The Return of the Nyctalope

by Jean de La Hire

  “That’s amazing. What powers such a fantastic device?”

  “Frankly, we don’t know. Clearly, Rhea is powered by some mighty engines, buried deep inside the planet. There are two openings at the poles, but they’re protected by fierce maelstroms that are virtually unbreachable. We’ve asked the natives, but they have no written history. As far as they know, it’s always been like this. Several years ago, the Nyctalope’s grand-daughter, Xavière Saint-Clair, and Professor Henri d’Olbans tried to gain access to Rhea’s Core through the North Pole opening, but Xavière perished in the process. Henri has kept trying, but without success so far. In the end, our resources being limited, it was decided to wait until our colony had grown stronger.”

  Meanwhile, in the Control Center, the Nyctalope was continuing his investigation into the current state of affairs on Rhea.

  “So, the Nocturnals are now ruled from Qotwaa?” he asked Akira.

  “Yes,” responded the Mayor. “The city has grown mightily since you were last here. Its king is a smart but devious fellow called Kkal. I don’t trust him a bit, so I’ve posted an agent, an ambassador if you will, to keep us abreast of what he’s up to. His name is Ludo Corsat. He’s the grandson of your faithful retainer.”’

  “I never had a better a man in my service,” said Leo. “Let’s call him.”

  Soon, the face of a handsome young man with dark hair and brown eyes appeared on one of the screens.

  “Mayor Mitang is correct, Great Nyctalope,” he said. “King Kkal is definitely up to no good. There are rumors that he’s trying to gain access to Rhea’s Core.”

  Leo raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Bah! He’s a fool. He doesn’t have the technology for it.”

  “Not by himself, no. But the same rumors claim that he’s recently acquired an ally.”

  “Hmm. A new wrinkle. Do you know who this ally is?”

  “Not yet, Monsieur. But I’m working on it.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this, Monsieur Corsat. Learn everything you can, then report back to Olbansville.”

  “Yes, Great Nyctalope!”

  “And, Corsat, it wouldn’t do for you to end up in one of Kkal’s nasty, little dungeons.”

  “I understand, Monsieur.”

  The screen went dark. Saint-Clair turned to Akira.

  “This is serious. No one should be allowed to break into Rhea’s Core before we do. Especially not this Kkal. I’ve got to get to Qotwaa at once.”

  “I’ll have one of our new mygale battletrucks prepared. No need to take any chances. Will you travel alone?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Suddenly, the doors opened, and Gisèle d’Holbach entered, followed by a slightly embarrassed Marc de Ciserat.

  “Gisèle! What are you doing back here so soon?” asked Leo, surprised.

  “I wanted to see the Control Center. Is that so surprising?”

  “I’m sorry, Monsieur,” said Marc to the Nyctalope, apologetically. “I’ve tried to explain to the Mademoiselle that you were...”

  “It’s all right, Monsieur de Ciserat,” replied Leo, dismissively. “Mademoiselle d’Holbach is welcome everywhere in this colony.” Then, he turned towards the young woman, and added: “By the way, there’s been a minor change in plans, ma chérie. I’ve got to go to the ape-men’s capital city for a few days to take care of some details personally.”

  “Oh, good!” said Gisèle, excitedly. “That’s Qotwaa, right? I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Er, I’m afraid not, chère amie. This is something I’ve got to do alone.”

  Gisèle frowned and her blue eyes darkened.

  “Don’t be absurd, Leo! Of course, I’m going with you. That’s one of the reasons I came here in the first place, remember?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow it. Not yet, anyway.” Leo marked a pause. “Besides, it’ll be terribly dull. You’ll find things here much more entertaining. Marc can show you the hills of Chunda and...”

  “Don’t patronize me, Leo Saint-Clair,” said Gisèle in a low, but unmistakably dangerous tone. “You forget who I am. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”

  But the Nyctalope stood his ground.

  “Please, Gisèle, don’t be difficult. I promise, as soon as I take care of these loose ends, I’ll send for you.”

  He then got up and walked towards the door, gesturing to Akira.

  “Show me to that battletruck, Monsieur Mitang.”

  What he didn’t notice was Gisèle muttering under her breath: “We’ll see about that...”

  Chapter V

  Flight Into Nowhere

  Claude Marécourt was afraid.

  Since the scientist had joined the organization of the New Fifteen, he had come to realize that it was not a harmless club of benevolent do-gooders, but an implacable machine designed to serve only the aims of one man, its leader, the mysterious Koynos.

  And what Koynos’ purpose was, no one knew

  After he had joined the New Fifteen, Claude had been witness to a particularly merciless execution. One of the scientists, the former No.8, a small, meek Englishman, had either decided that he could make more money selling the organization’s scientific secrets to an American corporation, or he was afraid to go into space, perhaps both. Somehow, Koynos had gotten wind of the man’s treachery, and before No.8 could leave Switzerland, his throat had been slit by the fearsome No.4, Koynos’ executioner, a giant of a man named Malterre. Then the body had been vaporized in one of the base’s generators.

  Koynos is going to kill me, thought Marécourt. There’s no telling what kind of damage that explosion might have caused…

  The young scientist walked briskly down the metal corridors, trying not to attract any unwelcome attention. At the end of the base was a vast hangar where he knew he could “borrow” a travel-sphere, a transparent spherical vehicle with a built-in gyroscope, which could roll over any surface and travel at great speed. The crew had nicknamed them “hamster balls” because, once inside, one felt a little like one of those friendly rodents.

  I’ve got to get out of here, thought Marécourt, as he entered the hangar. Fortunately, it was deserted. Maybe I can get to Olbansville? Somehow, they’ll get me off this horrible planet...

  Marécourt got into one of the hamster balls and started its magnetic engine. A faint vibration ran through the vehicle while the gyromotors came to life. He then remotely activated the opening of the great metal door, revealing the vastness of the great northern desert outside.

  Suddenly, a man entered the hangar. Marécourt shuddered because he had recognized the imposing silhouette of Malterre.

  “Going out for a spin, No.9?” asked the giant. “Could I see your pass?”

  Instead of obeying, Marécourt pushed the starter button on the gyrosphere which zoomed towards the hangar door, almost running over Malterre.

  “Marécourt’s lost his mind!” shouted the giant into a communicator on his shoulder. “Alert!”

  Claude drove off into the desert. Malterre pulled out a gun and fired a shot. The bullet hit the gyrosphere, apparently causing no damage.

  The vehicle quickly disappeared over the horizon towards the south.

  “ST-1 to Oxus! Emergency!” shouted Malterre into his communicator.

  The Oxus was gliding through a canyon. Frederic de Soto, No.2, heard Malterre’s report and immediately called his master.

  “No.2 to No.1, do you hear me? I’m afraid I’ve got more bad news, Koynos.”

  Inside his tank-like vehicle, the leader of the New Fifteen picked up the communication.

  “What is it this time, Frederic?”

  “Young Marécourt’s panicked. He must’ve been afraid you would blame him for the explosion, so he’s run away.”

  Koynos swore silently under his breath, then replied:

  “Go after him. If he falls into the Nyctalope’s hands before I’m ready, our entire mission here will be jeopardized.”

  “Why don�
�t we just let him go?” asked de Soto. “After all, Marécourt knows nothing of your plan.”

  “Maybe so, but Saint-Clair is no fool. If he gets holds of Marécourt, it won’t take him long to get the full picture.”

  “Even so, what could he do? The ones you serve are beyond even his powers…”

  “I learned the hard way to never underestimate the Nyctalope, No.2. No, my friend, find Marécourt and get him off Rhea before he causes us any more headaches.”

  “Understood, No.1. I’ll start the search immediately!”

  The Oxus left its position and zoomed off.

  “And, Frederic, when you find Marécourt, don’t be too harsh on him,” added Koynos, before shutting the comlink.

  Chapter VI

  The Dastardly Digger

  Once his mind had been made to go to Qotwaa, the capitol of the Nocturnals in person, the Nyctalope moved quickly.

  Olbansville was located in the southern hemisphere, east of Lake Flammarion; Qotwaa was in the northern hemisphere, westward, beyond the Mariposa Mountains. For a trip of that magnitude, Saint-Clair had commandeered Olbansville’s mightiest vehicle, the mygale, an all-terrain battletruck which could move on wheels, tracks and even eight artificial legs like its spidery namesake. It was the size of a Greyhound bus, powerfully armed with cannons and electroguns, and even came equipped with a small medibloc.

  Leo had been traveling for a day and a half, staying in regular contact with Olbansville hourly, when he heard a small, creaking noise coming from the back of the vehicle.

  Grabbing his gun, the Nyctalope left the control module and walked down a narrow central corridor leading towards the pantry.

  “All right, whoever you are, come out!” he said menacingly.

  The lid of a large, trunk-like wicker basket, which was supposed to contain gifts for the Rheans Leo was planning to meet, opened and Gisèle d’Holbach’s somewhat embarrassed face emerged.

  “Gisèle! I ordered you to remain in Olbansville!” said Leo, indignantly.

  “You don’t control me, Monsieur Saint-Clair! No one gives me orders. Not even you!”

  “How did you manage to find your way in here?” asked Leo.

  “Easy,” replied Gisèle, smiling. “I asked that handsome young officer of yours.”

  “You mean, de Ciserat? I’ll wring his neck when I get back!”

  “Don’t be silly. He’s a smart young man. He only wanted to be helpful.”

  “Ha!”

  Then, Leo reconsidered the situation. While he was annoyed that Gisèle had disobeyed his orders, he was nevertheless happy to have a companion for the long and most likely boring journey to Qotwaa. Besides, he was secretly proud of his status as “King of the Night” and would enjoy showing the wonders of what he thought of as “his planet” to the young woman. So he said:

  “As always, I’m impressed by your resourcefulness. Now the question is, what am I going to do with you?”

  Gisèle climbed up and out of the basket and started walking towards the control module.

  “Since you can’t send me back, you might as well enjoy my company. Besides, I’m pretty talented, as you well know,” she added in a flirtatious tone.

  The Nyctalope smiled in spite of himself.

  “I guess it’s pointless to argue.”

  Half-a-day later, the mygale had crossed the equator and was moving along a row of giant mounds, not unlike African termite hills.

  “This mygale of yours is very impressive,” said Gisèle, sitting in the co-pilot’s chair, looking at the controls.

  “It was especially designed to travel across the surface of Rhea. I’m planning to reach Choon Ya tomorrow; that’s where I’ll make contact with Jaffa M’Deni, one of my best agents among the Diurnals.”

  “The bat people, right?”

  “Yes. You’ll see, they’re quite a sight.”

  Leo then grabbed Gisèle’s hand and took it in his.

  “I must admit, I’m not unhappy to have you here. This might turn into a fun trip, after all.”

  “Uh-uh,” smiled Gisèle, familiar with Leo’s romantic moods. “I can see your concern from here… But seriously, what’s so important about this trip to Qotwaa?”

  “I can’t tell you yet,” said Leo, all business again. “If Rhea has been invaded by strangers… It needs investigating…There are secrets that must be protected...”

  “Secrets? What kind of secrets?”

  “Secret secrets,” replied Leo, evasively.

  Gisèle frowned, but didn’t have time to speak up. A sharp blow from outside had just shaken the mygale which stopped dead in its tracks.

  “What’s happening?” asked the young woman.

  “I don’t know,” said Leo. “We seem to be under attack. Let’s take a look.”

  The Nyctalope looked at a screen, then exclaimed:

  “Damn! We’ve stumbled across a Dastardly Digger!”

  The Dastardly Digger, a hulking figure of a giant, had just thrown a rock at the vehicle. It was obviously intended as a warning shot, because he returned to digging inside the nearest mound, chewing on something abominable.

  The Nyctalope started the vehicle again, hoping to avoid conflict. But the Digger pulled his head out the mound and turned to look back at the mygale.

  He looked like a cross between the two Rhean races: he had the bulk and savage red eyes of the Nocturnals, and the claws and wings of the Diurnals. He also sported a deadly row of razor-sharp fangs, which gleamed into the pale rhean “sunset.”

  “He must think we’re after his larder,” said Leo.

  “His what?”

  “Dastardly Diggers—a loose translation of the term used by the natives—are mutants who feed on the mummified bodies piled in those mounds. According to Rhean history, they were exterminated during the last Great Crusade that saw the two races join forces to get rid of the brutes. It’s one of the most exciting moments in Rhean history, and the subject of many operatic songs amongst the Diurnals.”

  “Yuck!” said Gisèle, making a face. “That’s disgusting.”

  “True. But in a world like Rhea, certain ecological balances need to be maintained—even if it means offending our more refined sensibilities.”

  Leo straightened up in his chair.

  “I’m afraid he won’t let us through without a fight.”

  “I don’t mind. He’s a repulsive brute!”

  The Dastardly Digger roared and rushed to attack the mygale. The vehicle shot a powerful explosive shell which hit the creature’s chest bull’s eye and caused it to fall to its knees.

  “Maybe now he’ll leave us alone,” said Leo, his hope tempered by skepticism.

  The mygale turned and began to slowly drive away. But the Dastardly Digger got back to its feet, roared again, and struck a powerful blow to the vehicle’s back, causing it to shudder and stop.

  “Aie! Can’t... you do... something?” said Gisèle.

  “I’m trying,” replied Leo, pushing buttons wildly.

  The Dastardly Digger now struggled with the mygale’s back, trying to pull it open like an oyster.

  “We’re in luck,” said Leo. “None of the hydraulics have been damaged!”

  Suddenly, the mygale’s eight artificial legs sprang from the underbelly of the armored vehicle and lifted it up in the air.

  “Our hairy friend is in for a bit of a surprise,” said Leo.

  A powerful bolt of electricity fired by one of the electroguns at the back of the mygale forced the Digger to release its hold on the vehicle. Screaming, the creature fell onto the desert sand. Then the mygale reared up and, like a mule, delivered a powerful kick to the Digger’s head.

  “That should take some of the wind out of him,” said Leo.

  “I don’t know,” said Gisèle, studying the monster on one of the screens. “He doesn’t look that winded to me.”

  Indeed, the Dastardly Digger now picked up a big rock that had been lying on the desert floor, and prepared to throw it at
the mygale.

  “Uh-oh. It looks like I was right.”

  The Digger threw the rock, but the mygale fired another explosive shell which shattered it in mid-air.

  Now, the two combatants circled, carefully observing each other.

  “What now?”asked Gisèle.

  “I’ve got to end this,” said Leo. “We don’t have time for...”

  Interrupting the Nyctalope, the Dastardly Digger roared and again threw itself at the mygale, encircling the vehicle in a crushing armlock designed to crush it. But Leo fired two more shells from the right and the left cannons that hit the monster’s arms, forcing it to release them.

  By now, the Digger’s face showed severe strain, and its body was bleeding profusely from multiple places. Leo thought that at least one of the creature’s arms had been broken by his last attack. The Digger studied the mygale warily for what seemed to be a long time.

  “We can’t take much more of this,” said Leo, checking on the damage.

  Suddenly, the Dastardly Digger straightened up, let out one final mighty roar, and thumped his chest with his fists like a gorilla. Then, he turned around and, after a last hate-filled glance at the mygale, walked away from the fight.

  “Oof! I guess he had his fill after all,” said Leo, wiping sweat off his forehead.

  “I wish I’d had your mygale back when I was running guns in Mali,” said Gisèle, admiringly. “It would have come in handy.”

  She then snuggled closer to the Nyctalope.

  “Yes, I’m quite proud of it,” said Leo. “A real engineering feat.”

  “Let’s not talk about engineering,” said the young woman, beginning to undo Leo’s top collar buttons. “That fight was something, wasn’t it? I’m sure your Jaffa what’s-his-name won’t mind if we’re a little late...”

  She kissed the Nyctalope passionately.

  Chapter VII

  The Perils of Choon Ya