AEGIS Tales

by Todd Downing

  Contents

  Introduction

  Where the Red Ghoul Grows

  The Spirit Was Willing

  The Pugilist

  Long Live the Tsar

  Last Call for a Ghost

  The Shanghai Incident

  Mind Mists

  A Valkyrie in Repose

  The Veiled Lady

  Ukungu

  About the Authors

  Introduction

  by Dan Heinrich

  As long as I have known Todd Downing, which is a couple of years more than a double handful by now, he has had an idea for a retro pulp adventure saga with airships and evil mystics and two-fisted heroics. He called the idea Airship Daedalus. It was born out of his love for old pulp stories and his belief that with a few updates, they were perfect for modern audiences.

  Why did he think that? Because at its essence, pulp isn’t a genre but more of a style that can be applied across genres. The core points for pulp are that the stories are “vivid, swift with no words wasted” according to master story teller Lester Dent. (And Lester Dent, as the preeminent pulp writer of the ‘30s, knew of what he spoke.)

  Looking at how genre savvy modern audiences have become, Todd figured he could combine genres and, as long as he kept true to pulp’s key points, readers would gladly come along for the ride. So he created a world of super science, mysticism, lost civilizations and powerful artifacts. A setting where the crew of the most technologically advanced airship on the planet would have to face off against rocket-pack-wearing-proto-Nazi zombies.

  He turned Airship Daedalus into a comic, with great artwork by Brian Beardsley. (You can still read the original comics at www.airshipdaedalus.com.) Action, suspense and large doses of derring-do all wrapped up in a classic four-color strip.

  It was a true labor of love, so when Beardsley’s school schedule and interstate move halted production of the comic (sadly before the proto-Nazi-rocket-zombies made their appearance), Todd went looking for another way to tell his story. He found many. First were the throwback radio dramas. Then came the roleplaying game. Then came the novels. There is even a TV series pitch ready to go. (Not to be too shameless, but if you happen to know anyone who spends money to make television shows, Todd will absolutely take that call.) I’ve been pleased to have played smaller and larger roles in all of the iterations after the comic in part because the stories are ridiculously fun, and in part because Todd is a great collaborator.

  Which brings us to the cool thing about Todd Downing. Well, one cool thing. There are, in fact, many cool things about Todd. But for our purposes, we’ll focus on only one. He loves collaborating. He loves seeing what other artists can do with his stories. He loves it almost as much as creating stories himself. So here was this artist with a desire to collaborate, and he happened to have a great big sandbox. It was time to invite other kids to come over and play. And let me tell you we had a great time, because Todd made a damn cool sandbox.

  In the aftermath of the Great War, the sinister mystic Alistair Crowley accumulates power for his own diabolical ends. He creates a globe spanning group to carry out his dark desires. He calls them the Astrum Argentum—the Silver Star. A group of heroes sees the rising threat and moves to counter it. Using the means and know-how of founders Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, and Harvey Firestone, they form a shield to protect the innocent and call it AEGIS—the Allied Enterprise Group for International Security. Like the Silver Star, AEGIS needs a world-wide presence of agents, informants and the occasional helper. So while the Airship Daedalus novels follow Dorothy Starr and Jack McGraw and their adventures aboard the eponymous airship, these short stories get to explore that wider world.

  Todd’s challenge to us was to write 6,000-word stories using Lester Dent’s master outline as a guide. (In short, start the protagonist at a disadvantage, by 1500 words in they should be in deep trouble, by 3000 words the trouble should be even worse, by 4500 it should be dire then the last 1500 words resolve it all. Authors in this volume followed it to greater and lesser degrees, so you’re not reading formulaic stories.) He told us we could use settings and characters already established or create new ones, but they had to fit the larger parameters of the Daedalus world.

  The results? Well, in this volume you will travel from the bustling streets of Shanghai to the remote slopes of Mount Rainier, to the catacombs of Paris, to the underworld fight clubs of Cairo, to a land time forgot in the Congo, as well as the mean streets of New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. You will meet spectral vigilantes, psychokinetic detectives, Osiris death cults, bootleggers, the bogeyman, spies, kids with nothing left to lose, ghouls and rampaging dinosaurs. You’ll see heroes battle villains over stolen blueprints, drugs, illegal hooch, the souls of the living, the secret to immortality, and the simple need to survive.

  And you’re going to have a blast doing it, too.

  After you’re done, share it with your friends and then pester Todd for more. Because I can speak for all the authors in this volume in saying we want another invitation to the sandbox.

  Where the Red Ghoul Grows

  by Trish Heinrich

  Wanda “Wings” Jensen loved night flying. The feeling of being all alone in an ebony sky filled with stars, the air around her face, the hum of the Allison V-12 engine.

  She looked down at the quaint plots of orange groves and avocado trees, and small homes on straight, new streets that characterized Riverside, California. The sight of the new farms, so neat and loved, made her a little homesick for the Midwest farm she’d grown up on. When it had come time to find a place to settle down, Hollywood would’ve been the most convenient, but Wings hated the noise and constant press of people. So, when a friend told her about Riverside, she flew right over and was mesmerized by its simple beauty. In a few days, she found out that one of the larger orange farms in the area was looking for a crop duster. When she showed up, the Donaldson brothers almost hadn’t let her fly, but she convinced them otherwise and they hired her on the spot. It wasn’t a demanding job by any means, and it still allowed her to keep her stunt flying job in Hollywood. Wings loved that she got the best of both worlds: farms and daring acts of flying.

  Her stomach gave a loud, hungry gurgle and Wings wondered if she should’ve taken Doug Fairbanks up on his offer of dinner after all, and then shook her head. He was far too handsy with her.

  “Now if Mary had been around, that would’ve been different,” she said.

  Her mind immediately wandered from the large eyes and creamy skin of Ms. Pickford to someone less polished, but no less beautiful.

  “Maybe more so,” she murmured, feeling a blush rise to her wind-buffeted skin as she thought of the woman she’d fly through lightning to see.

  Tall and curvy, with smooth brown skin and wide brown eyes. Short, dark, wavy hair that showed a hint of red in the hot California sunshine. The curl of full lips when she smiled. A silvery laugh.

  Last time Wings had seen Gloria, her square face had been patched with grease from the engine she’d been repairing, a dirty bandanna around her head. And with all that, not one of the starlets Wings knew from Hollywood could hold a candle to Gloria.

  She’d shown up three months ago and somehow convinced the Donaldson brothers to hire her as the mechanic for their farm equipment and two small planes. From the moment Wings laid eyes on Gloria, she knew there had been a connection, but of what kind Wings couldn’t be sure. She’d tried to feel Gloria out, see how she felt. But Gloria had been elusive as hell, and, in spite of the attention she paid to Wings, there was no clear indication of how she really felt.

  Wings swallowed the ball of nerves in her throat. She was excited to see Gloria tomorrow, and not a little hopeful that maybe, just maybe this time she’d somehow find
out the answer to her question.

  As the small farm came into view, Wings frowned. It wasn’t late, yet there were no lights on in the large house and around the barn. Two quick flashes came from the orange groves and worry gripped her empty stomach.

  Gunfire.

  Wings banked the one-of-a-kind Douglas XA-2 and descended for a landing, but instead of using the well worn strip just outside the orange groves, she managed a bumpy landing at the other end of the farm next to the dirt road that led to the main house. She discarded her jacket and goggles, and grabbed a nickel-finish .45 automatic from the storage compartment. Taking a quick moment to make sure she had her brother's trusty lighter in her pocket, Wings took a deep breath and stepped out into the dark.

  Usually the sound of belching and angry voices punctuated the night as the Donaldson brothers ate their dinner and smoked their pipes. But tonight there was nothing but the chirp of crickets and hoarse song of frogs. The hair on Wings’ arm stood up, sweat tickled her back in spite of the cold air she’d just flown in.

  Crouching low, Wings walked with silent feet around the front of her plane and looked for whoever that gunfire had been for. She had a moment of worry for Gloria and then remembered the day when the middle Donaldson brother had tried to grab Gloria’s rear. The sound of his yelps as Gloria broke his nose was still fresh in her mind. Gloria could take care of herself.

  After a few minutes of intent looking and listening, Wings realized no one was near the farmhouse. She walked from behind the plane, body still ready for the slightest sign of trouble. As she neared the huge, red barn where Gloria worked on the engines, Wings saw four large, metal barrels. She walked closer and stopped a few feet away. All of them were tipped over, the remnants of some kind of red liquid on the dirt. It didn’t look like any fluid she’d ever seen used for an engine, and though the Donaldson brothers were grouchy, foul-mouthed men, they were far from slovenly.

  Wings stood up and looked around, straining for the smallest sound. She was about to inspect the dark farm house when the sharp clack of more gunfire reached her ears. In the thick darkness she could see the flash of the gun.

  Her short legs were powerful and it didn’t take long at full speed to reach the orange grove. The moon was half full, casting its pearly light on the tall trees set in neat rows. The tang of earth mixed with the sweetness of the blossoms on the trees, and the air was gentle against her skin. It was the perfect kind of night for a walk in the moonlight. Unless something dangerous was happening, of course.

  Wings jumped as a guttural moan pierced the calm night. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and instinct told her to get the hell out of there. But that simply wouldn’t do.

  So she walked in the direction of the moan, sweaty palm tight around the gun she held up and ready. Another moan sounded to her right, closely followed by one straight ahead and then to the left. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever heard before, and Wings thought she’d heard enough animals to know most of them. Whatever it was, it was big and in some kind of pain.

  “Or very angry,” she said as the moans began to have a bit of a growl to them.

  The trees rustled like someone was barreling through them. A dark figure came straight at her and Wings leveled her gun-

  “Gloria?” Wings said as the mechanic came into view, a gun in her hand as well. “What the hell—?”

  “Run!” Gloria cried, turning behind her to shoot at another hulking shadow right on her heels.

  Gloria grabbed Wings as she ran past, pulling on the sleeve of her shirt. “Run!”

  If the usually calm Gloria was fleeing like the Devil himself was pursuing, that was good enough for Wings. She felt fingers graze the back of her shirt as she took off at a dead run and made the mistake of glancing back.

  By the light of the moon she could clearly see the older Donaldson brother, Truman, covered in red, his eyes milky and his skin the texture of peeling leather.

  Wings yelped and shot the pistol at Truman’s chest. The impact sent him to the ground. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Wings could see another man, this one the middle brother Ban. He was running as fast as his paunch would let him, meaty face almost exactly like his brothers’.

  This time it was Gloria who raised the gun and fired, but she missed.

  “Aim for the head!” she shouted.

  Wings didn’t know why Gloria would want that, a head shot was the toughest of all, but she did it anyway. Her shot was low and hit Ban in the shoulder. It stopped him for a moment, and then he was after them again as if he hadn’t been hit at all.

  “What the hell―?” Wings wondered again.

  Kenny Donaldson appeared out of nowhere, snarling like an animal caught in trap and heading straight for Gloria.

  Wings raised her gun and fired.

  This time she didn’t miss.

  Kenny’s head exploded like a rotten melon and it took every ounce of self control Wings had not to vomit right there.

  A movement to her right caught Wings’ eye and before she could move completely out of the way, another man ran toward her. She didn’t know who the hell this one was, but he had the same red, peeling skin as the Donaldson brothers. He managed to collide with her hip, knocking her to the ground.

  “Damn it!” Wings said, as the gun flew from her hand.

  She rolled as the man grabbed for her and leaped to her feet. Gloria was on the steps of the farmhouse and reached down for her. Wings took her hand and jumped just as Gloria pulled with all her strength. Wings vaulted over the steps, just out of the reach of whoever the newest red man was.

  Gloria pulled the door open, slamming it behind Wings. The gun cabinet was by the kitchen, and Gloria didn’t hesitate to break the glass to get to the firepower.

  She handed Wings two Winchester shotguns and a box of ammo, a hiss of pain escaping her lips.

  “What’s wrong?” Wings asked as she looked down at Gloria’s shoulder.

  Where Brett’s blood had splattered on the shirt, there were now holes, as if someone had burned it away. The flesh underneath looked as if it had received the same treatment and was seeping blood.

  “What can do that?” Wings asked, shoving a handful of shells into her pants pocket.

  “It’s a long story,” Gloria said, the sound of heavy boots on the porch cutting off anything else she might have said.

  Gloria grabbed one of the shotguns and backed down the hall to the stairs. She crouched down under them, Wings following her lead.

  “Does it have anything to do with those barrels?” Wings whispered.

  “Yes,” Gloria loaded her shotgun. “Look, this is going to sound crazy, but I’m an agent for a group called AEGIS. They monitor a dangerous organization called the Silver Star―”

  “Wait, the Silver Star?”

  “Yes, and I know about your father. It’s one of the reasons I’m here. We thought the Silver Star might come after you as well. I was sent to make sure you weren’t attacked and also see if the Silver Star was recruiting out here.”

  Wings stared at Gloria, the words making clear why Gloria had paid so much attention to her all these months.

  And I thought... Just goes to show, never assume anything. Especially something like this.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Gloria’s large brown eyes softened. “I wanted to but...it was always safer not to.”

  Wings swallowed. “No I, uh, I understand. I’m just shocked, I guess.”

  “There’s something else,” Gloria said, as the front door suddenly shook. “I might be infected now with whatever did this to them.”

  “We have to get you to a doctor!”

  “Only the doctors at the AEGIS facility in San Diego can do anything for me. But if we don’t get out of here in time, you have to shoot me in the head.”

  Wings’ mouth fell open and her heart felt as if it had stopped beating. “Are you crazy? No, I’m not doing―”

  Gloria grabbed Wings’ shoulders and looked her in the ey
e. Her face was so close, Wings could feel her breath on her face and in spite of the danger about to bust in, Wings’ eyes fell, just for a moment, to Gloria’s lips.

  “Listen to me! Whatever this is, it’s contagious by bite or blood. I have to be able to rely on you to stop it from spreading. Please? Can I rely on you?”

  Wings held Gloria’s gaze. “Yeah, you can count on me.”

  Gloria’s shoulders collapsed, a quick sigh escaping.

  “So are they dead or...?” Wings asked, loading the Winchester.

  “Essentially, yes. But something is animating them, something...well, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  Before Gloria could respond, the door broke off its hinges, the hulking, red faced figure of Ban Donaldson coming through.

  “Try to get out the back,” Gloria stood. “I’ll cover you.”

  Wings grit her teeth. “I can help, you know!”

  Gloria fired the Winchester, jerking back just a little, the wounds on her shoulder opening. She yelped as she fired two more times, her shots hitting Ben in the chest and arm.

  Wings heard the windows in the kitchen break to her right and ran toward the kitchen door just as Truman barreled through it. He snarled, large hands grabbing onto her arm. She raised the gun to fire and something hit her from behind.

  It was Gloria. She fell against the wall, the sleeve of her injured shoulder covered in blood. Immediately, Ban came into view, a vicious snarl on his face.

  “Nice to see their personality hasn’t changed,” Wings said.

  Gloria was about to fire when Ban hit the rifle out of her hand.

  Wings tried to pull her rifle free from Truman’s grasp but the dead man had an iron grip on the gun.

  Well, he’s still a man right?

  She brought her knee straight up into Truman’s groin. He howled, hands releasing the rifle. Wings brought the barrel up and was about to pull the trigger when Gloria shouted for her stop.

  “The blood!” Gloria shouted, punching Ban across the jaw.