane said. He ushered his visitor into the office facing the elevator and got Sheng comfortably seated on the leather couch. He himself pulled a chair over to drop down facing the Chujiran. "Welcome to the real world. First, some good news. I have been talking with the Teachers and they agree to consider you as a student at the Order of Tel Shai. There will be a week or so of them getting to know you, judging your character and arguing with each other whether or not you're Tel Shai material. But honestly, not one person in a million is even considered, so you're already ahead of the game."

"I wish Sifu could have be here with us," mumbled Sheng.

So do I, Bane thought. Having his old teammate Tang Ming present with her tactfulness would have made everything much easier. He continued, "You already know about the KDF. I'm gathering possible members to start a new team. You're on the list."

"I am told many fine things about your KDF," Sheng said. "I will do my best to bring new honor to the name. As Argent, I can become strong enough to lift a horse overhead, swift enough to run past a deer, hard enough that arrows glance off me. With the right training, I am sure I can be a great Tel Shai knight!"

The Dire Wolf could not entirely repress a smile. Had he himself ever been so eager and enthusiastic? Ming had said that Sheng showed many character flaws, mostly excess pride and rashness. "You will find there is always much to learn," he said quietly. "What is even harder about life, you'll discover that you often will have to learn things over and over again to fully understand. But first, let's get out in the field today and you can start to explore the city. I think we have a mission to begin."

"Aha!" Sheng leaped to his feet, with one fist raised. "Already! Let us go, Mr Bane, I will tackle bandits and wild beasts without fear."

"Please, call me 'captain' or Jeremy," Bane said. "It's our custom. " He stood up as well. "And I am not certain there will be immediate fighting. We seem to be faced with a mystery to be solved."

"You will find my wits as sharp as needed," Sheng replied. "Tell me more."

"Sure. For the past few months, gangsters in the area have been turning up with entirely new faces. But they seem to get this way within a day or so, instead of the long recovery period needed for extensive surgery. They are starting second lives in anonymity and the police are having a rough time even identifying them. We're going to look into this problem."

Argent slumped in such instant disappointment that it was comical. "Oh. Is that all?"

"Well, I suspect there is something involved you might find interesting," Bane said. "You remember when we met, how the Smiling Brethren were managing their disguises?"

"Of course. The 'Meng-Lei' serum which softens bone." Sheng's expression changed again into fierce interest. "Someone has smuggled the Meng-Lei to this world, then?"

"New faces while you wait," Bane added.

( the rest of the story )

"The Red Spectre"

3/11-3/12/1998

I.

Cindy Brunner emerged up through the trapdoor onto the roof of the headquarters building. The fierce wind stung the skin on her face. She pulled up the collar of her down-filled jacket and mumbled, "Man, it's cold. What ever happened to spring?"

Most of the roof was taken up by segmented steel panels which rolled away like a shutter to allow the CORBY entrance and exit. A narrow walkway extended around all four sides of the roof with a waist-high rail for safety. At each corner of the walkway, a steel post extended up six feet with a glass-encased bulb burning brightly.

Jeremy Bane was already up on the roof, gazing down at the traffic on East 38th Street. "Over here, Cin."

The tiny blonde telepath hurried over to join him. She had never understood why the Tagra tea had given him so much more resistance to inhospitable conditions than it had her. They had both started the Tel Shai regimen at the same time. But there he stood in only his inevitable black slacks, turtlenneck and sport jacket, his black hair ruffled by the wind, and he honestly did not notice the chill. Maybe she should ask the Teachers about this, it wasn't fair...

Stepping next to her lover and parttner for the past two decades, Cindy linked arms with himm and snuggled up close. She also looked down at the street ten stories below. "This is great. I love a surprise," she said, "And you know a telepath doesn't get many of them. It's been torture all day not to read your mind and get even a hint!"

"We don't have to wait any longer," he said as he pointed up into the black overcast sky. "Look!"

As she watched with a sudden thrill that took her breath away, Cindy spotted a small dark human figure swooping silently down through the air toward them. It was a teenage girl, gliding into a vertical loop as gracefully as a skater on ice, stopping to hover right before them.

Cindy found herself grinning at the eerily beautiful sight. Their visitor was a young woman not more than five foot four inches tall, slim and small-boned. She was dressed in a snug black jumpsuit with high boots and gloves, a visored helmet concealing her head.

"Hello," came a subdued voice from inside that helmet.

"Good to meeet you in person, Megan," Bane said. He offered a hand which the girl firmly shook. "Permission to land."

As she touched down, the visitor thumbed an ear pod on her helmet and the visor slid up on its internal track. "Good evening, Jeremy. You must be Cindy. We have spoken several times on the phone."

"Of course!" the telepath laughed. "Megan Salenger. Great to finally see you." She also shook hands but then said, "Seriously can we just get inside already?!"

Bane held open the trap door as the two women climbed down the ladder inside when left them on the floor of the hangar. When he closed and locked the trapooor, they were felt warm dry air which made Cindy sigh and lower her shoulders which had been up by her ears.

The hangar walls were lined with cabinets, lockers, work benches holding tools and equipment. There was a bathroom door at the far end and a card table with a couch and chairs in one corner. No visitor ever noticed any of this at first. Their full attention was always on the CORBY.

Megan Salenger reacted the same way. With her visor raised, she walked slowly toward the black helicopter as if hypnotized by it. The CORBY was so sleek and perfect that it exerted the fascination as a race horse running or a falcon in flight. There was no tail rotor, only two vertical vanes that used high pressure air streams. The gleaming craft bore no identifying logo or ID numbers and its windscreen seemed tinted when seen from outside.

"CORBY ONE," Megan said in a whisper as she circled the copter.

"We used to have three of them," Bane said. "One on Hawk Island, one destroyed. With Len gone, we had no way to replace them."

The girl turned her dark eyes on the Dire Wolf. She was wearing no make-up, those lashes were her own. "I know Leonard Slade designed the CORBY for you. I never met him but of course I have been briefed." She stepped closer and her tone became critical. "There is serious wear in the canopy seal. The rotor is visibly out of line. I see many parts which need upgrading."

Bane nodded somberly. "Taking care of this bird would be a major part of your duties, Megan. When Len died, I suddenly realized he left us no manuals or schematics. He did all the maintenance himself."

"Are you saying this helicopter has not had upkeep or overhaul for years?" she said with deep horror in her voice.

"Not entirely. Our member Stephen Weaver has worked on it as best as he can. He's a highly skilled USAF specialist in field repairs. But, after all, he's Human and most of the CORBY is beyond Human tech."

"Don't you know Steve?" asked Cindy. "I spoke to you at the HCE in New Mexico where he's been employed for years?"

"Yes," Megan said. "I think I should clarify everything as far as I am authorized to do. The Human Capability Enhancement Project has from the start been an interface between Trom and Humans. You remember Andrew Steel. He began there. It was at the HCE that Slade developed the Trom-influenced devices he was allowed to share with your team. In return, he gained admittance to Tel Shai, with its ancient secrets known nowhere else."

"Yeah, Len was open about all that," Bane told her. "He said it was an arrangement where both parties benefited."

"The Trom councils wish to re-establish that arrangement. The wisdom of Tel Shai is immensely valuable." Megan cocked her helmeted head to one side and regarded them soberly. "Also, the work that Tel Shai knights do is respected by the Trom and they wish to contribute to it."

"Glad to hear that," Cindy said. "It's been eight years since the KDF was disbanded. The Midnight War needs heroes more than ever."

"This is why I have been sent to you." Megan met Bane's unsettling pale eyes with quiet confidence. "I have full permission to apply for membership in both the KDF and as a student of the Order of Tel Shai. If you will have me."

"Let's go down to the conference room," Bane said. He led Cindy and Megan down steep concrete steps to the ninth floor, which was as high as the elevator reached. They rode down to the second floor in silence.

Opening the door to the high-ceiling conference room, Bane snapped on the lights to reveal a long oak table. "This was where we met," he said. "So long ago."

"It seems like a hundred years have passed," Cindy mused. She wrestled out of her coat and hung it in a wardrobe, then went to join Bane and their guest taking seats at the long oak table. There were ten solid chairs on either side of that table, with one at each end to make an even dozen.

"So much happened here," said Bane with a distant tone that was not like his usual sharpness. "Even before the KDF, two earlier generations of heroes met at this table. Dr Vitarius with his team in the early 1930s and Mr Dred's assembly of mystery men during the war. Most of them are gone now...."

Seated at Bane's left, Megan Salenger unfastened her helmet and placed it on the empty seat next to her. In the cool overhead fluorescent lighting, they could see that she was quite pretty in an unobtrusive way. She had a shaggy head of thick black hair, clear-cut features with large dark eyes and a pointed inquisitive nose. Her full lips seemed as if they had never smiled, though.

Megan did not at all resemble the stern, puritanical Leonard Slade with his lantern jaw and deepset eyes that they remembered.

"Excuse me but I have to get this straight," Cindy began. "You yourself are not a Trom, right?"

"I am a Human orphan who was raised from infancy by a council of Trom supervisors," the girl answered. "Coincidentally. I was born the same month that the Monitor called Leonard Slade joined the Kenneth Dred Foundation. My parents died in a traffic accident on the Massachusets Turnpike and since they had been working with Trom researchers, the Trom took over my custody. I have been trained all my life to become a liaison between the two Races, as Slade was."

"Oh, that's a remarkable story," Cindy said, not entirely happy about it from her voice. "When we have time, I'd love to hear more about it. Did you socialize with regular people? Travel? Ever have a boyfriend or a gal pal?"

"My life is one of duty," Megan said. "Since many in the Midnight War are known by a code name, I have decided to be known as Trom Girl."

"Wait, what?" Bane said as if coming back from his own thoughts.

"Do you dislike it? I chose the name because it will lead enemies to underestimate me and because I am told it has a friendly sound."

"Well... all right. 'Trom Girl.' I suppose a man that everyone calls the Dire Wolf can't be critical." Bane leaned back in his seat and regarded their visitor with new acceptance.

"So, physically, you're like a normal Human?" Cindy said. "You're not, well, cold and distant like Len was?"

Megan took a second to answer carefully. "I am completely Human. My upbringing has taught me to repress emotional responses and to channel these responses into constructive work. But I must be realistic. I will sometimes experience some fear or anger or affection under the proper circumstances. I simply go on disregarding these reactions."

"Oh brother," scoffed the telepath. "I predict high blood pressure and ulcers in your future."

"I... don't understand," Megan said. "I must ask, has my application for membership been considered?"

"If it were up to Cindy and me, we'd swear you in tonight." Bane glanced over at his partner and got an affirmative nod. "The Kenneth Dred Foundation still exists as a non-profit research organization. It just doesn't fight battles anymore. There are a dozen associate members on retainers to investigate. You could join right now in that capacity. But you would not be a knight of Tel Shai."

"Yes," Megan said. "That is what I am most interested in learning about. KDF members were all Tel Shai knights."

"We will take you to the Order and present you to the Teachers. They are all extremely old and all good judges of character. I think it's a sure bet you will be accepted as a Tel Shai student, which will qualify you when we start the new KDF team."

"I understand." For someone who had just turned eighteen, Megan Salenger regarded them with a solemnity any judge would admire. "I am grateful. I hope to prove worthy of their trust... and of yours."

( the rest of the story )