From: "Colin J. Wynne"  <WYNNE.C@fs.sciences.WLU.EDU>
Subject:      Mission in the Nile Empire, the real version!
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 23:26:21 GMT

I'm sorry about that.  My system crashed while sending that last post
out.  Here (hopefully) is the whole thing.

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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, anything on the radio?"
    The Exec shook his head.  "They squawked something just before
the explosion.  Now, nothing."
    The captain frowned severely.  "Llewelyn, have your people put on
the crew clothes I gave you."
    "Yes, Captain."
    Ten minutes later, the group was back on deck.  Elspeth felt
positively obscene in those denim pants.  How shameful the people of
this Core Earth were; but, maybe being forced to partake in their
'culture' was punishment for the weighty sins on her soul.  She
clutched the crucifix about her neck and prayed to God for
Forgiveness.  She was only a female, but He might listen anyway.
Father hardy seemed to think He would.  The priest was a good man,
but Elspeth always tried so hard not to inflict her disgraceful
company on him when he was around.  But, Lord in Heaven, he was
usually the only _civilised_ person around!
    The captain was on the bridge wing again.  "All hands!" he called
down to the dozen or so people on deck.  "It'll be about three and a
half hours until we are in the vicinity of the tanker."
    Hannibal stood tall at the bow, his rifle barrel clutched in his
hand, and the wind whipped the brim of his battered leather fedora.
Elspeth still looked and felt uncomfortably out of place, and Kyushu,
too, seemed slightly ill at ease.  Brenden stayed near the bridge.
    After thirty minutes of steady movement and little conversation,
the spotter's voice called out again.  "Ship, bearing green oh oh
two!"  Several pairs of binoculars were in motion before he had even
finished.
    Hannibal didn't know what to make of the sight that filled his
view.  Brenden, unfortunately, had a good idea.  Coming out of the
billowing smoke of the wrecked ship was a vessel -- probably 200 feet
long, and fifty at the beam -- a hydrofoil, moving at some
godawful speed.
    "Full stop," ordered the captain.  "We won't be outrunning them."
     Nobody was particularly surprised as the range closed and the
circuit encrusted cross atop the conning tower resolved itself.
    Brenden swore.  "Captain, do you want us below decks?"
    He pondered.  "No.  Malraux and Mobius have no love lost for each
other.  If they attack us, it won't be because you are on board."
    Brenden nodded.  Up front, Hannibal watched as the warship closed
rapidly under a thousand yards.  Littorio was now holding station, and
the hydrofoil ate up the distance between them.
    When the distance passed through three hundred yards, Dr. Smith
tried to discretely deposit his rifle behind the railing.
    Hannibal blinked hard as a bolt of plasma slammed into the side
of the cargo ship, a bare ten feet below where he was standing.
Though the deck bucked sharply, he held his stance.
    A voice boomed across the water.  "In the name of the Lord and
the CyberPope, lay down your weapons and prepare to be boarded!"
    Over the next few minutes, the hydrofoil settled down onto the
water, and pulled along the Littorio's starboard side.  Grapples and
boarding ladders were attached, and three of the ship's four Naval
Issue GWI GodFire plasma cannons were trained at the helpless cargo
ship.  The fourth, on the CyberShip's starboard side, was out of arc.
    Two ChurchPolice, wearing Armour of God, and toting GodBeam
rifles, boarded Littorio, making for the bridge.  While the rest of
the party was still on deck, Brenden stood by the captain, and
listened to the conversation.
    "What cargo do you have aboard?" demanded one of the boarders.
    The captain considered, and responded truthfully.  "Bulk foods,
cloth, some machine parts.  Not much else."
    The second Churchman listened to a hidden speaker momentarily,
then said, "You will take me to the hold for an inspection."
    They were gone for several minutes, while the other Churcher and
Llewelyn exchanged menacing glances, Hannibal kept an eye on the
CyberShip, and everyone else tried to guess what would become of
them.  Eventually, the captain returned, and the two CyberPolicemen
descended the ladders, and returned to their own ship.  Members of
the Littorio's crew exchanged confused glances as the grapples and
boarding ladders were released.
    Then all confusion was ended.  The magnified voice blared from
speakers on the hydrofoil.  "Your cargo has been deemed unworthy for
transport to His Holiness, the CyberPope.  Your ship will be
destroyed."
    Hannibal's rifle was in his hand almost immediately.  A well
placed shot struck the forward gunner, but riccocheted harmlessly off
of his armour.  The two bow gunners unloaded their plasma guns.  One
singed the hair on Hannibal's arms, while the other blew a hole in
the side of the Littorio.
    The captain rang the engine room and called out, "Hard a-
starboard, and full speed ahead!"
    As the deckplates rumbled with the power of the huge marine
diesels, Brenden pulled a grenade and, with a good throw, placed it
behind the CyberShip's port quarter gunner.  Dazed though he was, the
ChurchPoliceman managed to get off a shot, which missed Llewelyn
completely, holing the smokestack.
    With the distance between the two ships slowly increasing,
Hannibal mounted the railing and leapt, landing precariously near the
enemy's forward gunner.  Surprised by the move, the Policeman's
bared slashers only gouged chunks out of the deck.
    Kyushu called out for the power of the Mediterranean's winds and
waters, but the anti-material spirits were being fickle.  Shaken,
Kyushu had no choice but to grab the rifle left behind by Dr. Smith,
and open fire.  Four other shots echoed his, as one of the mated
finished handing out rifles to the crew.
    The number two gunner put more plasma into the weakening cargo
ship's side, while the superstructure above Brenden's head was melted
into bubbling slag.  Bringing the barrel of his submachinegun on-
line, he opened fire at the quarter gunner.
    Then, a flash of orange and black covered the distance between
the ships, landing on the second gunner with a vicious snarl.
Elspeth, the were-tiger, had joined the battle.  Visibly frightened,
the gunner could barely fight back.  A feline yeowl of mayhem and
delight sounded above the din of battle.
    The starboard gunner, unable to bring the GodFire around, climbed
the superstructure; but as he squeezed the trigger on his laser
rifle, the Everlaw of One asserted itself over him, and his
traitorous CyberWare froze him in place.
    Kyushu put a bullet into Hannibal's foe, wounding him.  But the
Churchman and the archaeologist were deadlocked in hand-to-hand
combat.
    Brenden sprayed more bullets into the CyberShip.  His target
released the grips of his plasma gun, and, holding his CyberCross
aloft, called down the Wrath of God on his heretical attacker.
    The air around Brenden coalesced into reeking bubbles of some
acidic substance.  The operative dove out of the way, but several hit
him, hurting him slightly.
    Then the captain of the CyberPapal vessel stepped out of the
bridge, and brought the power of his god down on the unholy were-
tiger.  Elspeth swiped a paw across the gunner she had attacked,
shattering part of the armour and drawing blood.  Dazed, he fell
backwards.  But then the CyberGod answered the captain's prayers to
the tiger's vexation.
    Hannibal found that he was about to be on the receiving end of
the wicked looking slashers, and took an unexpected route out.
Ignoring his assailant, he locked eyes with the captain, and smiled.
    Elspeth was thrown to the deck as the reality storm sprang into
being over her head.  Her opponent, already wounded, was flung
overboard.  Weird, deformed clouds gathered around the forward
gunner.  A leering demon showed its face from within and struck
viciously.  The Policeman pitched overboard, daylight showing clearly
through the gaping hole in his chest.
    The fourth gunner went over, too, trailing blood from where a
mangled section of superstructure had ripped across his arm.  But the
CyberCaptain was strong, and Hannibal felt the energy being leeched
from his body.
    On the Littorio, the captain had reversed his turn, and was
trying to open the distance between the two vessels.  The storm tore
at the damaged hull, opening it wide.  Seawater was flooding into the
rents in her side.
    Strange shapes and odd-coloured lightning danced around Brenden,
casting him into a bulkhead.  Consciousness slipped away, and he
slumped to the deck.  Kyushu saw this, and ran to help, but the chaos
of the storm battered him into oblivion, too, before he was halfway
there.
    Hannibal screwed his eyes shut, throwing all of his concentration
into thoughts of home, on Terra, and the way things were _supposed_ to
be.  The _true_ ways of the world, where CyberWare didn't function,
where...
    The CyberCaptain shrieked as Hannibal locked him into a swirling
maelstrom of red and blue energy.  The tables were turned, now, and
he knew that energy was flooding into his opponent in the leather
fedora.
    With no more opponents about, the tiger howled and leapt for the
Littorio.  She landed with a splash in the sea, and swam for one of
the holes in the cargo ship that went right down to the waterline.
    The captain recovered, and forced the maelstrom back to more even
footing -- for now, he could hold things even.  And the undermanned
vessel drifted out from underneath the two combatants.
    Then the hydrofoil exploded!  A geyser of water sprayed up her
starboard side, and the bucking ship threw tons of water into the
crippled Littorio.  Elspeth swam harder, but another explosion broke
the vessel in half, plunging rapidly downward.  A gurgling scream was
quickly cut off as a Churchman was pulled down by the sinking ship's
vortex.  The tiger heaved herself into the hole, and sprawled across
the submerged deck inside.
    "Periscope off the starboard beam!" called a spotter, even as the
bow of the submarine began to break the surface.
    Suspended in midair, Hannibal focused all the power available to
him, and with a mighty surge of blue and red sparkling energy, the
maelstrom dissipated.  The helpless captain was caught in the throws
of CyberPsychosis as his limp form hit the water.  Hannibal landed on
the bow of the Pharoah's submarine Barracuda.  It was an ungainly
landing, but not bad considering the one hand he held firmly clamped
to his fedora.
    The submarine was something out of dreams, with her sculpted shape
and razorback ramming prow, the glass bubbles like malevolent eyes
athwart her bow.  The conning tower was all curves and exquisite
brasswork.  As Hannibal stood in the middle of the Ankh on her deck,
the hatch opened, and a Nile officer came forth with a megaphone.
"Freighter Littorio, prepare to be escorted to Alexandria harbour!"
    Inside the Littorio's hold, a tiger's fur rippled oddly, fur
retracting and smoothing, limbs changing and reforming.  The muzzle
disappeared, and the ears grew smaller.  Orange fur became long,
black hair.  Rising to her feet, Elspeth was mortified to discover
that her body had not yet had time to adjust to those awful crew
clothes.  She stood, knee deep in water, with naught but her bloomers
and one of those completely inadequate brassieres that her friend
Anna had convinced her to start wearing.  Her face aflame with
embarrassment, she hid behind a crate as the Littorio's crew entered
to inspect the damage, with the timing available only to sailors long
away from home, in the vicinity of a pretty, half-naked woman.


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