From: "Colin J. Wynne"  <WYNNE.C@fs.sciences.WLU.EDU>
Subject:      Mission to the Nile Empire
X-Gated-By: The Black Marble Wombat@morticia.cnns.unt.edu
X-Gated-From: torg mailing list
Organization: University of North Texas
X-Gatemail-Version: 1.0b
Date: Thu, 30 Jul 1992 23:21:05 GMT

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PROLOGUE:
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    Brenden Marshall Llewelyn, Viscount of Harms, former CIA
operative, and British Citizen since he left America (one step
ahead of treason charges) in disgust at the Delphi Council, was
summoned to the office of the director of M.I.6, Great Britain's
Foreign Intelligence Agency.
    After waiting a few minutes in the outer office, the secretary
told him that the Director was ready to see him.  Rising, Brenden ran
his hands once over the pleats in his pants, settled his sunglasses
squarely on his nose, and strode through the great oaken door.
    "Lord Director, sir."
    "Count Llewlyn," he acknowledged, standing to offer a hand.
Llewelyn shook it firmly.
    "Sit down," offered the Director, as he did likewise, picking up
a thin folder from the desk.  "I just read this report from your
American friends about the work several of your comrades did in
Redsides, California.  Excellent, that.  Very good show."
    "I"m sure they'll be glad to hear that, sir."
    "Mm-hmm.  You weren't able to be there?"
    Brenden shook his head.  "No, sir.  I'm afraid I had other
business at the time, and I'm none too popular in the States at the
moment."
    "There is that.  Anyway, your group has been on our Reserve List
since the, ah, removal of the Cardinal aboard the Orient Express,
correct?"  The Director looked up from the papers.
    Brenden said, "Yes, sir."
    "Well, since the Yanks have put that damn fool Registration Act
into effect, they have been using Storm Knights quite a bit, and to
good ends if their reports are to be believed.  Is that your
impression."
    Brenden's face could only be described as a snarl.  "Sir, most
Knights know what to do, or at least which end is up.  As for the
Delphi Council, I must emphatically state that I do not consider them
to be the legitimate government of the United States of-"
    "Llewelyn, I don't believe I suggested anything to that effect,
did I?" came the flat toned interruption.
    Brenden collected himself, and a wry grin appeared on his lips.
"No, sir, I suppose you did not."
    The Director nodded at that.  He knew damn well that the Council
was a coup.  It was just a damned successful coup.  His Agency already
had several plans to restore the legitimate government in the US
after the Wars.  "Anyway, we have decided that HM's Government could
be aided likewise."
    An eyebrow was raised.  "Sir?"
    "Do you think that your Storm Knight group could perform a
reconnaissance mission for Her Majesty in one of the invading
realities?"
    It was phrased politely enough, but several of his friends were
now employed by M.I.6.  They could not refuse -- and if half the
group went, the others would, of course, follow.
    "Absolutely, sir," responded the former CIA spook, allowing a
trace of arrogant pride to enter his voice.
    "Jolly good, jolly good," acknowledged the Director.  "Be back
here tomorrow at 1400 for a briefing.  The secretary can tell you on
your way out where it will be held."
    "Of course, sir.  By your leave then, I'll go inform the others."
    The Director nodded.  "Right.  1400 tomorrow, then."

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                               ACT I
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SCENE 1:
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    The bow of the cargo ship Littorio cut the waves of the crystal
clear Mediterranean Sea, and Brenden watched the green, white, and
orange Italian flag snap in the breeze.  The wind was off the port
quarter, and, with its aid, the ship was able to exceed its usual
eight knots.
    Dr. R. Hannibal Smith, Nile Archaeologist Extraordinaire, was
sitting in front of the superstructure, his back against the
bulkhead.  He was whistling something slightly out of tune as he
oiled and cleaned his rifle.
    Most out of place, of course, was Miss Elspeth Hyde-White.  The
Victorian girl usually had the company of Father Hardy, but the
Sacellum priest had left for South America after performing Brenden's
wedding in London.

    Brenden smiled, looked down at the ring on his finger, and thought
of Alice back in London.  She was Victorian, too, and quite a capable
woman.  Brenden wondered briefly if she hadn't been working some sort
of subtle reality storm on him.  The grizzled field spook happily
married to a proper Victorian Lady.  And himself acting like a
Victorian husband, at that!  He had pleaded her to stay behind while
he was gone.  And, of course, she had agreed -- because he was her
husband, and she was happy to be somewhat stress free for a change.
This was a good thing for a werewolf.
    But, being married to one Victorian were-creature did not give
him great insights into dealing with another. He always felt slightly
uncomfortable around Elspeth, perhaps because she did not seem to
quite fit in anywhere -- understandable given her background, but
Brenden always felt as though he should _do_ something about it.
What, he didn't know.
    But now Elspeth just stood somewhere as far out of the way as
possible, in those uncomfortable looking petticoats.  She was trying
not to stare at Kyushu, the Priest of Palan, meditating on the
fo'c'sle.
    And this group was going to the Empire to locate one of Mobius's
biggest Weird Science centres.  M.I.6 had gotten word of it through
an unnamed Nile contact.  They changed a satellite track and, sure
enough, about seventy miles north of Thebes there was a walled
compound in the middle of the desert.  Brenden and the others had
been sent aboard the Littorio to get into Alexandria, and the captain
had, just this morning, given them the name of their next contact, to
be met in Cairo the afternoon after they made port.
    The group was a little smaller than usual.  Alain, the elven
sorceress, was still off studying, and couldn't be reached.  Dame
Anna had made a trip back to resistance community in Cicero, and had
yet to return.  So it was the four of them.
    A voice called down from the spotting top.  "Ship, bearing red
zero nine two!"  It was a beautiful, clear day, with visibility all
the way to the horizon, so it was no wonder the lookout had spotted
her before the radar did.
    The captain came out onto the bridge wing with a pair of
binoculars.  "What do you make of her?"
    "Tanker, sir."
    The captain nodded.  Don, radio that ship."
    The exec spoke briefly into the radio.  "She's a tanker alright,
Skipper.  Turkish registry, and on course for Alexandria."
    The sun crawled across the sky, and the Turk ship hovered out
near the horizon.  Brenden was talking with Hannibal on deck later
that afternoon.  The two were good friends, and had known each other
almost since the beginning of the Invasion.  After all, Brenden had
been in Egypt when the Pharaoh's bridge had dropped.  And Hannibal
had been his best man.
    Suddenly, Brenden was alert, and his head snapped up and looked
around.  Kyushu was searching for something as well.  Hannibal
produced a pair of binoculars from a hand-tooled leather case, and
with a sweep over the port beam, said, "Look!"
    They now realised that what had grabbed their attention was the
sound of a far away explosion.  A pillar of smoke was rising from the
Turkish tanker.  Brenden made for the bridge.  "Captain!"
    "I saw it.  Helm, steer for that ship, so we can lend a hand.
Don

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>>                                         wynne.c.j@p9955.wlu.edu  >>
==  Colin J. Wynne                                  - or -          ==
<<                                      wynne.c@fs.science.wlu.edu  <<
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