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Once A Wolf Ch. 01

By: AngelCherysse



“But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame 
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same; 
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail, 
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.”

-	Rudyard Kipling



Mikey Blair had to pee. He had been putting it off for the past twenty minutes, not wanting to get out of his snug, warm bunk. It was cold out there in comparison. He really liked summer camp, liked being in the woods of northern Wisconsin, away from his folks and the dull sameness of Elmhurst. But all the activities and running around always made him really thirsty. He drank too much water, and it had to go somewhere. He usually got up at least once in the middle of each night, and it was time now.

He threw the covers off, rolled out onto the cold, hard wooden floor, and padded softly towards the cabin door, to the sound of crickets outside and a lot of snoring inside. Once out the door, He went up the path a ways before turning into the woods. He was supposed to go to the latrine but that was a couple hundred yards away. That was too far; he couldn’t hold it that long. Even so, he wanted to make certain he was far enough away from the cabin that his cabin mates wouldn’t smell it in the morning. That would have been almost as bad as peeing the bunk.

The angel came for him just as he was finishing his business. Mikey wasn’t particularly religious – never had been – but he knew this apparition was an angel. She had to be an angel; only God made titties like those! She wasn’t dressed like an angel, though. The child expected white robes, wings, and halo and there was none of that. This was… scarier. Maybe she was an avenging angel. Whatever she was, she did have a really nice smile, dimples and all – except for her eyes. They looked sad, tired, like she had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders for a long, long time.

The angel had magically whisked Mikey out of the woods and into a place he couldn’t begin to describe, the kind of place that only a child’s imagination can truly do justice. It wasn’t Heaven; this was better, like a spaceship in the movies! There he stood, in this magical place, confronting this gorgeous vision of a woman - with his shorts around his ankles. He was so embarrassed, he wished he had peed the bunk instead. The angel was good about it. She bit her lower lip and only smiled a little as the child pulled his shorts up. The beautiful angel with the sad, tired eyes took Mikey’s hand, sat him down, and told him a story. Before returning him to the woods, the angel made him promise: never again!

The First Day

She had been feet-dry on that desert rock only six hours. They had clashed twice already. These had been probes, really. They were feeling each other out, testing for strengths and weaknesses. Reconnaissance. That was nothing new for her; she had practiced the craft for a long, long time. 

At six feet, she was no Shrinking Violet. Still, he was bigger, broader. Not Shaq-sized, by any means; but really solid. He was strong, too. Two hours on, her jaw still ached – and that had been a glancing blow. She had seen the sweeping roundhouse right from her peripheral vision and had spun in the opposite direction, away from the punch – almost. The last time she had seen that many stars had been… well, a long time ago. But that had been on another planet.

The Golganthan, as the Praetor had called him, was of porcine evolution, but not like any friendly farmyard Hampshire hog. Forget about Porky Pig, too. This one was more like a surly, three-hundred-pound Arkansas Razorback with tusks to match. Still, he was bipedal, intelligent, and she had learned to stay out of range of those massive arms. His bulk made him slower and his limbs were jointed. That was one point of vulnerability, as her spinning foot sweep had proven. How’s your head, Sparky? If you want to be King of this Hill, you’re gonna have to work for it.

Who gave a rat’s ass about this place? It was just another nameless, faceless battlefield, like all the rest. It was the ‘hill’ back home she was worried about. The rules of the contest were simple. There were two of you; one from Earth, one from Golgantha.

You fought. You won – or you died. The catch was, if you died, so did your planet – the whole planet, and all life on it. Gee, no pressure there…. Oh, by the way; the entire Arcturan Empire was watching you, real-time. Offices and stores closed. They even let the kiddies out of school. Wasn’t that special?

The Praetor had shown her the real-time holographic image of the starship, in orbit high above Arcturus Prime. The engineer in her admired its clean, elegant lines. It was a beautiful ‘styling statement’ – if you ignored fact that it was designed to destroy planets. The ship had its own portal generators; it could be anywhere in the charted Universe in moments. The Praetor assured her the coordinates for Golgantha – and Earth – had already been plotted and locked into the cruiser’s mainframe. She had asked the Praetor what they called the ship. He told her “1jb29742GL385W9.” She glibly asked if they called it “1jb” for short. That hadn’t gone over well.

A contestant started with nothing. As you proved your worth, you gained access to food, medical kits, clothing and other logistical supplies, increasingly complex and lethal weaponry, even teammates. To her, it sounded like one of those wretched kids’ video games – or a bad episode of Star Trek. Apparently, the Arcturans ate this stuff up.

The Praetor had conducted a quasi-interview, asking her name, occupation and a little about herself, in order to introduce her to her ‘audience’. He had made a big deal about her being unemployed. Yeah, thanks, Buster; it’s a real joy for me, too. He then asked about the special significance of her middle name in her culture. What famous person or persons had carried that name? There were a few, she knew, but no one that really stood out. She asked what significance that might have? 

The Praetor avowed that in Arcturan culture, those who carried a famous middle name were thought to carry the qualities of that famous person, if not being the actual reincarnation. This was an especially popular tradition within their warrior class. She smiled sadly and shook her head, not really surprised this particular piece of macho bullshit extended beyond her own race. She observed out loud she thought that was the dumbest thing she had ever heard – which was probably not the smartest thing she had ever done. She started The Tournament with nothing but the clothes on her back – and the determination to win, no matter what.

In her initial inspection of the area, she had found a cave, which she now called ‘home’. An investigation of the cave itself had turned up a nearly endless maze of rear passages and chambers. One chamber had a running spring. She hesitated to drink from it without the proper testing equipment or even decon tablets. Still, she was thirsty and the Praetor had indicated The Arena would provide at least minimal life support. 

She decided to take a chance. She was rewarded with the coldest, slightly sweet water she had tasted in a long time. It was almost like Lake Michigan water, the way it had been in her childhood - before the ocean-going ships and industrial plants had polluted it. At least, she wouldn’t die of thirst. She wondered if her opponent (she thought he was male) had found similar accommodations and imagined he had. 

They had each taken their lumps in their two short, frenzied encounters. She had not dwelled on the minor injuries. With the help of her spirit guide, she would heal quickly. The Praetor contacted her, via holographic projection. He had complimented them both on their display of unarmed combat. She hadn’t really shown them anything; at this early stage, she didn’t want them to know what she was capable of.

They would each be granted two edged weapons; a sword and hand knife. All she had to do was ask and/or describe them, the Praetor had said, and they would appear. She should not bother asking for more lethal weaponry at this stage because it would not be granted. 

In addition, the Praetor had intoned, they would each receive one teammate of Arcturan choosing. It was an unusual move at this stage of the game, he related, but they were – how did you humans put it? – ‘tweaking’ the rules to make it more interesting. Yeah, right. C’mere, Bud; I’ll give you a ‘tweak’ you will NEVER forget! She could just imagine the kind of ‘teammate’ they were going to saddle her with, but she would worry about that when the time came. As for the weapons, that choice was easy….

Within moments of describing where to find it, her shinobikatana was there: forty-two inches overall, with long, cloth-wrapped handle, wide, square tsubo handguard, and a black saya scabbard that sheathed a straight, single-edged blade. Unlike others of its kind, this blade had been folded two hundred times during forging for additional strength, in the traditional samurai katana manner. 

Sharp? Oh, yeah. Flesh or bone made little difference; it was all in the technique. This was neither a ceremonial prop nor a decoration meant to hang over a fireplace. This was a working weapon whose predecessors had seen thirteen centuries of continuous service in the hands of other ronin. She had worked hard on developing her kobudo skills – but she wasn’t going to tell the Praetor that, either. 

Instead of a traditional tanto, she chose a more modern knife, one she had grown to trust through her years of service; the double-edged Gerber Mark II. The knife went on her belt. The customized harness on the sword’s scabbard allowed her to drape it diagonally across her back and secure it in place, allowing her to draw the sword smoothly over her left shoulder.

She felt the ripple in the fabric of space behind her. It was a portal opening and closing; she knew that from the experience of her own transport to this place. There was no mistaking that tingly, almost crawling sensation. She sensed, rather than saw the presence behind her. She didn’t know what it was, but it was alive.

No untrained human eye would have been able to comprehend the speed and grace of her movement. It was as though she had turned herself inside-out. One moment, she had been facing the cave’s entrance; the next, she was facing it’s inner recesses in the forward stance, back straight, back leg extended, sword held firmly in hand-over-hand grip, extended straight forward, edge parallel to the ground. That edge rested lightly against the side of his neck. Her surprise nearly equaled his. They stood there for several moments, openly gaping at each other.

Finally, he glanced sideways, and slightly down. 

“Thank you, but I have already shaven today.”

She flushed red and lowered, then spun the blade around to smoothly re-sheathe it over her shoulder. He dabbed at his neck, noting the thin trickle of blood. She fumbled for the cloth at her belt – and an apology. She offered him both.

“Um, sorry. I wasn’t expecting company so soon.”

“I’m rather glad you weren’t. I wouldn’t fancy the cauldrons of boiling oil streaming down from the parapets.”

Maybe she could convince him she had really bad sunburn; she was certainly red enough at that moment. Damn, this wasn’t like her one bit. She was never this nervous around men. 

Then again, this wasn’t just any man. She had only seen pictures of him before; film or videotape footage from the nightly news. He was even better-looking in person. She knew he was in his early twenties, just finishing college. He had opted for military service, in his family’s tradition, but had not yet reported for duty. That explained, in part, how he could be here now. He was tall, like her; slender, yet firm. That blonde hair and those steel blue eyes made him look so much like his late mother….

He had nothing to compare her to. He couldn’t remember seeing another woman like her, ever. He could tell the Platinum hair was fairly long, but she wore it tightly pulled back, rolled into a bun and clipped in place with a kind of clamshell-like contrivance that kept it firmly balled up. She was, what? Nineteen? Twenty? Flawless complexion, thin, high-arched eyebrows, huge, wide-set sapphire-blue eyes that pulled up and back at the corners, killer cheekbones over a model-chic indented mid-face, narrow, delicate nose, and wide, over-full lips. Her rare smiles flashed hints of the most gorgeous dimples at the corners of her mouth. There was something about her that was absolutely – magnetic.

He stood almost exactly eye-to-eye with her, but well over half her height was legs – and that body! She reminded him of one of those American exotic dancers - or one of Hajime Sorayama’s warrior women. He was more than a bit apprehensive. He was face-to-face with this stunning, sexy-looking woman with sword on her back and knife at her belt. He knew nothing about her - and his security detail was nowhere in sight. Old habits…. Still, he couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the vision before him.

She had felt like a deer frozen in oncoming headlights. Gradually, she became aware his focus had shifted. She followed the direction of his gaze to… dammit! Why did men always do that? You would think he had never seen a pair of EE’s before in his life! Being human, she sometimes forgot her body had been intentionally designed to elicit exactly that reaction. Her eyes narrowed. He felt the weight of her gaze and averted his. It was his turn to be embarrassed.

“My apology. That was inappropriate of me.”

She signed expressively. Her chest heaved.

“It’s OK, she avowed. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. Anyway, welcome to my nightmare.”

“Erm, thank you,” he professed. “I confess I am a little bit flustered by all of this. I was locked away in my room at college, studying for final examinations. Then, suddenly, I was here - wherever ‘here’ is – confronting a beautiful woman holding a sword to my throat. Usually, that doesn’t happen until at least the second date.”

She laughed. He did, too.

“So, where is ‘here’?” he inquired. “How did I get here – and why?”

“I can’t answer the first question,” she responded. “As to the second and third….”

She told him what she knew, as the Praetor had explained it to her.

The Tournament had a long, proud tradition on Arcturus Prime. Their Elders had decided on this action as a necessary replacement for generations of endless internecine, then interstellar warfare that had been draining their planet’s resources and population. They had stabilized the borders of the Arcturan Empire by naked force. Arcturus Prime itself basked within its planetary force field. With the ‘shields’ raised, the planet was impervious to all outside attack. Any planet incurring Arcturan displeasure received a visit from “1jb” – and was pulverized. So, the other planets toed the Arcturan line. With major conflict with the other worlds gone, the Arcturans had begun The Tournament to satisfy their collective bloodlust without turning on each other.

Originally, the contestants had been drawn from the war-like Arcturan race itself. They fought to the death, however long it took, and that was that. As time passed, that formula had gotten stale. They needed a new thrill to keep it fresh. Progress, and the introduction of Portal technology, had made that possible. They could instantly transport anything from any point in the Universe to any other point through a precisely-calculated ‘wormhole’ that could be opened and closed at will. The inclusion of portal generators on their spacegoing vessels – such as ‘1jb’ – rendered “warp drive” and other such concepts obsolete.

Now, the conflict was waged by representatives chosen from savage, emerging races culled from among the many that dotted the Universe. Previous military experience was acceptable – given Arcturan tradition, it was almost de rigueur – but current service was not. The Arcturans considered it more entertaining if the contestants were ‘average Joes’, not hardened professionals. A raw, undeveloped planet whose environment could provide at least basic life support for both contestants was chosen as the ‘arena’. 

All things in consideration, he took it rather well.

“Then we and these – Golganthans, you said? – were chosen at random?”

“They were. As I understand it, we – Humankind – were champions once before.”

“We’ve done this before?” When? I’ve never heard of it.”

“According to the Praetor, that was about two millennia ago, Earth time. I got the impression the last time had been a big laugh and they are ready for an encore performance.”

“Damn! They really intend to destroy Earth?”

“Only if we lose. I don’t intend to do that.”

“I should say not! So, these Arcturans just plucked me out of thin air?”

“The polite term would be ‘random chance’. The impolite term would be ‘blind, idiot luck’. I rather think bad luck on your part.”

She still couldn’t believe it herself. Of all the men in the world for the Arcturans to pair her with – if it was to be a man at all - they had selected this one. What were the odds? 

“Do you have any idea why they picked you?”

She sighed expressively.

“Since the last ‘Earther’ was male, they thought it might be amusing to see what a female of our species can do. Of course, the stakes will remain the same, win or lose.”

“Of course.”

“As for why me, as opposed to any other woman on Earth, well, I guess I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“That is a curious way of looking at it.”

“Perhaps, but I would rather be here, determining my own fate, than sitting at home while someone I don’t know has my life in their hands – and I am not even aware of it.”

“I see your point.”

There was a long, pregnant pause in the conversation.

“It’s going to be a little awkward,” she began. “I mean, your title….”

He shook his head.

“Don’t,” he reassured her. “I hear that all day, every day. To tell you the truth, I get fed up with it. There is a time and place for it and, apparently, this is neither. Since it appears to be just the two of us here, would you please call me Geoff? My family and friends do.”

“I would be honored, although you will have to forgive me from time to time if I call you Geoffrey. I rather like the sound of that.”

“Coming from your lips, I rather do, too.”

“You flatter me, Sir. Anyway, I’m Giselle.”

“Giselle? What an enchanting name! What is the rest of it?”

“Uh, Giselle… René Du Mont.”

“Then you are French? Or Québécois? I thought for certain you were American.”

“I am.”

“Then, this is your… stage name? I mean, you look like an actress.”

The corners of her mouth twitched upward.

“You could say that.”

“In any event, it is lovely and suits you.”

“Thank you, Your Roy… Geoff. I appreciate that.”

She had said it so matter-of-factly, as though she hadn’t even been aware of the change in her speech. Geoff immediately noted the broad vowels, clipped consonants and sibilant “c”. lifted an eyebrow.

“Why did you do that just now?”

“Do what?”

“That. The accent. It was like you turned a switch and suddenly, you sounded… well, British.”

She looked puzzled a moment. She shrugged her shoulders a little.

“Oh. I am sorry. It is just that, when I am around people, I tend to pick up their accents and inflections and begin using them. I am not attempting to mock you in any way. I just try to…blend in. I was taught to do that.”


Once A Wolf Ch. 01



“Then, you are an actress.”

The tiny smile reappeared.

“I suppose I am.”

She had transferred her belt knife to him, until he could acquire a more suitable weapon. Then again, he wasn’t trained, as she was. She would have to attend to that as well. It would not be possible to bring him up to her level in so short a time. She had trained five years in Japan with the Togakure Clan – after Mike… well, it was still difficult to think about. She and “Ajax” (his Dad had nicknamed him that) had been as close as two humans could be. He had been her inspiration, had given her everything that was his to give – including his sense of purpose. It had all been about two little words: Never again. Mike had been gone a long time. Now, Geoff was here. If she could instill in him even a small part of what she had learned, they would be doing well.

She went over the background of how they would approach this ‘mission’. They sat on the floor of the cave as they talked He sat very near her. She didn’t want to say anything, but she wished he would move back a bit. She found the nearness of him… unsettling. His smell was disturbing as well. No; “smell” was not the right word. His essence was disturbing, and seemed to permeate everything around her. Unbeknownst to the statuesque blonde, he was experiencing the same disquieting feelings about her.

She then ran him through some basic exercises with the sword and knife; proper stances, grip, some basic movements, offensive and defensive. In the case of the hand knife, which would be his weapon for now, she admonished not to hold it blade-forward. A quick opponent could knock it out of his grasp or take it from him. Instead, he should reverse the knife, shielding the blade along the underside of his forearm. Then, he would sweep the blade outward when he was slashing at his opponent. 

They set off for a ‘sweep’ of the area in the late afternoon. The sun had already lost much of its mid-afternoon intensity. She wanted to take him on a nice, easy patrol, just so he could get acclimated to the routine. Perhaps they could even pick up some good intel on their opponent. She worried the Golganthan – who would undoubtedly have his teammate by now – might also do the same. She didn’t really want to get Geoff involved in actual combat just yet, but they couldn’t hole up in the cave and outlast the bastards, either. As it happened, the Golganthans were the last of their problems.

As the sun dropped further, the sound began. It was a chirping sound, almost like a squeaky wheel. More precisely, it was like a thousand squeaky wheels, ten thousand, all chirping at once. The sound emanated from everywhere, and nowhere. Whatever it was, it was getting louder. They both looked around, trying to spy the source. Geoff climbed a little rise to get a better view of the surrounding terrain. Both swept the area with their eyes. Then the smell hit them. It was sharp, slightly metallic, and acidic. It had already become so strong she could actually taste it.

Geoff was behind her. She turned to face him. She could not believe her eyes. Her companion was sprouting a pair of antennae, one from each shoulder. As she watched in fascination, the antennae rose higher and higher over his head. They waved back and forth animatedly. Yet, he seemed completely oblivious to their presence. He simply gazed down at her, perplexed at the look of astonishment on her face. In horror, Giselle realized they weren’t rising from him; they were rising behind him!

She was on him in a flash. In one fluid motion, she planted both feet, grabbed his rugby shirt in her right hand and yanked hard. Geoff sailed over her right shoulder, tumbling head-over-heels down the embankment. Her left hand was a blur. Steel glinted brightly in the late afternoon sun. In six fluid battojutsu strokes, the towering blonde sliced through the antennae, mandibles, and front legs in order. The beast dipped forward and down, blind and crippled but far from helpless. All it had to do was fall on her and the game would be over before it had truly begun. On the seventh stroke, she whirled clockwise to her left, raised the sword over her head and slashed down, left to right. The massive, reddish-brown bulk and severed head collapsed as one - and were still. The corpse gushed dark green blood that brightened as it oxygenated.

Her entire response, from first move to last, had taken five seconds.

She wiped the blade clean with the cloth at her belt, and re-sheathed the sword. Then, she turned to her companion. He sat, sprawled, at the foot of the incline, staring up at her dumbly. He picked himself up, dusted himself off, and returned to her side. He stared down at the mass of … whatever it had been, then back at her in open amazement. 

“What is… was it?”

The words came to her then, as though she had just heard them for the first time. This was a different species, but she accurately identified the beast in the same matter-of-fact inflection Edmund Gwynne had used fifty years before.

“Solenopsis invicta,, of the order Hymenoptera. A fire ant.”

Geoff just stared at her as though she had said: “Howdy Doody”.

“No. No, no, no, no, NO! I know ants. I have seen ants. I have NEVER seen an ant eight feet long.”

“Ten. We were lucky; this looks to have been a minor worker. The major workers would be bigger still.”

Geoff snorted.

“Oh, well, thank the Lord for small favors! I feel so much better now. Do ants always bleed green blood?”

She had been puzzling over that very question since she beheaded the monster.

“No, they don’t.”

The sound continued, more frenzied than before. Giselle looked up at her companion, then slipped her arm through his.

“Let’s go. We won’t accomplish anything more here this afternoon and it would be a really bad idea to stick around right now.”

“So? What about tomorrow?” he demanded. “What will we do then?”

She was stunned by the sudden appearance of this particular beast, in this place and under these circumstances. A thought occurred to her - more like intuition. More than anything else, it was the green blood that had convinced her. She believed she already had the answer to that one.

“Nothing. They won’t be here.”

She avoided his gaze – and expression of utter incredulity. He almost missed the single word she uttered sotto voz.

“Cupraglobin.”

They returned to the cave and slaked their thirsts. The Praetor appeared to them. It was the first time Geoff had seen the holographic transmission. The young man spent a good three minutes ranting to the Arcturan about the ant, why they hadn’t been apprised of the Arena’s indigenous threats, his lack of substantial firepower, and how unfair it was for Giselle to have to shoulder the entire burden. Not once did he even imply it was unfair of them to have placed him there, in jeopardy, in the first place. In the end, all of it was for naught. The Praetor completely ignored him, in favor of his female companion.

There was food there, the Arcturan intoned. Additional non-combat supplies would be available on request and more advanced weaponry would be forthcoming as they racked up more points. All of Arcturus had been utterly stunned at the speed and skill with which she had dispatched her first challenge.

“What do you mean?” asked Giselle. “What ‘challenge’?”

“Ah, yes, the Challenges….”

To make it more interesting for the audience, the Praetor droned, the contestants would also face additional ‘challenges’, above and beyond those posed by their primary opponents. These challenges could, and would, pop up at any time and take any form. The jeopardy was exactly the same; if a ‘challenge’ killed you, your opponent won by default. 

He “regretted wasting her time on a task that was so obviously beneath her advanced skillset.” They would attempt to find others more worthy of her talents. Although the words, at face value, were high praise indeed, she somehow felt they had been intended as a rebuke.

The ‘food’ was similar to, and as bland as, the average granola bar. Still, they were plentiful and the pair was famished. As she chewed, Giselle reflected on the events of the day, as well as their somewhat dubious dinner. This was one of those few moments in her life when an MRE would have been a welcome substitute. She would do better for them tomorrow, she vowed. In fact, an MRE might not be a bad idea….

The trembling began later. It was nothing new to her; she had dealt with it for a most of her adult life. In the heat of combat, you cannot afford the luxury of emotions. You shut them off, lock them away, so you can do the job you know you have to do. If you get hit in the meantime, oh well. If one of your team gets killed, tough luck; keep going. Eventually, the job is over, the day is done. You have to face the uncomfortable proposition of unlocking that which you locked away – and dealing with it. Bullets and bombs were one thing; monsters from her childhood, monsters that had taken on physical, flesh-and-blood form were a different story….

He watched her, sitting on the opposite side of the cave, hugging her knees tightly and rocking back and forth. She looked… small; nothing like the strong, confidant woman he had accompanied on patrol – the one who had so nonchalantly carved up the monster ant and saved his life before he even had time to react. Now, she sat alone, forlorn, and shaking like a leaf.

She jumped at his touch. He had sat down next to her, closer than he had been that afternoon, and put his arm around her. 

“In all the fuss this afternoon, I completely lost my head – and manners. Thank you for saving my life. What you did with that sword was amazing. I don’t know why I am here in the first place, but if I must, I am glad it is with you.”

She was confused; wanting him to be there, yet wanting him to get away from her. This was a complication she didn’t need right now. He was right there. She could feel his heat – and it felt good. She gazed up into those blue eyes, losing herself in them. At that moment, she was vulnerable. She lowered her gaze, fixing her sight on that beautiful, sensual mouth….

He was tender and she needed that. He caressed her in a gentle, sensual manner that belied his youthful countenance. She had never trulyneeded a man before, but she needed this one now. She needed his kiss, his touch, his warmth. He was special. Being with him was special, too.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she thought, “but he is SO good. It’s just like I thought it would -”

Her eyes flew open as a terrible thought occurred to her. NO! Dear God, they can’t be! She pressed her hand to his lips.

“Please, we have to stop right now.” 

The visibly shaken young woman retreated to the opposite side of the cave. She collapsed in a heap and sobbed uncontrollably. When Geoff approached, attempting to console her, she swatted at him with one hand, warning him with her glare to stay away. He returned to his side in misery. He vowed if he lived to be one thousand, he would never understand women.

The anger burned deep within her. You Bastards! I hope you are enjoying the show!

They were enjoying the show. Initial reaction to the female’s stunning dismemberment of the giant insect had been overwhelming. The interplay between her and her companion was shaping up nicely, too, although her sudden refusal of him at the last moment had been a disappointment. 

This looked to be much more promising than the last outing with a Human. That event had dragged on for almost two decades; two bumbling nits flailing away at each other ineffectually, day after day, year after year. That had been too funny. Finally, the Human’s opponent had died of natural causes. Boredom, if you asked the Praetor. The “winner” had been sent home, a laughingstock in the eyes of the Arcturans. 

In a routine follow-up, the Praetor had discovered the man’s own people had murdered him upon his return, nailed him to a wooden cross – and they had not even had to endure his drawn-out, lackluster effort. During the contest, there had been no shortage of Arcturan ‘volunteers’ demanding to put the contestant out of their misery.



Once A Wolf Ch. 02



When Geoff awoke, she was gone. He didn't exactly panic, but he was concerned. Had he mucked it up with her that badly, that she didn't even want to be around him? What had set her off in the first place? They hadn't really done anything but kiss and cuddle. Why was it affecting him this way, anyway? It wasn't as though he were starved for female attention in his life, but this one.... 

She was everything the others were not; smart, strong, tough, assertive, self-reliant, intuitive, yet still charming, coquettish, and amazingly, surreally feminine. She was vulnerable, very human, too, as she had displayed so eloquently the night before. If only he could figure out what was going through her head.... He hated to admit she had gotten to him, fast and hard, gotten under his skin. Whatever happened between them from now on, he didn't want her to think badly of him, although he couldn't figure out why she thought badly of him in the first place.

He had no idea where she could have gotten off to and didn't fancy going to look for her by himself. The memory of yesterday was still fresh in his mind. She might have been confident the ants – and he was certain there had been more than one of the monsters – would be gone, but he was not. The thought of running into another – alone - was not high on his "to do" list. Perhaps he should just stay here a bit and see if she comes ba....

He heard the sound. It was faint; he couldn't quite make out what it was. His eyes strayed to the corner. Her sword was there, where she had left it the night before. That seemed damn peculiar. He didn't know her that well yet, but it was his impression she would no more leave without her sword than without her clothes. There was that sound again! He couldn't get a clear read on it, but it seemed to be coming from... one of the passages at the rear of the cave. Then, the thought occurred to him. God, Giselle! She wasn't in trouble, was she? All he could picture was one of those six-legged monsters grabbing her in its mandibles and dragging her back into the far reaches of the cave – while he had slumbered on in blissful ignorance. 

He was moving then – fast. He snatched up the sword and made for the rear passage, stopping at intervals to listen and get his bearings. He had expected the cave to get darker the further into it he went. That was not the case. The rock walls were laced with minerals that appeared to have a natural luminescence to them. It was an eerie twilight, but a visible one. Once his eyes adjusted, he made his way quickly.

At last, he was able to make out the nature of the sound; splashing. A couple more quick turns, through otherwise empty chambers, around a corner and – he could not believe his own eyes. There, spread out before him, was... a grotto; a deep, subterranean pool, fed by a waterfall off to one side. The entrance to the grotto was at the top of a flight of stone stairs, seemingly formed by eons of natural erosion. The stairs curved downward to water level – actually, below it, like a swimming pool. The walls of the grotto were heavily infiltrated with the luminous minerals, above and below the waterline. The chamber was an oasis; a little piece of Paradise in the middle of nowhere. 

Fittingly, Giselle was there; her lush, womanly body glided gracefully through the water. She approached the bottom of the stairs and began her ascent. Glancing up, she beheld him, standing at the top of the stairs – and just kept stepping. As she rose from the water, it became readily apparent she hadn't a stitch of clothing on. If she was at all embarrassed about revealing herself to him, she gave not the slightest clue. With that lush, curvaceous body, he thought, she had nothing to be embarrassed about. He descended the stairs, meeting her halfway. She noted the sword in his hands, then just looked up at him – and smiled. Dear God, she was beautiful, standing there like that! He thought his heart would burst.

"First," she asserted, "thank you for coming to my rescue. Since I am not in need of it this time, might I take a rain check?"

His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything to say to put the trauma of the previous night behind them. Before he could say anything, she glanced down, towards the far side of the step he was standing on. He looked down, seeing... two plush towels sitting there! He looked at her quizzically. She smiled. His heart skipped a beat at that.

"They are a gift from the Arcturans – along with a few other little goodies I 'requisitioned'," Giselle revealed. "Sorry; no new weapons yet. I don't know about you, but I am grateful to be able to get cleaned up. I found this..."

She swept her hand in an arc, indicating the grotto.

"...early this morning. Isn't it exquisite? It is exactly what I needed to feel better about myself. A shower and a swim, and I feel like a whole new woman, so to speak. However, I really would like to dry off now, so...."

Rather than stand there, looking like a complete idiot, he put down the sword, snatched up a towel, unfurled it, and held it up. She turned appreciatively and allowed him to wrap her in it, patting her dry in the process. 

She turned back to face him. She raised her left hand and rested it softly on his cheek.

"I apologize for last night," the woman offered. "I want you to know that whatever you think happened, it was not your fault. I'm not ready to talk about it just yet, but we will talk; I promise you that."

Her hand had moved from his cheek to his chest. He felt her warmth against his own. His heart hammered madly in his chest. His other reaction was the obvious one. She glanced down, smiling mischievously. 

"Here. You'll need this," the blonde observed.

He accepted from her the clear plastic bottle with the green and white label.

"Dr. Bronner's 18-in-1 Hemp Almond Pure-Castile... Soap?" he queried.

She smiled, nodded – and pushed. Geoff flew off the staircase, into the pool. He surfaced, shaking his head.

"You really needed a bath, Tiger," Giselle avowed. "First, lose the clothes. Don't be modest; I've already 'shown you mine'. The soap is concentrated; a little goes a long way. Use the ledge under the stairs. Rinse off under the waterfall. Take a swim after, if you wish. I found it really refreshing."

She sat there, on the step, watching him with a bemused smile on her lips. Geoff felt self-conscious and elated at the same time as he shed his dirty, smelly clothing. He couldn't remember a better, more joyful morning in a long, long time. 

The grotto was a study in contrasts, just as was the woman who had introduced him to it. The ledge she had alluded to actually ran from the base of the stairs, around the curve of the chamber and behind the waterfall. There was a smaller pool in a recessed area behind the waterfall, surrounded by rock and separate from the main pool. The waterfall and main pool's waters were warm, yet the hidden pool was icy-cold. Perhaps there was a separate source feeding the smaller pool, or none at all; the still waters stood apart from the rest in their cold stone 'refrigerator'. Either way, Geoff was amazed with this natural spa.

He soaped, rinsed off, and swam, relishing the warming waters. All the while, he tried not to make it obvious that he was watching Giselle out of his peripheral vision. He could not get enough of the sight of her. She was making no bones about watching him! Perhaps she wasn't making any bones, but he was. He was embarrassed to step out of the water in that condition, but it wasn't going anywhere and they had to. There was only one thing to do....

He made his way back to the waterfall and stepped into the icy pool. Almost immediately, he spied a glint beneath the surface. It was a metal cylinder, perhaps two feet in length and eight inches in diameter. He looked up in puzzlement. Giselle caught his eye immediately. He read the warning expression on her face. She briefly cast her eyes upward, which he took to be a reference to 'eyes watching from above'. He nodded his understanding, then dove into the main pool and swam to the bottom of the steps.

Giselle awaited him at mid-step, towel in hand, as he had earlier for her. Despite his recent icy plunge, the sight of her standing nude before him awoke his 'friend' yet again. She was decent about it. She kept her eyes on his as he mounted the steps – but she was smiling a notch more than before. She patted him dry, as he had done for her. She spun him around – and they were face-to-face, and very close. His 'friend' was being particularly naughty, poking into places it oughtn't. She didn't object, didn't shy away, nor did she encourage him to go further. She just stood there, looking into his eyes, as if trying to decide exactly what her reaction should be. She settled on one, and voiced it.

"I want to thank you for a lovely first date," she asserted. "I really can't remember when I've had a more enjoyable time."

She smiled alluringly. Then, she picked up her sword, turned and headed up the stairs. He followed, lost for words.

The chamber just before the grotto wasn't as empty as he had first surmised. There were two piles of clothing: standard-issue military camouflage fatigues, desert pattern, with "Sally Mae" utility harness, canteens, soft, floppy-brimmed hats, underwear, sox, and boots. He pulled his head back and looked at her askance. Giselle smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"I figured if we were going to play 'soldier' we should at least look the part. I guessed at your sizes. It should be pretty close."

Somehow, he felt this woman was not playing 'soldier'. How did the Yanks put it? She was the "real deal". Did their armed forces now have female combat troops serving on the line? And who had taught her to wield a sword that way? Certainly not the American Army, nor any army he knew of. She hadn't said anything about it, nor would he ask her. The Arcturans were watching, and after what she had told him about the parameters they established for their 'contestants', it would be something best left unsaid. 

A thought occurred to him then. How much were they watching? Were they only interested in the actual combat, or did they digest everything? He remembered the interlude in the grotto, her silent visual reference to their 'audience'. Were they watching even then? Given the situation, he had no reason to believe otherwise. The Arcturans apparently regarded them as little more than lab rats. If that thought had occurred to Giselle the night before, her reaction, then and now, suddenly made more sense. Once again, he felt slow on the uptake. As for her being "close" on guessing his sizes, he discovered she had been spot-on. She gazed at him approvingly from head to toe.

"I do so adore a man in uniform."

She kissed him lightly on the cheek. He held her there, against him, for a moment. She stiffened briefly, until she realized he wanted nothing more than that. Then, she relaxed and melted against him. He put his lips to her ear, as though he was nuzzling it.

"What is in the cylinder in the grotto?"

She nuzzled his ear in return.

"That, My Dear, is a little piece of the most destructive force known to Humankind."

He simply stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief. Although he knew little of this woman, he was not prepared to doubt even this.

They shared that brief intimacy before having to return to their roles as 'professionals'. In truth, he wanted much more, wanted to ask more. He wisely kept his mouth shut. She had already given every indication she was still interested – and that when she was ready to talk, she would do so. He chose to believe the previous night had not been a mistake; just ill-timed.

The American military-issue MRE ("Meal, Ready to Eat") had been a luxury he had not expected. It was even self-heating! Then again, he hadn't expected any of this – or her. This was like nothing he had ever expected in his life – for stakes he had never expected to face. He hoped he was up to the task. Above all else, he hoped that, if the time came when she needed him, he would not fail her.

After policing their trash, he recovered his belt knife. She had him practice a bit more with his sword and knife movements, concentrating more at that point on fluidity of motion than speed. After a good workout, they donned polarized dark amber goggles to ward off the bright sunlight and set out on their morning patrol. 

To Giselle, this was to be a simple reconnaissance mission. They still needed more information about the Golganthans. Where were they? What were they up to? What kind of weapons did they use? What tactics would they employ? How did they think? She didn't expect to learn much, if anything about their Arcturan 'hosts', but she would be receptive to any information she might glean.

They climbed an embankment, Geoff in the lead. He reached down to help her up. She flashed an appreciative smile. They just stood there a moment, him holding her hand. Neither made a move to release the clasp. After a bit, they just turned and resumed walking. Even Geoff knew there was nothing 'professional' about this, but it was an open space and they would be able to see danger well before it presented itself.

"Giselle?"

"Yes?"

"Yesterday, I mean, the ant...."

"We've already been through this."

"No, not that. I froze. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even have time to think about what to do."

"That's the nature of this business, Geoffrey. If you have to think about it, you're dead."

"That worries me. I mean, I'm here and all. If I'm not to muck things up all the time, I'll need to learn how to stay alive at the least. I would like to be a help, not a hindrance. I've had some firearms training, and some martial arts, but nothing for a situation like this. I mean, what would I do if I had to defend myself right now?"

Giselle raised one eyebrow, glanced down at their clasped hands, and smiled bemusedly. Her response was pure jocular American.

"Boy, you must be a real fun date."

He blushed beet red.

"You know what I mean."

Giselle smiled, adding her other hand to encompass his.

"Sorry, couldn't resist. All right, if I were to suddenly get this uncontrollable urge to molest you, I suppose you would just have to... turn around."

"Turn around?"

"Yes. Turn around."

With that, the blonde pivoted on the ball of her foot, turning to the inside of their clasped hands. She trapped his hand firmly within her own, holding his arm close. She twisted outward and down with her arms, using his elbow as a pivot point. Geoff cartwheeled through the air, landing on his upper back with a thump. The wind was knocked from him. He lay there for a moment, looking up. In a moment, he collected air and wits.

"I see."

Giselle giggled and helped him to his feet. He glared at her with mock ferocity.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?", he growled.

His companion smirked.

"Rather. It isn't often I get a really good-looking guy to fall for me."

He softened his glance.

"I doubt that very much. I can't imagine a man who wouldn't take a tumble for you."

Her smile faded just a bit.

"Not as many as you might believe. There really hasn't been time for it. Besides..."

She placed her hand on his cheek.

"... I'm choosey."

He rather liked the sound of that.

Geoff stumbled upon it as he scouted an outcropping of rock. He had been momentarily struck dumb in terror, then shouted out her name as he drew his knife. Giselle had come on the run, sword at the ready. When they determined it was no longer a threat, they relaxed and examined the carcass. 

This one had been a 'major worker'. It spanned some fifteen feet in length. There had been nothing of Giselle's surgical precision in this kill. The beast had been deliberately, systematically hacked to death. It was apparent from the severity of the damage that great strength had been employed. That was consistent with what Giselle already knew about the Golganthans. This information was revealing in what to expect from their adversaries. It also gave them one other important piece of information: Human challenges could just as easily become Golganthan challenges. Conversely, an ordeal intended for the Golganthans.... 

There was something else about the carcass that troubled her. The kill was old – along the same timeframe as her own. Most of the damage had been to the head and upper thorax, as it should be; that was where the mortal blows had been struck. But there was a section of the gaster that was also incised. This one did not resemble the type of wound inflicted in the heat of combat. More time had been taken, more care.

That didn't make sense. The stinger was back there, and the sting from a fire ant this size was certain to be lethal – even for the Golganthans. If they were attacking the stinger outright, fine - but it hadn't been touched. Why even put yourself in range of being stung? Unless... the gaster wound had been inflicted post-mortem. That made a little more sense, but what would be the purpose of cutting into a dead ant's abdomen? Suddenly, she realized the incision hadn't just been inflicted post-mortem; it was fresh!

The first boulder missed them by inches. The second, larger one, following immediately in the wake of the first, would have crushed them both – had they still been in the same spot. At that moment they were encircling the outcropping in opposite directions, looking for a way up. 

Geoff's first view of a Golganthan was, in fact, the business end of a Golganthan fighting dagger. It missed his eyes by a whisker as he raised his head above the ledge. Dipping down to allow the return sweep to pass harmlessly over his head, he gathered all his strength and thrust upward with his arms, pivoting at the hips to vault both legs across the ledge. He caught the female behind the ankles, knocking her legs out from under her. She tumbled backwards and crashed on the rocks, bellowing in pain. 

He made his way to his feet. She was not far behind, the blade held before her, waving back and forth. He could hear the repeated clang of metal on metal from beyond the crest and knew Giselle and the male were having at it. Geoff was in a precarious position; poised on the edge with the female before him and a long drop behind. She was not a pro; but then, neither was he. He focused not on the blade, but on her eyes, waiting for her to telegraph her next move.

She thrust twice in rapid succession; first right, then left. He dodged in opposite succession, his superior speed enabling him to evade the blade. She danced to her right, then thrust across. He turned to his right, taking her thrust harmlessly down his left side. Without conscious thought, he clamped his left hand down atop her right wrist, reversed direction, brought his right hand up to clamp the underside of her wrist, then pivoted down and out with his arms, using her arm as a fulcrum. 

The effect was spectacular. The Golganthan flew off her legs, spun through the air – and over the ledge. He could hear the recurrent, sickening crunch as she bounced down the side of the rocks, then the dull thud as she hit the ground. Geoff just looked at his two hands, not comprehending what they had just done. A flicker of movement below him caught his eye. To his utter amazement, the Golganthan was hobbling away, in distress, but under her own power. He knew with certainty he would not have survived such a fall.




Once A Wolf Ch. 02



"Nicely done. Apparently, you are picking up some of my bad habits. I like that in a man. You know, you could have used your knife."

Giselle was before him, re-sheathing her sword in that fluid, effortless flourish he admired. He glanced at his belt. There it was, right where he had put it before they had left the cave.

"In the heat of battle, I didn't even think of it," he moaned. "See what I meant earlier? How stupid of me. The male?"

She smiled.

"Beating a similarly hasty retreat. I nicked him. He'll live."

She stood before him, placing her hand upon his cheek. He was beginning to realize just how much he enjoyed the feel of it there.

"Surviving any combat, particularly hand-to-hand combat, is not 'stupid'," she intoned. What you did displays an amazing degree of courage and coolness under fire. In case it was lost upon you, you didn't just mimic what I showed you; you improvised. You faced a different combat situation and adapted your technique to it. I don't wish to sound condescending, but I am proud of you."

His heart skipped a beat.

"This is the first time I have ever had the Bad Guys on the run," he opined.

Giselle looked down, pursing her lips. She spoke her next words quietly.

"Geoff, the Golganthans are our opponents. We have no quarrel with them; we are simply obliged to fight them. The Arcturans are the 'Bad Guys' for creating this artificial conflict and throwing the four of us into it. Remember that. Let's go. We still have work to do."

They made their way down from the outcropping. The two Golganthans had retreated in different directions. Giselle chose to track the male first and, if necessary, return to the outcropping to track the female. As they made their way around the base of the rock, Geoff couldn't help but notice the smooth, vertical walls without viable handholds on the side that Giselle would have had to scale. The lowest available ledge was some ten or eleven feet up. He couldn't, for the life of him, imagine how she had made her ascent so quickly.

The skirmish had been a blessing in disguise. The male had been cagy enough, doubling back several times and hiding his tracks. The injured female had not. She had made a beeline back to their cave. Giselle and Geoff followed her tracks, noted its location, then withdrew, lest they be caught in an ambush even while planning their own.

They took a circuitous route back to their own cave, lest they repeat the Golganthan female's mistake. Along the way, both were quiet, introspective. Geoff mulled over Giselle's description of their adversarial relationship with the Golganthans. He didn't like his conclusions one bit. She read his thoughts and spoke.

"You can't let it eat at you."

"Excuse me?" he replied.

"What we did to the Golganthans," she continued. "It wasn't personal. If we had been a little slower, we would be the ones hurting right now."

"That doesn't make it right," Geoff interjected.

"It never is," Giselle pointed out. "Studs Terkel once described World War Two as "The Last Good War". That was an unfortunate choice of words. There has never been a 'good war'. Some are worse than others and they all end badly. The only people who believe in a 'good war' have either forgotten it over time or were never there. Ask any soldier who was there – if you can get them to talk about it at all. 

"World War Two was the last good cause, one with a clear-cut sense of right and wrong that everyone could believe in and rally behind. Even that was subject to interpretation, depending where you lived. Almost every significant conflict since has been largely based on hype, a manufactured motive; again, some more grievous than others.

"I would love to say this 'tournament' is a new low. It isn't. It isn't even new to us. American Rules Football. Hockey. Rugby. Professional Wrestling. Bullfights. Cockfights. Dogfights. Modern Lacrosse is played with a type of 'ball', but the original was played with a freshly-severed human head. It is all bread and circuses for the masses. Give them a little good old fashioned blood and gore to keep them satisfied."

Giselle stopped, grabbed her companion by the arms and turned him to face her.

"Geoff, this is the new Coliseum and we are the new Gladiators." 

She released him, raising her arms and voice to the heavens.

"Ave Caesar! Morituri Te Salutant!"

He took her in his arms. She was close to tears.

"You really hate this, don't you?"

Her eyes glittered; twin sapphire flames.

"I really hate people jerking my chain. I hate being used, manipulated, to further someone else's agenda. I always have..."

She looked down dejectedly.

"...and, pretty much, I always have been."

"Giselle?"

"Yes?"

"Who is Studs Terkel?"

She laughed through her tears.

"Get outta town!"

Geoff's admiration for – no, attraction to – this amazing woman with her oddly compelling combination of clipped British tones and American idioms grew stronger by the minute. He knew he still had so much to learn....

*****

On a moonlit summer evening long before that one, Mike Blair had also known he still had so much to learn. He stood at the crest of the St. Charles Road Bridge, gazing east. Below him, cars whizzed by on the Tri-State Tollway. The State of Illinois would soon be extending the Eisenhower Expressway north and west. It would occupy the empty space parallel to the Tollway below. Beyond, the lights of Chicago beckoned in the distance. He wanted to remember this moment, savor it. Instinctively, he knew it would be a long time before he would see it again.

Mike's parents thought she had lost his mind. It was bad enough he had spent the last year studying Japanese and devouring everything he could about martial arts and Japanese culture. Then, they learned he had been corresponding with a "Toshisugu Takamatsu" through his colleague, a "Dr. Masaaki Hatsumi". This Dr. Hatsumi had sent a letter inviting Mike to come to Japan as a foreign exchange student, with himself as their child's sponsor. 

It wouldn't even be in Tokyo, or any of the other major cities they knew of. He would be going to a small village called Ueno in the Iga Prefecture, wherever that was. Dr. Hatsumi was not without influence. The State Department and Japanese Interior Ministry had both signed off on the deal, which made them feel a little more at ease. It was an honor to be an exchange student, especially to be accepted at so young an age. But Japan.... Mike's father had served in the Eleventh Armored Division under General Patton. Neither he nor his wife trusted any of the former Axis powers, nor ever would again.

In the end, Mike's mother convinced his father to let him go. Marilynn Blair knew her child was every bit as stubborn and determined as her husband. If they didn't let him try this, they would never hear the end of it. Hopefully, in a few months, he would be homesick enough to want to come back. They watched his plane taxi away from the gate at O'Hare, not knowing what to expect. Neither did he. All he knew was a vow he had made and fully intended to keep: never again.



Once A Wolf Ch. 03



Second Day - Afternoon 

They came upon a grove of scrub trees and sawgrass that looked oddly out of place for the terrain. The hair on the back of Giselle's neck stood up. She advanced cautiously, turning this way and that, maintaining a close watch in all directions. Geoff followed, adding his eyes to the scan. If the grove seemed out of place, the dilapidated, two-story frame house was doubly so. Giselle approached the stairs to the porch at a half-crouch, placing each footfall quietly, carefully, deliberately, her left hand over her shoulder, resting comfortably on the hilt of her sword. There was no sign of life on the porch or at the door. They mounted the steps and entered.

There were stairs ahead of the door and a parlor to the right. They stepped into the latter room, Geoff keeping a close eye on their rear. The room itself was unremarkable, aside from the entire structure being hideously out of place. It had a high ceiling and a few pieces of old furniture with threadbare upholstery scattered around the periphery. Tattered lace curtains fluttered at the windows. For the most part, it was just a big, empty room, ending in a door.

It was the closed door that held the experienced tactician's attention. It wasn't a 'door' door. Rather, it was an industrial-style steel fire door, mounted on tracks, which slid to one side rather than swinging on hinges. When she saw that door, she knew.

Her hands flew to her chest, unbuckling the sword harness. She thrust the sword back into Geoff's hands.

"Step back. Do not interfere. If this goes south, get out, don't look back, and stay on the mission."

"But..."

"STEP BACK," she hissed.

Then, they heard the buzzing roar. Giselle faced the steel door, positioning her feet shoulder-width apart, flexing her knees slightly. The door flew to one side. The man who stepped through it – and it did appear to be a man – was perhaps six-foot-three, two-hundred-thirty pounds, wearing commercial-grade denim overalls, a stained, full-length leather apron and matching mask. He stank of death and decay. A long, menacing chain saw swung from his arms in a wide figure-eight arc.

It was the kind of specter that would have terrified any normal human being, let alone a normal young woman. Giselle Du Mont had never been either. She calculated the speed of his advance, plus that of the saw's recurring circular motion. She waited until he was just before her, the spinning chain at the apogee of its arc, directly above her head. Then, she struck.

The front snap kick caught him squarely in the groin, momentarily lifting him off the floor. Even through the heavy combat boot, she could feel his testicles collapse from the force of the blow. As he doubled over, the saw would have neatly bisected the woman – had she still been standing where she had been. She was already squatted to one side, spinning clockwise on her left foot, right leg extended, heel-forward. She swept the man's feet out from under him from behind in one fluid motion. He somersaulted backwards in mid-air, landing with a crash on his head and shoulders. His legs were above him, parallel to the floor. 

Giselle rocked back on her shoulders, thrusting both legs straight up, then snapped them out and down. She caught his legs behind the ankles, pinning him to the floor, the chain saw trapped between his thighs and belly. She reached out with her right hand, covered his, and firmly squeezed the trigger. The icy blonde held him there, watching dispassionately, as the chain saw ripped him apart. His trapped body shuddered violently as green blood, flesh, and bits of bone flew in every direction.

It was over in a few seconds. She rolled off him when his legs came loose and collapsed on top of the remains of his torso. Kipping up to her feet, she stepped to the window, yanked a lace curtain from its rod, and wiped the gore from her face, neck and hands. Throwing the bloody rag down, she walked determinedly from the room and house, eyes fixed straight ahead. Geoff followed in her wake, too stunned to speak.

He caught up with her fifty yards on, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around. Her eyes burned brightly. Her jaw was still tightly clenched, distended at the hinges. Geoff held her firmly by the arms. He didn't care one whit that she could, if she chose, dispatch him as easily as she had the man in the house. His eyes bore into hers, demanding answers.

"What... just... happened? That was a man back there, one of our own kind, and he just tried to kill us! Has the entire Universe gone insane? What was he doing here in the first place? And why did he bleed green blood, like the ant?" 

Her demeanor softened. She eased her right arm from his grasp, softly put her fingers to his lips and shook her head.

"No, it wasn't," she replied calmly. "A man, that is. We could probably come back here in an hour and none of it would be here; the house, the grove, anything. Just like the ants."

"What about the Golganthan's ant?" Geoff countered.

"The Arcturans were not done with it yet," Giselle responded. "Rather, the Golganthans weren't. As to why he bled green, like the ant... that just proves he wasn't human. The color indicates cupraglobin; copper-based blood. I think they were both constructs, derived from a similar source. Replicas." 

The lanky young man turned his head this way and that, thoroughly confused.

"Was it real? Any of it?" he inquired incredulously.

"Real enough to kill us both if we had been less skillful."

"I was less skillful," Geoff avowed. "I would be mincemeat twice over if not for you."

She placed her hand on his chest.

"You, My Dear, would have been smart enough not to go into the house in the first place."

"Why did you?" he demanded.

She pursed her lips.

"Because the Arcturans expected me to. If I hadn't... I don't know, they might have penalized us in some way. I took a calculated risk. We won. We will be rewarded for it, just as we will be rewarded for our earlier combat with the Golganthans. In the end, these tiny victories, and the rewards we earn, will help us win." 

"Tiny?" he gasped. "Oh, never mind that part. Why did you give me your sword? Why not just draw and quarter him with it? For you, that would be child's play."

She wrapped her arm around his.

"Walk with me. Geoff, we train as hard as we can, learn as much as we can, then stick close to those who have done the job and survived, in hope some of their 'magic' will rub off on us. But there is no magic in Combat. In the end, so much of it depends on that 'blind idiot luck' I talked about yesterday. 

"Good people die for really stupid, tragic, yet unavoidable reasons. I was fairly confident I could take down old 'Leatherface' with or without my sword, but there was a chance I was mistaken. I told you it was a calculated risk. If I had lost, you would be responsible for Humankind, not to mention defending yourself from Leatherface. You would have a much better chance of fulfilling those two responsibilities with the sword than without it."

"You would sacrifice yourself like that?" he asked.

"If the job called for it, yes; without a moment's hesitation," the blonde warrior asserted. "The mission comes first. One life is unimportant. Life itself – with the infinite possibilities it offers – is important. Our job here is to ensure Life, as we know it, continues – no matter what."

"What did you mean 'goes south?'" he inquired.

She laughed.

"Ends badly, disastrously. Sometimes, I slip. Now, let's get back to the cave."

She was so adept at that façade of invincibility. He admired her for that. Yet he now knew her well enough to understand she would need him later, when she let down her guard. He vowed he would be there for her, as he had attempted the night before.

She hadn't lied to him; not really. She hadn't been the slightest bit afraid of Leatherface. She had seen the film so many times, choreographed and rehearsed her response in her head so often, that when it actually played out, she could have all but phoned in her performance. Who says nothing good ever comes of a childhood fixation on scary movies?

Her ploy had had an entirely different motivation, one that seemed to be working out. With a smile, she noted that it had not yet occurred to Geoff to offer her back the sword he had slung over his shoulder as she did. She had wanted him to have a taste of command, of being in charge – with all the responsibility that job carried. She would need that of him later; Earth would. More to the point, she wanted it. So far, he was handling it like a natural.

Upon their return to the cave, the Praetor's holographic image awaited them.

"Who are you?", he inquired accusingly.

"Giselle Du Mont. I told you that."

"Who are you with? What military organization?"

Giselle blushed, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of Geoff.

"I am unemployed. I have been for two years. I told you that, too."

"I don't believe you."

"Look it up. I'm in the book!"

The heated exchange went on for several minutes. In the end, the Praetor broke contact; satisfied or not, they could not tell. Shortly, a tall stack of MRE's, medical supplies, a couple of knapsacks and some kind of lantern appeared on the cave floor. There were still no new weapons. The lantern would be useful in providing additional light at night. Geoff just stared at their reward for providing a good day's 'entertainment'. Giselle placed her hand on his arm. He looked up.

"What?" she asked softly.

"I can't help wondering what the Golganthans received for losing," he intoned.

Her jaw muscles clenched. She already knew the answer to that. In her mind's eye, she could still see the excised portion of the dead ant's abdomen. She wondered how it had tasted.

"Go down to the grotto and get cleaned up," she advised. We'll talk when you get back."

"What about you?" he asked.

"I'll shower later. I have something to do first."

When Geoff returned, she wasn't there. He was getting used to that. The dejected young warrior-in-training realized he wasn't in her league – and wondered if he ever would be. He had the distinct impression she was older than she appeared. She was clearly more skillful, experienced, intuitive and fiercely independent. He wasn't used to a woman making him feel like an addled schoolboy. Right now, he would be happy if she would just let him know when she was leaving.

It was dark when she finally reappeared in the cave entrance. She dropped her empty knapsack and Sally Mae in a heap with the rest of their gear. She placed the sword more reverently in the corner. Geoff looked at her expectantly. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Night recon."

Even in the dim light, Geoff could make out a shadow on the side of her face. He held her chin in his hand and gently turned that side toward him. A fresh bruise shown clearly. She avoided his gaze.

"A little misunderstanding. I got it straightened out."

"I'm glad. I wouldn't want people to suspect I was abusing you."

She regarded him tenderly.

"That is the one thing I don't think I would ever have to worry about."

She kissed him lightly on the lips.

"That wasn't very professional," Geoff murmured.

"Sue me," Giselle replied softly. "I need a shower."

He watched her retreating form as she made her way through the passage. He thought to grab some antiseptic and follow her, so he could treat her bruise after she washed. It wasn't there. The medical kit was gone. So were half the MRE's. He gazed at the moonlit cave entrance, then turned to face the passageway where she had disappeared.

"Bloody Hell."

He could picture in his mind Giselle showing up on the Golganthan's doorstep with her 'Care package' in her knapsack. Of course, they wouldn't know that was her reason for coming. They would have.... He thought again of the bruise. And she HADN'T cut them to ribbons? Geoff just shook his head in amazement. Given the life-or-death nature of their struggle, it had been an amazingly foolish, illogical, gallant gesture, worthy of the old World War One aviators. He could really love this woman.

She had already washed out her bloody fatigues; they were draped over rocks to dry. He was waiting for her on the steps as she arose from the water. She was every bit as exquisite as before. There was a difference now, one that tore at his heart. The bruise on her cheek was just the tip of the iceberg. God, she had taken a fearsome beating! She had done it because he had shamed her into it – or felt he had. Then, he hadn't even been there for her when she needed him, as he had promised himself he would. He knew that feeling all too well. Tears welled up in his eyes as he held out the towel for her.

"Just tell me you don't hate me," he murmured solemnly. That's all I ask."

She looked down.

"Hate... you...."

She rolled the words slowly, carefully off her tongue, as though she were having difficulty with the concept. She lifted her gaze to his and tore the towel out of his grasp, throwing it down on the steps. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed herself bodily against him. She kissed him then; fiercely, passionately, wantonly. He placed his hands under her tush to support her weight. 

The moment passed. She broke the kiss. He read the signal and released her gently. She spread the towel out along the step and they sat down. He put his arm around her and she did nothing to dissuade him. She gazed into his eyes and spoke resolutely.

"We may die here. Our world may end. Hell may freeze over. The Sun itself may fall from the sky, but I will never, ever hate you. You must believe that. Sometimes I get so caught up in the job, I forget, under it all, I am still human. You reminded me of that tonight. Thank you."

Gazing into her eyes, he knew he did believe her. Still, he had so many questions.

"Giselle, I really need to know. Yesterday, with the ant. Today, the man with the chain saw. I realize they were 'challenges' the Arcturans set out for us. Why these things? Where are the Arcturans getting them from?"

"From us."

"Us?"

"It has become deeply ingrained in our popular culture to think that aliens are monitoring our television and radio signals," the blonde warrior explained. "The S.E.T. I. Project beams signals directly into space for exactly that purpose. So, why not? The Arcturans seemed to focus on images from our pop culture that frighten us; monsters, bogeymen, spooks, things that go bump in the night. They are using those images against us to see how we cope with them. They aren't just challenging us. They mean to terrify us."

"So far, they have succeeded very nicely with me," Geoff admitted. "However, their plan seems to be backfiring with you."

"I don't scare that easily," Giselle avowed.

"Why are they doing this? Are they feeding on our fear?"

"Perhaps not in the literal sense. To them, it may be a 'hoot' to scare us to death, like in the 'slasher' movies they emulate. There is another possibility. The Arcturans are an advanced, jaded culture. As in any decadent society, 'kicks just keep gettin' harder to find'. They have already altered the parameters of their tournament several times to make it more interesting. The tournament itself, and the 'challenges' in particular, may have become a sexual perversion. Our pain, our fear, may be making them cream."

That angered the young man. She could see it in his eyes. She held his face with both hands.

"Don't," she enjoined. "That is exactly what they want. Don't give them the satisfaction – at least, not for free. Remember, this is all a game to them. So, let's play the game. Make them work for it."

"Work for it?" he asked.

"Tit for tat," she replied. "If they want something, they have to give us something in return."

"That sounds so mercenary. Next, you will be saying we should demand the money in advance."

That stunned the blonde beauty. She thought about it for a moment, then smirked.

"Actually, that is not a bad analogy...." 

Her face turned serious.

"I wanted to explain last night," she offered.

"You don't owe me an explanation," he returned.

"I feel I do," she retorted. "Do you remember what I said this afternoon? How much I hate having my chain jerked? Last night, I felt I was being manipulated again - and not by you. I snapped."

It was his turn to hold her face in his hands.

"I may be dense," he intoned, "but I do catch on eventually. I figured all that out this morning. On top of everything else, they wanted their live sex show and you were not willing to give it to them. I have no problem with that. More than anything else, I am... elated you do not feel I was trying to use you the same way. What I do have a problem with is, we just met yesterday. How did they know we would want anything to do with each other on a personal level, and so soon?"

"You are kidding, of course."

"I don't follow."

She stood up and turned around to face him. He was on his feet instantly, drawn to her like magnet to steel.

"I can't speak for you," she purred, "but how could any woman in her right mind not be attracted to you?"

He held her hands in his, not daring to believe the implication of her words.

"You know, the Arcturans are..." he began.

"...still watching," she finished. "I think I will leave them on 'Simmer' for a while."

"THEM?"

She kissed him softly on the lips.

"I want to thank you for a lovely second date..." she cooed.

She placed her hand on his neck and smiled teasingly.

"... and look; no sword! I will look forward to our third date."

"I have heard about your American 'third dates'," Geoff said.

Giselle tilted her head slightly, smiled and winked.

"So have I. I have even been on a few," she murmured.

She would have to tell him, of course. She knew how the Arcturans knew the two of them "would want anything to do with each other" – and why he was there in the first place. There were other things he deserved to know as well. She would wait until later, when they knew each other better. Perhaps then he would not be as likely to reject her in disgust. Giselle realized at that moment, for the first time in her life, she was being selfish. 

He held her later, calming the tremors he had known would come. 

"Giselle?"

"Yes, Geoffrey?"

"Is there anything that does frighten you?"

She hadn't looked up. She clung to him, pressing the side of her face against his chest.

"Yes," she replied in a small, childlike voice. "Me."

She had fallen asleep in his arms, her face nuzzling his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt more at peace. In an insane conflict, what she – they – had done for the Golganthans was the ultimate insanity. He was certain there would be repercussions. But she was sleeping like a baby and he was equally certain he would do the same.



Once A Wolf Ch. 04



*****

Mike Blair had graduated from the University of Illinois with degrees in Mechanical, Chemical, and Electronic Engineering and a minor in Mathematics and Computer Science. He had a five-point-oh average across the board, spoke technical Russian and fluent Japanese. He enlisted and preferenced Light Weapons Infantry because it was the right thing to do, the next logical step. The recruiter took one look at the specialty posting he had selected as his enlistment ‘guarantee’ and told him he “had guts”. 

The sergeant had run a routine criminal background check. Mike knew he would get a hit from the Urbana Police Department. He watched as the recruiter read the incident report from that night four years before – and almost creamed in his pants. The look on the sergeant’s face was priceless! He wasted no more time signing Mike up and welcoming him to the Army. 

Giselle remembered that night during New Student Week. A slender, brown-eyed, sandy-haired Mike Blair had just returned to the States from his five-year ‘field study’ in Japan. He had enrolled at Illinois as had three generations of his family before him. Looking back, Giselle realized just how cute he had been. The seven drunken Varsity football players had invaded her dormitory floor that night, looking for “fresh fish” and decided she needed a “real man”, times seven. Mike had taken exception to that idea.

The arrogant quarterback, a legitimate Heisman candidate, had required extensive maxillofacial reconstructive surgery. The fullback had spent three months in traction and never played football again. That disgusting pig of a middle linebacker eventually got around OK; he simply breathed into a tube to make his motorized wheelchair go backward, forward, or turn. The defensive end who had pawed her snatch had required a year to learn how to use his new prosthetic arm. The rest had escaped – fled - with less severe injuries. The Togakure-ryu had taught Mike Blair well.

*****

The Third Day

Geoff had been wrong; he couldn’t sleep. So much had happened in the past two days. The Tournament itself. Giant ants. Fiends with chain saws. Green blood everywhere. Fearsome looking pigs that wanted to either slice him open or dash his brains out. More than any other thing, he couldn’t sleep because of this exquisite, marvelous, mysterious, vexing woman who was even then curled up on his chest like it was the most natural thing on this or any other planet. The damnable thing was, it felt that way to him, too!

The only thing to do then was to exercise, wear himself out. He ever… so… gently eased himself out from under her, lowering her head carefully to the soft earth of the cave floor. He quietly fetched the sword from the corner and took it outside to practice. He briefly considered strapping it onto his back as she did (he was grateful she, too, was left-handed), but decided against it. He was full aware of how sharp that blade was and didn’t fancy slicing his own head off in an errant attempt to draw or re-sheathe the weapon.

In the stillness of the night, he practiced the basic stances, parries, and slashes she had shown him, concentrating on gripping the handle properly (left hand at the handguard, right hand just above the end of the hilt) and centering his balance for each movement. She had cautioned him to work on form. The speed would come in time, but would be useless or dangerous if coupled with bad technique. She had admonished him to become the sword; that it be an extension of his soul.

He felt a subtle change in air pressure, as if a gentle desert breeze had softly whispered by him. There was no moon that night. He hadn’t really needed the moonlight to practice by. Now, he wished he had it. He felt the breeze again, a wind where there should be no wind. This time he heard something. It was like the gentle lapping of a banner in the breeze or – the flap of wings!

He assumed the back stance, knees flexed, sword held over his head, pointing forward, in line with his body. She had cautioned him, there would be times when his eyes would not be enough. This was one of those times. His eyes darted in every direction, but he remained completely still, reaching out with his other senses as well. 

It struck him from behind, a glancing blow, but almost knocking him off his feet and the sword from his hands. Stupid, Geoff! Use the terrain to YOUR advantage, not theirs. He stepped back against the rock wall. An outcropping shielded his right side; the cave entrance was to his left, another outcropping beyond that. Whatever the thing was, it could only approach him from in front and, with difficulty, from the left. He could hear and feel it. The subtle changes of air pressure were a physical thing he could reach out to. It was making an approach from the right, a dozen or so yards out, carving a wide arc. He could make it out dimly now. It was wheeling left, and… coming straight for him!

He prepared for it. He stepped forward from the wall with his left foot and planted it pointing straight ahead, flexing the knee at a right angle. He extended his right leg straight back, right foot pointed forward The two feet were approximately shoulder-width apart. He centered his body weight over his forward knee, raised his arms up, sword overhead and pointed backwards along his bodyline, blade parallel to the ground, edge up. Wait for it. Waiiiiiit…. NOW!

The blade flashed through the air in a smooth, straight diagonal line from above his left shoulder, across the front of his body, to a point just above ground to his right. What he felt was not so much an impact as a gentle resistance, as though the blade were passing through water. The dim shape thudded to the ground at his feet. Almost immediately, he felt a jarring impact from the left that hurled him into the rock outcropping to his right. Stars danced behind his eyes. The world was spinning. He dropped the sword and sank to his knees. Just then, he heard a deep, rumbling growl to his left that seemed to cause the air around him to vibrate. Through the fog that was his vision, he saw a flash of white, something big, fly through the air next to him. Then, there was only blackness.

*****

“Geoffrey. Geoffrey. Are you with me, My Love? GEOFF!”

He was dead. He was certain of it. An angel had come for him, the most beautiful angel he had ever seen. Whatever happened, wherever I am, take me; I’m yours. Just a moment; this angel is wearing… desert fatigues. The mists in his mind slowly cleared. They were sitting on the ground at the mouth of the cave, approximate to where he had fought – and fallen. Giselle cradled his head in her lap. She smiled at him and he felt he really did want to curl up and die, right there in her arms.

“Welcome back, Tiger. You gave me quite a start. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a two-ton lorry… sorry, truck. You didn’t get the license number by any chance, did you?”

She smiled a smile that warmed him to the bone.

“Didn’t have to. You can get it yourself at your leisure.”

She glanced to her left. He turned his head – and winced with the pain. There, lying a few yards away was a… thing. All right, it had wings, so it was bird-like, but completely unlike any bird he had ever seen. As nearly as he could tell from this angle, its wingspan had been over six feet. It was black or dark gray and Pterodactyl-like. The head was wrong; rounder, not pointed, and bigger. This ‘bird’ had claws in the wings, claws in the feet, and a big mouth full of dagger-like teeth. At least, it might have looked like that once. This one was neatly sliced in two, from where the neck joined the right shoulder, diagonally through the body, to about the left leg. Giselle followed the direction of his gaze, then smiled down at him once more.

“I appreciate you feel the need to practice,” she stated, her voice tinged with both concern and mirth, “but you really didn’t have to go to the trouble of arranging a live-fire exercise in the dead of night. Technically speaking, that was brilliantly done.”

“I feel I should be brilliantly dead,” Geoff replied ruefully. “Now, I am more confused than ever. If I got that one, what hit me?”

“The other one,” she intoned softly.

Giselle shifted her body slightly. He could see the second form now, lying crumpled on the ground a few yards from the first. Unlike its mate, this one had been torn to shreds, apparently by something massively powerful. He shuddered involuntarily. Giselle continued.

“They appear to be nocturnal, carnivorous, and hunt in pairs or packs. If I were to make a guess, I would say the Golganthans just paid us back for the ant.”

“Why did they come after me? How did they find me?”

“Why did the second ant go after the Golganthans? You were a target of opportunity. As to the mechanics of it, who knows? Movement. Smell. Body heat. Since they are nocturnal, they may have some form of night vision - or sonar, like bats. You saw the teeth and claws. Something like that could hit its prey on the fly, disable it, then tear it to shreds at its leisure.”

“It almost did that very thing to me. Marvelous. It isn’t bad enough we have to worry about these traumas by day. Now we have to face Night Stalkers.”

Giselle chuckled.

“Night Stalkers, huh? Thank you, Carl Kolchak. Actually, it’s a good name for the ugly little beast.”

“It didn’t feel so little while it was trying to cave my head in. All right, I got the first one. What the Devil got the second?”

The blonde shrugged her shoulders. 

“Perhaps Part Two of the Golganthan’s nightmare,” she espoused. We haven’t seen any of their challenges until now. The Arcturans may be making up for lost time. The ferocity of the attack, plus the extent of destruction is certainly indicative of the Golganthan’s world. I am certain it was not the Golganthans themselves. We pummeled them pretty hard yesterday. Even with the help we later gave them, they were in no condition to leave their cave and may not be for a day or two. We may have earned the Golganthan’s challenge by default – either as the last ones standing, or as punishment for our ‘breech of protocol’.”

“Repercussions,” Geoff intoned.

“Excuse me?”

“Something I was thinking about earlier tonight,” he replied. There would be repercussions for what we did for the Golganthans. No good deed goes unpunished.”

“So true,” Giselle agreed. “I have the bruises to prove it.”

“Please don’t,” the chagrined man pleaded. “I already feel enough guilt to last the week. Next time, I will keep my big mouth shut.”

Giselle smiled at that.

“I doubt the latter,” she observed. “Besides, you have nothing to feel guilty about. It was a decision we made and I don’t regret it for a moment. Besides, I heal quickly. At any rate, I should be thanking you for watching over me while I slept. You are my hero.”

“I don’t feel very heroic just now,” he professed. “Heroes don’t fall down on the job half-way through.”

She lightly caressed his cheek.

“You look pretty heroic to me,” she murmured. “I won’t sweat the details. Let’s get inside. This time, I will watch over you while you sleep. You took a pretty nasty knock to the head.”

As he lay his head down to sleep, he looked up at her again.

“Giselle, after I was hit, just before I blacked out… I saw something.”

She just stared at him impassively.

“It was probably the second Night Stalker coming back to finish you off,” she offered.

“I’m not so certain. It was big and fast and I got the impression it had white… fur.”

“That must have been a delusion caused by your head trauma,” she countered. “Those things that attacked you weren’t white. They don’t even have feathers, much less fur. Their hide is almost like leather. If it wasn’t that, well, maybe you caught a glimpse of the ‘Part Two’ I mentioned. If that is the case, you really are lucky to be alive.”

“There is something else. A while ago, as I was coming around, I thought I heard you call me ‘My Love’.”

“Now I know you are delusional.”

*****

She meditated while he slept, summoning her spirit guide for the second time in an hour. It came to her, enveloping her in its customary comforting warmth. Together, they looked inward, probing her body, identifying the points of damage, increasing her metabolism and blood flow to speed the healing process to those injured areas.

Geoffrey had seen it the first time she summoned it. She didn’t know how she could explain it to him in terms he could understand. So few did. The entire concept was alien to the religion, the culture he knew. Yet it had stood over him, protected him from the second Night Stalker, just as he had protected her. She hoped, some day, she would be able to reconcile him to it. In the meantime, it was best he remained unaware of its existence.

She had questions, sought guidance to straighten the tangle of emotions she felt for this brave, beautiful man who had come into her life. He was so worldly in many ways, yet so naïve in hers. At least, it had seemed so in the beginning. He was growing, expanding, becoming at an almost frightening rate, like none she had ever known before. Was he the one? Her spirit guide responded as she knew it would, as it always did in such matters. That answer must come from within, not without.

*****

Predictably, the Praetor had a few questions of his own, beginning with the same old ones.

“Tell me again,” the Praetor demanded. “What is your real rank and service organization?”

“How many different ways do I have to say this?”, a tired, frustrated, irritated Giselle had countered. “I am not currently in the Service. Most recently, I worked for the Government, as a civilian, but they canned me.”

“Your killing skills are too precise not to be professional,” the Praetor continued. “Your swordcraft exceeds any we have ever seen. This new killing method you have displayed goes beyond any capability your species has ever exhibited. The only references to it we can find are in your literature and motion pictures. Even our warriors cannot do that technique. I ask you again: what is your rank and Service?”

“I was a soldier,” a testy Giselle responded, “but that is no big wup to you guys, now is it? I am not on active duty, therefore I meet the basic criteria of your candidate selection process. Our records archive is in St. Louis, Missouri. Look me up. Make sure you spell it right; they’re fussy about that. Whatever ‘killing skills’ I may possess, I owe to someone else.”

*****

Mike Blair had been the best. He had led an LRP team in Viet Nam. He was a lieutenant then, attached to Company B (Ranger) 75th Infantry Regiment. The name “Long Range Patrol” had been phased out, just as had the previous “Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol”, but once a Lurp, always a Lurp. He had first met his teammates during their rotation through MACV Recondo School at Nha Trang. The five were all Northern Cheyenne, descendants of Hotamitaneo – Dog Men. The six of them had worked so well together, their commanders had agreed to keep the team intact.

He had built on their proud tradition, training them in techniques even the Army didn’t know. In turn, he had received from them the gift of their deep spirituality and warrior spirit. He combined that with his own, acquired during his years of apprenticeship to the Togakure Clan. He had felt better, stronger for it. He knew he would need that strength to face the ordeal ahead.

Together, they had forged a new identity and reputation known on both sides of the 17th Parallel. They were revered – and feared – as ghosts who appeared out of nowhere, struck, and vanished into thin air. They had earned the singular distinction of having a price put on their heads by no less than General Vo Nugyen Giap himself. Friend and foe alike respected the six ‘dog soldiers’ – five Cheyenne and one Illini – and knew them not by their official unit designation, but by the name they had chosen for themselves: Wolfen. 

They had to be the best; they had the hairiest assignment in the entire Southeast Asia Command. Where other teams were sent to do straight recon, lay ambushes, perform acts of sabotage, rescue prisoners, spot for air strikes or perform Bomb Damage Assessment for the Air Force, the Army called upon Mike Blair to perform a task only his unique skills could accomplish: to infiltrate the most secure areas of enemy territory and seek out their newest Russian, Chinese or other weapons technology. 

He was to recover a sample, if possible. Otherwise, he reverse-engineered the weapon in place, taking photographs and drawing sketches, detailing his uncannily-accurate interpretations of what it did and how. Then, his team would exfiltrate in a manner such that the enemy would not know they had been there. On the occasions when their adversaries did discover them, the Wolfen made them wish they hadn’t.

*****

Giselle was unsure of how to smooth things over with the Praetor, but she was giving it her best effort.

“You brought me here to do a job. OK, I’m doing it. Are your people dissatisfied with my performance?”

“To your credit,” the Praetor intoned, “the audience approval ratings for your – how do your people put it? – ‘late night show’ were the highest ever recorded for a single day’s viewing. Given the reputation those creatures have on the Golganthan home world, your opponents would certainly express their appreciation for the actions taken by you and your mate – if they knew, of course.”

“I am so glad your people enjoyed the show,” Giselle replied dryly. Then, the realization of the Praetor’s words hit her. “My… mate?”, she inquired accusingly.

“Yes,” returned the Arcturan. “We picked someone with whom we believed you would be most compatible. Again, the audience has been most enthusiastic with our selection – especially in light of his developing combat skills.”

“Yes,” snorted an irate Giselle, “I can see where they would be. Although, I must confess I missed the memo identifying my urgent need for a Significant Other. Do you play yenta for all your contestants, or am I just the lucky one?”

“Would you like to be rid of him?”, the Praetor inquired. “I am certain we could acquire one of your professional wrestlers to take his place.”

“DON’T YOU DARE!”, Giselle exploded. Restraining her temper, she continued.

“This one is more than satisfactory.”

“Indeed?” the Praetor inquired. “We were not certain. You seem to be resisting coitus with him. The audience is getting impatient.”

“Well, gee, we can’t have that, now can we?”, Giselle interjected sarcastically. “What’s the rush, anyway?”

“Many of our females have expressed a degree of… discomfort watching the Golganthans mate. The general sentiment is, they do it like pigs.”

“Well of course they do,” Giselle seethed. “What did you expect? They are pigs! I’ll bet your males are OK with it, though. Am I right?”

“Well, yes. The overnights are….”

“Yeah, I get the idea. How did I know? If your people are so hot to trot to see me hot to trot, I’m gonna need a few things up front.”

“And that would be…?”

“First, my laptop,” she stated.

“Your laptop…?”

“Computer,” the Blonde explained. “I have three days’ worth of journal entries to key in. I don’t want to forget anything.”

“Journal entries,” the Arcturan repeated. “Oh, you mean your diary? Yes, by all means, that would be… permissible. What else?”




Once A Wolf Ch. 04



“Well, I would have to make certain my… mate was ‘up for it’, so to speak. I will need a few things to get him in the right mood….”

*****

If Geoff wasn’t delusional, he was something akin to it. In his dreams, his mind kept replaying a white flash – a furry white flash. His mind could make out no other detail, save one. It had not been lunging at him; at least, not that time. What had it been? Yeti? No; they weren’t white. A polar bear? Ice Monsters of Hoth? Get serious, Geoff. Perhaps it was a Golganthan nightmare after all. He had visions of a shadowy white monster that was the other Golganthan terror. Would it vanish, like the ant and Leatherface? Or did that only happen after you faced, and vanquished it? In his tormented dreams, he feared the beast was still out there, waiting, ready to pounce again.

The sun was streaming through the mouth of the cave when he opened his eyes. Giselle was opposite him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She was sitting with her back to the cave wall, legs outstretched, with a notebook computer seated on her lap! As he stirred, she observed him to be awake, saved and shut down her computer, then rose smoothly to her feet and came to him. Her smile warmed him like the rays of the sun which streamed in from outside.

“Hey, Tiger. Nice to see you awake. You took quite a snooze.”

“The Arcturans gave you a notebook computer?” Geoff asked.

“They let me have mine,” Giselle replied. “I had to catch up on my Dear Diary entries.”

“They must be pretty important to you.”

“Indispensable. How are you feeling?”

“Slightly better. I have a bit of a headache, but I think the patient will live.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It really wouldn’t be the same around here without you.”

“Yes, it would be better for you. I wouldn’t be holding you back.”

Her smile vanished. She sat down next to him. Her eyes softened as she beheld him.

“Don’t even think that. It would be a damn sight worse. I meant what I said earlier. You saved my life while I slept. Don’t think for a moment I take that lightly – or you for granted.”

“We don’t know the Night Stalkers would have found us in the cave, or even known we were there,” Geoff responded.

“We don’t know they wouldn’t have,” Giselle retorted. “The thought of being ripped to shreds while I slept is terrifying. But that didn’t happen, thanks to you.”

“They almost killed me in the process. I have nowhere near your capability.”

“You have nowhere near my experience,” she corrected. “You have every bit my capability, if not more so. You have proven that; first with the Golganthan, then with the Night Stalker. Geoffrey, in combat, veteran soldiers rarely make an effort to get to know replacements because the ‘newbies’ usually get killed before anyone has a chance to get to know them. Anyone else in your position would probably already be dead. You have a bump on the head, plus two battles and one confirmed kill under your belt – and all of that happened on your second day. The experience will come, and the skill with it. I am honored to have you on my team. I feel I have someone I can trust to watch my back. You have no idea what a relief that is.”

He didn’t see how he was anywhere near capable to “watch her back”, but he felt better than he had in the last three days. Still, he felt he had to further earn her respect. He attempted to rise.

“It’s late,” he intoned. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long. The Golganthans…”

She stayed him with a gentle palm to his chest.

“…will wait. They won’t be going anywhere today – and neither will you. You have a concussion, Geoffrey. Let’s give it a chance to mend.”

“But the Arcturans will be expecting…”

“…nothing. I’ve already had a little tete á tete with the Praetor. The Arcturans were thrilled with your ‘performance’ last night. They feel they are watching a warrior in the making. Apparently, that is a cherished rite-of-passage in Arcturan society. The Praetor indicated they were really excited at the prospect of watching you ‘bloom’. He indicated they would not object to you taking the day to ‘lick your wounds’. You may even have earned a weapon of your own, rather than a hand-me-down. Oh, and I was able to clear up our little misunderstanding concerning the ‘care package’ we gave the Golganthans as well.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I merely pointed out to him it would be boring at best and a letdown at worst if we allowed the Golganthans to expire from their injuries so soon, and away from combat at that. My impression was the Arcturans have had experience with that scenario in the past. I told him, by aiding our opponents in their recovery, we would be prolonging the Tournament - and the Arcturans’ enjoyment. He actually called it ‘sporting’ of us.”

“You sly dog.”

Giselle smiled and winked.

“Guilty as charged. Now, rest. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Although Geoff lay down, he felt he was floating on air. For the first time since his arrival, he truly felt part of the team.



Once A Wolf Ch. 05



The Third Evening

She heard them come, three of them. These were skilled, accomplished pack hunters. Their presence, taken in context with the ants and Leatherface, confirmed her earlier suspicions about the nature of the menace they faced. On the other hand, it also signaled a measure of hope. For the first time, she could sense a chance for real victory. She was glad she had requested her laptop when she did. First, she would deal with this new menace; then….

She could make them out in the amber-tinged light. They were man-sized, though longer with the tail. The well-developed jaws flashed about a zillion sharp teeth. The prehensile arms would only be a danger if she allowed them to get close enough to grab her, and that wouldn’t happen. She was more concerned with that single, curved claw on each foot. 

They were sniffing, searching out the scent of prey as their kind always did, always had. They maintained their distance from each other, hunting in a loose ambush formation as good soldiers would. They moved stealthily, but not so much so that she would not have been able to stalk them by sound alone. She was not a novice like Geoff. These hunters would have to earn their victory – and that would not happen this night.

She took the first by surprise. It had been ignorant of her presence and died that way, its abdomen slashed, entrails spilt out, severed tendons unable to support its body. It had barked a warning to the other two, that strange honk emanating from the sounding chamber in its head. The second charged quickly, nearly cheetah speed, in the direction of the first – not nearly quick enough. Its vision was acute, but not in this light. It probably smelled her, but charged blindly in answer to its stricken companion’s call. Big mistake. It fell within a yard of the first, its head severed, a fountain of dark blood gushing forth from its trunk. 

That left the third. It was not in the nature of the species to know fear, to run. Too bad; it might have survived. She advanced on it a little, allowing it to have the scent of her – toying with it. She allowed it to approach, get within range, but not quite within grasping range. It raised its foot to strike, as she had manipulated it to do. She took the claw, and foot, with a single pass of her blade. The beast fell over on its side, tail whipping, arms and remaining foot flailing. It bellowed to the night in pain and rage. 

She took her time, slicing away the remaining foot and arms like a Christmas turkey, then wiped and re-sheathed her sword. It thrashed before her in confusion and agony. She could see its heart hammering within its chest and timed the contortions of the body. Her left arm flashed out, hand straight and stiff. There was a sickening crunch of rending flesh and shattering bone. The heart was in her hand now, still beating, but slowing by the second. The form at her feet slowed its movements, too - then was still. 

Never hunt a hunter!

“GISELLE! I heard a commotion. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine, Geoffrey. Let’s go back to bed. It was all just a bad dream.”

She turned to view the three vanquished dromaeosaurs one more time in the bright amber light. She knew they would be gone long before morning – like all the rest.

V. mongoliensis. These had been on a par with the public perception, thanks to the movie – exactly what humans would fear. She had seen that movie so many times - just as she had seen the movies of the giant ants and Leatherface. Giselle had feared them all, once. That was then; this is now. She passed her companion and returned to the cave. Velociraptors, she mused. All in a night’s work. 

Geoff peered out into the night to see what had caused such a row. As with the previous night, there was no moon. This night, there was next to no starlight, either. Try as he might, he could not discern a thing in the near-total blackness. He shrugged his shoulders, turned, and returned to the cave – and her.

*****

Mike had been hunted once – by the entire 134th NVA Regiment. It had been his last mission, inside North Viet Nam, and their exit had gone really, really wrong. A four-day running gunbattle had ended on the main wharf of Haiphong. Along the way, he and his team had commandeered a truck that had, to their surprise, contained POWs; Lieutenant Colonel Adam Sampson, USAF, and the three surviving crewmen of his downed EB-66. The Vietnamese had been about to ship them to the Soviet Union for a special ‘debriefing’. Instead, they were now on their way home – if Mike and his team could get them out. It was a blessing to have the extra hands manning guns, but with it came the added responsibility of making sure their sensitive knowledge of electronic warfare did not fall back into enemy hands.

The Wolfen had been in the process of stealing a motor launch in the dead of night when they were spotted by a crewman of the Soviet freighter, the Novosibersk, moored across the way. Mike had hustled the airmen and his team into the launch – he had had to bodily throw his second in command into the boat - then stayed behind to cover their retreat. He had been low on ammo for his own weapon, but there were several tons of Russian munitions, explosives, missiles, diesel fuel and gasoline arrayed on the wharf before him. 

He had held off the attackers with a Russian 12.7mm heavy machine gun, but there were just too many. His guys weren’t out of range of the heavier guns yet. This wasn’t part of the vow he had made so long ago, but he wasn’t going to let his team down. He thought briefly of the Hotamitaneo tradition of staking themselves to the ground beneath them, unwilling to yield until their people were safely away. He had hoped their ancestors would appreciate what he was about to do…. Lieutenant Michael A.J. Blair, Company B (Ranger), Seventy-fifth Infantry Regiment, popped a 40mm grenade into its launcher, aimed at the middle of a stand of gasoline drums, and calmly pulled the trigger.

The first explosion lit up the night sky, followed immediately by a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth. The wharf, ship, and surrounding water were engulfed in a sea of flame. Thundering blasts rolled across the harbor one after another as the munitions cooked off, like some insane Fourth of July spectacle. Finally, one last, massive explosion obliterated the wharf and the Novosibersk, flattened every building within two hundred yards and damaging every other within a half-mile. The five remaining Wolfen and their rescued comrades slipped into the gathering gloom. Once again, no one remained to reveal the team had accomplished their mission – and then some. They left behind a surreal landscape of devastation – and one very good friend, for whom they were, even then, saying a prayer.

Giselle had grieved, mourned his loss, then gotten on with the business of living, as people do. She knew he would have wanted it that way. His cause had been a noble one and she took it up as her own. She knew he would have wanted that, too. Master Hatsumi and the rest of Mike’s surrogate ‘family’ in Ueno accepted her in his memory. They had respected Ajax-san. She would see to it they respected her, too, before she left them. Never again!

*****

Geoff re-entered the cave. He beheld her, standing there in the lantern light, and gasped in horror.

“Dear God, you are hurt! Where, and how badly?”

She just stared at him as though he were delusional again.

“No, I’m fine, really. What made you think….”

She followed his gaze to her tunic…. The second raptor had spattered her with its blood as it fell. The new stains on her tunic were red. Hemoglobin! Giselle just stared dumbly. She wasn’t quite certain what that meant, but she had a hunch. If she were correct, it would explain everything. She turned and made for the rear passage, peeling off her tunic as she went. She called to him over her shoulder.

“Wait here for me. I’ll just go wash this out and be back in a few minutes.”

*****

“Do I want to know what just went on outside?” Geoff inquired upon her return.

Giselle shrugged her shoulders a little.

“More of the same, actually,” she replied. “Just things that go bump in the night.”

Geoff stared at his feet, feeling much smaller than his actual stature.

“You should have woken me. I should have been there, at your side, injury or not. I hate being a burden like this. Tell me this much; was it our ‘bad dream’, or theirs? I was having one of my own at the time.”

She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Geoff this whole tournament is one continuous bad dream. And you are not a burden. You are the most delightful surprise, and the only good thing, to come out of this experience so far. You stood alone and faced the Night Stalkers. Allow me this. There will be plenty of opportunities ahead for you to fight by my side and I will welcome you with all my heart. Now, if you feel up to it, tell me about your dream. The ‘doctor’ is in.”

“I’m embarrassed to. It was so infantile. Scary monsters and such – even while you were battling the real thing. Better I had dreamt about lions and tigers and bears.”

Giselle smiled bemusedly.

“Oh my!”

He grinned sheepishly.

His grin faded. Geoff was already seated on the cave floor, his back against the wall. Giselle stood next to him. He tugged gently on her arm. She took the cue and sat down beside him. He pursed his lips and stared at a spot on the cave floor. She could sense what would come next. Part of her dreaded it.

“We have been together three days now,” he began, “literally through Life and Death. Yet, I still know nothing about you. You are obviously intelligent, educated, gifted, and an experienced, accomplished soldier. Yet you told the Praetor you were ‘unemployed’. How can that be?”

It was her turn to stare at the floor.

“First, thank you for all the lovely compliments,” she replied. “Yes, I was a soldier at one time, but haven’t been for a while now; otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. Yes, I really am unemployed. I suppose a more accurate term would be mostly unemployed. My last full-time job ended over two years ago.”

“Whom did you work for?”

“DARPA.”

“DARPA?”

“The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency; the same folks that brought you the Internet, among other things. I was engaged in weapons research.”

“What weapons?”

“You know that is covered under the Official Secrets Act.”

“Of course. I apologize.”

She placed her hand on his arm.

“Having said that, let’s get real. As you so astutely pointed out when we first met, it’s just the two of us here. What can the Pentagon and Justice Department do to me the Arcturans won’t do first, and worse? I was attached to Project Lorelei.”

“Lorelei? What a lovely name.”

“Yes, it was a lovely, innocuous name for a thoroughly lethal prospect; yet another attempt by the Pentagon to develop the ‘ultimate weapon’.”

“Another of your infamous American thermonuclear Doomsday devices?”

“A ‘doomsday device’, perhaps, but not a nuclear one; at least, not directly. Lorelei was classified as a ‘battlefield annihilatance’; a close-support infantry weapon meant to deliver devastating destructive force against enemy troops and logistics on the ground. Unlike helicopters or other attack aircraft, once Lorelei was inserted, it would stay in place until it was no longer needed. It was a fully autonomous, self-propelled, all-weather, all-terrain combat module. Its audio-visual acuity was second to none. It even had integrated night vision. Once targeted, Lorelei would seek out and destroy its objective without intervention or pause; true ‘fire-and-forget’ technology.

“Lorelei was an adaptive weapons system as well. It could integrate other weapons into its own functionality to meet the requirements of its mission. It was designed to be nimble, fast, powerful, tough, survivable, and to take an awesome amount of punishment while still fulfilling its mission. In fact, the weapon could repair itself in the field and thus maintain its operational status. Lorelei’s most incredible feature, the one that put it off the charts over all existing weapons technology, was its inherent Stealth properties. In its native mode, it simply did not look like a weapon. That added to its survivability in and out of combat, as well as adding a new versatility to its mission scope. Testing proved Lorelei was so adaptable, it could literally re-configure itself to conform to changing battlefield conditions and/or mission requirements.

“For all of that, it was compact, lightweight, easily-transportable and relatively cheap to produce. At a time when my government routinely spends two billion dollars on each Nimitz-class aircraft carrier, two-point-one billion on a Seawolf submarine, and six hundred dollars on a single toilet seat, the entire Lorelei project came in at a shade under two-hundred-fifty million. That’s a ‘real steal’, in Pentagon terms.”

“You are describing one of those bloody terminators, like in the movies.”

Giselle grimaced.

“We hated that term – and the comparison. There was no ‘Sky Net’ involved in our project, and no earthly prospect that it would ever get out of hand like that. It was a grim, deadly little design, but was never intended to lay waste to an entire race or planet - not like the Arcturans do so casually. Still, there were those who viewed Lorelei’s capabilities as deserving the Terminator comparison. Swifty and I were really proud of it.”

“Swifty?”

“Brigadier General Robert Prescott Pike, United States Marine Corps - my boss on the project. He got his nickname from his days as a football player at the Naval Academy. Lorelei was his ‘baby’ from the start – right to the end.”

“You speak of it in the past tense. What happened to Lorelei?”

Giselle sighed deeply.

“It became a victim of the Pentagon Procurements Game. Lorelei wasn’t considered ‘sexy’ enough – not like a Nimitz or Seawolf. Other, higher ranking officers with bigger egos, bigger agendas, and more glamorous, high-visibility projects had more clout in the budget-making process. They saw our early failures, made a case that our design wasn’t ‘viable’, and made the case stick. Over time, our funding evaporated. Eventually, the project was shut down entirely. All materials were ordered shredded or otherwise destroyed. Swifty got early retirement. I lost my job, but he pulled some strings and got me another assignment.”

*****

She remembered that last night she and Swifty Pike had been together. They did the only thing they could do under the circumstances; they got drunk. In a nameless booth of a nameless bar in Georgetown, they toasted their dear, departed careers until they were toasted themselves. He was drunk enough to ask her why she had been so insistent, driven, to join the absurd little-project-that-could in the first place. She was drunk enough to tell him.

He had just stared at her, not quite knowing what to say and, in his then-current state, not really able to speak coherently anyway. It never occurred to him to doubt her. They walked outside into the cool night air. It was an awkward, painful parting. They shook hands, then stood to attention and saluted each other. 

“Semper Fi,” she intoned.

“Carry on,” he replied.

They turned and walked their separate ways; he to his retirement, she to her next duty station. He turned to watch her disappear into the shadows.

Carry on? He mused. Dear God, yes. PLEASE.

*****

“I’m terribly sorry. You make it sound like a brilliant piece of ordnance. It really is a shame you never developed a working prototype.”

She just stared at him. Finally, she smiled a cryptic little smile. It took him a moment to catch on.

“Oh, my God. You actually did it? You actually created Lorelei?”

“Officially, no. It wasn’t on anyone’s radar screen. The Pentagon cancelled the project just as we were preparing our final report. As I already said, all materials were ordered destroyed. Most of the staff was already gone, due to the budget cuts. The Brass didn’t even want to know what we had accomplished. Now, no one remembers the project existed in the first place, much less produced anything.”

“It must have killed you to have to destroy your ‘baby’ when the directive came down.”

Giselle just pursed her lips and smiled again. Her eyes twinkled. Geoff smelled a rat. He worded his question as he would to a child.

“Giselle, what did you do with the weapon of mass destruction?”

“Well, I couldn’t see spending all that time, money, and effort to develop Lorelei, only to toss it on some scrapheap, so I… took it home.”

“You took a multi-million-dollar piece of battlefield ordnance HOME? Where did you put it, in the closet?”

“Well, sort of.”

It wasn’t a lie; not really. Geoff stared at her incredulously, at a loss for words. Finally, he recovered the presence of mind to utter the only thing he could think of.

“It must be a great way to rid yourself of unwanted guests.”

“That, and door-to-door salesmen.”

It took some five minutes for the laughter to subside enough to resume their conversation.

“Tell me. You say you are mostly unemployed. So… you have a part-time job?”

“You could put it that way, yes.”

“For whom?”

“I do odd jobs for the Defense Intelligence Agency.”

“What? You went from secret weapons development to becoming a… spy?”

“In so many words, yes. Actually, what I do is just a mirror image of what I had been doing before. Instead of developing new weapons systems, I spy on other people’s weapons systems. That is what DIA does. That is an old, proud tradition, too.”

She didn’t tell him how old, nor how long she had been doing it, or that it was just one of the specialties she did for DIA. There had been other covert ops training as well, including the most frightening ‘special weapons training’ of all, at Sea-Tac Naval Ordnance Depot. She had become good at the new skills, too; all of them.

Then, an old friend had paid her a visit. The friend had told her, if she wanted to live up to her full potential, she would have to make other changes as well – changes of a deeply personal nature. Well, why not? It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before. At least, Giselle would be in control of the What, Where, and How Much. All things considered, the process hadn’t really been that much of a hardship on her – and the results….

In the end, she had become as Geoff had met her three days before – and countless other men before that. It hadn’t been all bad. There were ‘perks’ that came with her stunning new looks. She had actually come to enjoy the whole thing. Most importantly, her otherworldly beauty – and a few little ‘skills’ she learned along the way – gained her access to places other operatives couldn’t even hope to penetrate. Then, it had been just part of the job. Now, with Geoff….

“Now, tell me, Good Sir, about your life as a soon-to-be-King,” Giselle intoned.

“I’m not so ‘soon-to-be’. I should think there is not much left of these old bones that the tabloids have not already picked clean. My life? It is a duty, like any other.”

Giselle placed her hand gently on his arm.

“I will have to disagree with you there. I know something about duty and yours is vastly unlike any other. Granted, we ‘Colonials’ may be a bit out of the loop when it comes to Royalty….”




Once A Wolf Ch. 05



“Your fault, not ours,” Geoff quipped

“Touché. Allow a girl her romantic notions of what being King is all about.”

“Do go on. I really must hear this.”

“Well, first, a King defines and defends the limits of his Kingdom. Inherent within that is the understanding of what is defensible. Second, he takes stock of all the resources available to him within his realm; real and personal, animal, vegetable, mineral, and so on. Once he has compiled his ‘Domesday Book’, he lends order to it, organizing his resources to The Realm’s best advantage. He leads by example, not decree. He consults with his Ministers, yet allows them to do their jobs. He is friend to kings and commoners alike. Most importantly, he is an inspiration to his people, making them proud of whom they are, yet determined to make themselves better still, in his image.”

Geoff did his best to stifle a smile.

“Well, you did warn me you were ‘out of the loop’; a good three to four hundred years out, or thereabouts. I rather liked the ‘inspiration’ part. And we are expected to set an example. Living up to that, under constant scrutiny, is the most difficult part. As for the rest, I wish it were like that. You make it all sound so romantic. Well, Milady, this ‘soon-to-be-King’ considers himself blessed to share your company.”

“Thank you, Milord. This ‘lady’ feels twice-blessed, to share your company and to count you as my Champion.”

“I suspect it is more the other way ‘round, but thank you,” he offered. “So, this part-time job of yours. Does it pay well?”

“It keeps a roof over my head and the utilities on,” was her response.

She didn’t tell him about the series of ‘individual retirement accounts’ she had established under different identities, funded through creative expense reporting - another proud ‘tradition’ in weapons development and spycraft. In reality, she would never have to work again if she chose not to.

“Where would that be?” Geoff inquired.

She smiled alluringly, unclipped her hair and shook it out. The thick, wavy hair draped past her shoulder blades.

“Los Angeles. I’m a ‘California Girl’. Couldn’t you tell?”

“I should have guessed; the ubiquitous ‘six-foot blonde from Tinseltown’.”

They both laughed again. The laughter subsided, and they just gazed at one another. He broke the silence first.

“Would you be willing to consider other… opportunities?”

Giselle just stared at him for a moment. He thought he had overstepped his bounds. Then, she smiled.

“I might – if the package was attractive enough.”

Geoff gazed at her lips, within inches of his own.

“What would that ‘package’ have to include?”

She pressed her body against his and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Oh, I think we have most of the basics covered. We’ll just have to… hammer out the details. Hopefully, the mission won’t go to shit during the negotiations.”

*****

She soared silently through the night sky, high above the terrain. A gentle breeze provided most of the lift. She had only to flap her white-tipped wings occasionally to provide forward momentum. She extended her senses, wary of Night Stalkers or any other nocturnal threat she might not yet be aware of. If need be, she was willing to match up her beak and talons to theirs any day. Sharp eyes in her white-crested head scanned the ground below, searching for signs of Golganthan activity or anything else that might seem out-of-place. The stand of forest, starkly illuminated in the amber-tinged light, definitely fit that definition. She noted its position, vowing to return the next day. After a bit more exploration, she gracefully wheeled about and returned to the cave – and her slumbering companion. 



Once A Wolf Ch. 06



The Fourth Morning

When Giselle awoke, she found Geoff lying next to her with his head propped up on his hand, admiring her. She smiled and mirrored his pose.

“Good morning, Tiger. If you are going to stare a hole through me, you could at least let me know so I could make myself a little more presentable.”

“I can’t imagine you any more presentable than you are at this moment,” he rejoined. “I feel much better this morning, thanks to you. Really. I just felt like I needed to get up and do something, so I decided to explore a bit.”

“You are supposed to be resting. So, you were exploring… what, the ‘cavern’ between my boobs?”

“Sorry,” he replied, not sounding the least bit like he was. “I got sidetracked. I snooped around one of the passages we hadn’t looked into yet and found something really bizarre.”

“You found something ‘really bizarre’ in this place?” she asked bemusedly. 

He laughed.

“See for yourself!”

Giselle accepted Geoff’s hand up and followed him through the previously unexplored passageway. The boulder almost completely filled the chamber in which it stood. They could see over its top – barely. There was enough space to comfortably move single-file between the boulder and the chamber’s rock wall. Neither Geoff nor Giselle had a clue how such a massive piece of rock had come to rest in so small a chamber, although both suspected it was not a natural occurrence. 

They made their way around its perimeter, Geoff in the lead. Suddenly, Giselle reached out and grabbed the back of his tunic, restraining him from taking another step.

“Careful,” she cautioned. “You almost stepped on it.”

Geoff followed the direction of her gaze and saw… the hilt of a sword.

The sword lay at right angles to their path; he would have stepped on it with his next footfall. The hilt was elongated, designed for a two-handed grip, like a Claymore or Giselle’s shinobikatana. The handguard was a straight, somewhat-oval-shaped bar. There were rounded tips at either end, matching the pommel. It was difficult to determine how long the double-edged blade was, for only a few inches of blade above the handguard were visible. The rest extended under the great stone that occupied most of the room.

“They are messing with us,” was Geoffrey’s muttered curse. 

Giselle stifled a grin at his use of the American idiom.

“Then we should mess with them right back,” she replied. “This is your weapon. The Arcturans want to see if you are cunning enough to secure it. I am thinking this is a warrior’s ‘graduation exercise’ in their society.”

After several fruitless pushes, he got nowhere in moving the huge piece of rock. His level of frustration was evident.

“I see what you mean about people ‘jerking your chain.’ What do I do now?” he expounded angrily.

“A King would know what to do,” was her reply.

He caught himself before he snapped off something he knew they would both regret later. Instead, he thought back to what she had said before about what kings do/I>.

“Very well, Minister,” he retorted with as much good cheer as he could muster. “What would you recommend?”

“Don’t raise the bridge; lower the river. Dig,” she replied cheerily.

“Dig?” he inquired.

“That’s right. Dig. Dirt floor.”

Even in the semi-light, his embarrassment was obvious.

“I am so stupid….”

He used the belt knife to carefully dig a furrow under and around the blade, doing his utmost to avoid contact with the edge. Once he was through the top crust, the soft soil beneath displaced easily in his bare hands. After a while, he had all but a few inches at the tip exposed. He was at an impasse; he could not reach far enough in to unearth those last few inches.

“I’m not sure what to do now,” he called out. “I’ve dug as far in as I can reach. Perhaps if I can just move the stone an inch or two, I might….”

With a grinding crunch, the stone above him slammed into the opposite wall. The sword sprang free in his hand. Sensing an imminent rebound, Geoff quickly rolled away in the opposite direction – just as the stone rolled back into its original position. He peered up into Giselle’s innocently-smiling face. She shrugged her shoulders just a little.

“The bottom of the boulder must be irregularly shaped, forming a natural fulcrum. Your digging probably unbalanced it just enough to allow me to roll it. It wasn’t all that. I’m hungry. Let’s go up front and have some lunch. Then, we can take a closer look at what you have.”

Giselle exited the chamber and headed for the front of the cave. Geoff rested the sword on the chamber floor against the wall, then gave a few exploratory heaves against the stone. Nothing; not even a twitch. He decided it really had been “all that” after all. He picked up his prize and hurried after his retreating companion. Who was this complex, mysterious woman? What was she?

*****

Geoff worked while he ate, polishing the weapon with one of the hand towels his companion had requisitioned from the Arcturans. They and a goodly stack of MREs were part of the booty she had received for some unexplained previous action. He suspected it had something to do with the terrible row he had heard outside the cave entrance the night before. Early that morning, before he had begun his exploration of the cave, he had stepped outside to see what there was to see. Of course, there had been nothing. He hadn’t expected there to be. By then, he was familiar with the Arcturans and their “challenges”. While he polished, Giselle typed at her computer keyboard.

The challenges may have been the stuff of fantasy but the sword was something real. It was about six inches longer than Giselle’s overall. It had more heft to it, yet was well balanced for both striking and thrusting. It felt natural in his hands. Beneath the caked-on dirt, the metal was brightly polished. As he had suspected, it had an edge as well. A casual brush of blade against fabric had accidentally sliced his fatigues without his even realizing it. Despite being pinned beneath the massive stone, it appeared to be none the worse for wear.

It finally hit him while he was cleaning the blade. The Sword in the Stone!

“The Sword… under the Stone?” 

He mulled those words carefully in his mind after uttering them aloud. Giselle giggled at him.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to catch on,” she responded. “I heard that version on The History Channel. Arthur rallied his knights to roll the stone away, allowing him to recover Excalibur. That is the mark of a true King, just as I said before; not some macho feat of personal strength. Personally, I think that version has much more credence than the original. I guess the Arcturans watch our television as well as movies.”

He looked at her sheepishly.

“But in the end, I used a ‘macho feat of strength’, as you put it, to free the sword. It wasn’t even my own.”

Giselle smiled bemusedly, cupped his chin in her hand and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“No, you did not,” she replied. “You used your intellect. You surveyed the resources available to you and used them to your best advantage, as a true King would. Arthur himself could not have done it better.”

“I had help,” Geoff confessed.

“So did Arthur. He had the counsel of Merlin, plus Guinevere, Lancelot, and all the Knights of the Round Table. In the manner of all great Kings, he added their special gifts to his own, just as you did today. In fact, I believe you are the legend come to life. I think every girl, at one time or another, fantasizes about having a legendary love affair. I’ll bet every one of them would be jealous of me right now.”

Geoffrey smiled.

“Is that your professional opinion?” he asked.

The Platinum-haired Amazon smiled coyly.

“Remember, you heard it here first,” she cooed. “Fuck ‘professional’.”

“For an American, you are exceptionally well-versed in what makes Kings great,” he opined. “I believe that to be just one of your special gifts.”

She smiled and shook her head from side to side.

“I have but one special gift,” she replied softly, “and I have the pleasure of addressing him right now.”

“Do you really believe this is…”

“Excalibur?” Giselle interjected. She shrugged her shoulders a little. “For want of a better name, why not? This is a fitting sword of Kings, recovered by a King in a manner befitting its legend. As to whether it lives up to its reputation, that will be determined by the one who wields it.”

“I am not a King yet. It will be a long time before I sit on a throne.”

“You are a king to me,” she purred. “You are the eight-hundred-pound gorilla. You may sit wherever you wish.”

Geoff stood up, walked over to where she sat, and peered down at what she was typing. Giselle looked a bit embarrassed. She was just about to say something when she was interrupted.

“Hey Boss, who’s the bimbo with the Arkansas Toothpick?”

Geoff looked quickly from side to side, attempting to spot whom had spoken.

“Cold as ice, Joy Boy. Try under your nose.”

“Sadie,stop that,” Giselle spoke quietly, “You’re embarrassing me.”

Geoff lowered his gaze to… Giselle’s computer?

“There you go, Slick. It looks like you’ve got half a brain after all. How about it, Boyfriend? Double or nothing?”

“Oh, this is exactly what I need,” Geoff declared, a note of irritation in his voice. “I am being insulted by a Game Boy with delusions of grandeur!”

“Ooooo, sorry Sparky; you lost the bet. Here’s Don Pardo to describe your consolation prize.”

“Isn’t there a round of Donkey Kong that demands your immediate attention?”

“STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU!” Giselle shouted. “I didn’t come all this way to referee a cat fight! Sadie, calculate, to the nearest decimal, the value of Pi. EXECUTE!”

The seething Blonde placed the suddenly-silent notebook on the floor next to her and stood. She snatched the sword from Geoff’s hand, lay it down against the wall, then grabbed him by the wrist.

“YOU. Come with me.”

She marched determinedly into a rear chamber, Geoff in tow. Upon reaching her destination, she turned around and threw the startled prince up against the wall.

“What the Bloody Hell was that all ab…”

That was as far as the angry young man got. The rest of his outburst was smothered by Giselle’s searing kiss. She pressed her body tightly against his. After a few moments of struggle, his righteous indignation gave way to passion and he kissed her back.

Finally, Giselle released her lips from his. Understandably, Geoff was much more subdued than he had been moments before. The blonde beauty leaned her back against the wall, slid down to a sitting position, dragging Geoff with her. She held his hand in hers and just gazed into his eyes.

“I apologize for that,” she began. “That was really, really rude of her.”

“Her?”

Giselle nodded.

“That is Sadie,” the blonde Amazon continued. “She has been with me for a while now.”

“Excuse me?” Geoff replied incredulously. “She is ‘with you’? I am not understanding this.”

The young woman stared at the ceiling.

“Understand I have been alone for a very long time,” Giselle explained. “Everyone needs companionship, someone to talk to. Some people get a cat. Others get a bird. I have Sadie.”

“She is your pet?”

“No! She is my companion,” Giselle replied. “I wanted something – someone - to keep me company without the high-maintenance hassles regular pets require. So, I have Sadie.”

“She sounds real,” Geoff observed.

“For all intents and purposes, she is,” the blonde beauty affirmed. Sadie is an AI – Artificial Intelligence – program. She learns. She reasons. She reacts.”

“She’s a bitch,” Geoff added. “Where did you acquire a program like that?”

“I didn’t acquire her,” Giselle explained. “I wrote her. She’s a bitch because I modeled her after me. I can be bitchy sometimes, too.”

“I believe the correct response here is: ‘No Shit’,” Geoff observed. “Why did she go off on me that way? How did she even know I was standing there?”

“Geoff, my laptop has all the goodies; three-point-two gigahertz processor, one hundred twenty gigabyte hard drive, one gigabyte of Double Data Rate memory, integrated video camera and microphone, Wi-Fi network connectivity, the works. Sadie ‘saw’ you. As to why she ‘went off ‘ on you, well… as I said, we have been together for a while now, and she’s a little… possessive of me.”

Geoff just looked at her dumbly.

“Do I understand you correctly? Am I competing with a lesbian laptop for your affections?”

“NO, Dammit,” Giselle exclaimed in frustration. “There is no competition. I am not some damn trophy. You win, hands down. I live in the real world, not virtual reality. Sadie is good company when I need it, but she…is…not…you. She could never hold me when I need to be held, watch over me while I sleep, convince me things will be all right when they aren’t, then make it so. You can, and do. That is why we are here, together, at this moment, while she is up front, locked in a transcendental calculation. It would be easy for me to say: ‘she was with me before you entered my life and she will be with me long after you have gone’, but that is not how I feel.”

With that, she kissed him again, passionately.

“That is how I feel. That is what I want. OK?”

“Can’t you just shut her down?” Geoff inquired.

“No, I can’t,” Giselle responded. “I can’t go into specifics right now. I can only tell you I need her. We need her. I need to ask you to trust me on this one. Will you do that for me?”

Geoff’s smile was a bit forced. At least, he tried.

“You know I will. It wouldn’t occur to me not to. Giselle?”

“Yes, Geoffrey?”

“When this is all over….”

“Yes?”

“May I just give you a puppy at Christmas?”

For that, she elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.

*****

The Arcturans had rewarded the pair for their ingenuity in recovering the sword. During lunch, a medical kit, largish black ballistic nylon pouch, and scabbard had appeared on the cave floor. The scabbard had a harness assembly which the Arcturans had obviously copied from Giselle’s. With the scabbard, Geoffrey was able to sling the sword across his back and draw over his shoulder, as his companion did. Her cautions on the process were redundant. He told her he was already full aware of the risks of an overeager draw so close to the neckline.

Giselle appeared no stranger to the nylon pouch and snatched it up. Geoff had inquired after it. She smiled and replied it was a little ‘bonus’ in the weapons department that might come in handy later. Then, she changed the subject.

Over a two-hour period, she stepped through more advanced combat swordsmanship techniques with him. She taught him the philosophy, breathing, and basic movements of the Iai fast-draw, combined with elements of the Battojutsu attacks that could defeat an enemy before he had a chance to react, as she had done to the ant. Again, she stressed he concentrate on form at that stage; speed would come later.

“Giselle, I was wondering. How long do you think it will be before the Arcturans advance us to more… modern weapons?”

She gazed into his eyes serenely.

“You mean like assault weapons, grenades and the like? They may get around to it eventually. If they do, we will use them because the Golganthans will also. I’m rather hoping we can wrap this up before they do.”

“Why?”

Giselle took her companion’s hand and sat down with him. She chose her words carefully.

“Geoffrey, Technology can be wonderful, but it is inherently unsafe. The more advanced and destructive the technology becomes, the more difficult it is to control. The process of dealing death becomes so easy, any idiot can do it – and will. The idiot can, with one lucky shot, undo an entire lifetime of training or, in a worst-case scenario, Civilization itself. So-called ‘fail-safes’ aren’t. Any system, even the most complex, can be cracked. I appreciate simple things. They are not necessarily ‘idiot-proof’, but at least they are ‘idiot-resistant’.”

“I have been meaning to ask about you and your ‘simple things’,” Geoff began. “You are amazingly good with a sword. Actually, ‘good’ doesn’t even come close to describing your skill. But soldiers have not depended on these kinds of edged weapons in centuries. You, on the other hand, handle yours as though you had been wielding it all your life. How can that be?”

His companion smiled.

“Geoffrey, my training went well beyond conventional weapons. It’s all about getting the job done with what is available. As it happens, my particular weapons training is a perfect fit for this combat. We talked before about being here, versus being at home. As much as I despise the Arcturans and having to jump through hoops for them, I am glad we are here, rather than someone else. I feel confident we can get the job done with the weapons at hand.”

“Thank you,” Geoff offered quietly.

Giselle looked at him askance.

“For what?” she asked.

“For validating a judgment I made this morning while I watched you sleep,” he replied. “From what I have seen in the past three days plus, I can’t think of anyone I would trust more to do this job than you.”

He leaned over and kissed her then. She broke the kiss, but was not in any hurry about it.

“That wasn’t very professional,” she murmured.

“Sue me,” he challenged.

“You are picking up some of my bad habits,” she cooed – and kissed him back.

*****

Mike had had a champion, too. Giselle was not aware of it until she returned from Japan. Colonel Adam Sampson had gone to the mats with the Pentagon Brass, lobbying for a Medal of Honor for the young Ranger lieutenant. Such was not to be. The peace negotiations were on in Paris. Henry Kissinger and Le Duc Tho were deep in negotiations (Yeah, right; over the shape of the fucking conference table!). There was no way Washington would admit to running a covert op inside a country which, technically, it was not at war with. 

The North Vietnamese would not admit to six men eluding their crack regiment for the better part of a week, rescuing four downed American airmen, stealing a boat, and escaping into the night (there was no one left to tell them one had stayed behind as a rear guard), destroying their major seaport in the process. In the end, both sides had done what they did best; saved face. They swept the entire affair under the rug and never spoke of it in public.

There were a couple of things the Pentagon could do and Colonel Sampson stayed in their faces until it got done. The 75th was reorganizing. All thirteen active companies were being pulled together under a new regimental banner – with an old, proud name. Company B would form the nucleus of the new Second Battalion, with major command headquarters at Fort Lewis, Washington. Since no body had ever been recovered (how could they?), the late lieutenant would be carried on the battalion’s rolls on special status. In addition, the lieutenant would be ‘kicked upstairs’ a couple of floors – or Creighton Abrams was gonna get a complete set of lumps. Oak leaves would be just about right for a genuine hero like that, Adam Sampson thought.

*****

They had come upon the dense stand of trees about an hour into their patrol. It was the topographic anomaly Giselle had noticed the previous night and thought best to check out. This wasn’t like the grove that had led up to their encounter with Leatherface. This was a forest, through which wound the path on which they tread, Geoff in the lead.




Once A Wolf Ch. 06



Giselle’s heightened senses detected the trap before Geoff had a chance to trip it. She caught up with him and placed her arm across his chest, motioning him to stop and stay silent. She crouched and he followed suit. The blonde warrior separated the tripwire from the leaves covering it, following it backward to its source with her eyes. Satisfied with the nature of the booby trap, she motioned Geoff down still further, then gave the chord a yank.

Whooosh – THUD!

The wooden framework with its multiple sharpened spikes that had been lashed to the springy tree limb had embedded deeply into the trunk of the tree on the opposite side of the trail. The ‘bear trap’ would have impaled Geoff against the tree if he had snagged the chord with his boot. Not satisfied she had seen the last of the Golganthan’s cunning, she extracted the combat knife from Geoff’s belt and probed the path on the other side of the tripwire.

She uncovered the punji pit with the third thrust of the knifepoint. It was smallish and not even knee-deep. But the pit contained enough of those same sharpened spikes to shred a human foot, boot or no. If either she or Geoff had spotted the tripwire, and stepped over it….

Geoff was ashen-faced.

“How did you know?”

Giselle shrugged her shoulders.

“Our guys started seeing these combination traps in the Mekong Delta in nineteen sixty-five. Every generation of soldiers since has been taught to watch out for them, and similar booby-traps. Aren’t you glad I didn’t sleep through that class?”

Geoff leaned over and gave her a quick kiss.

“Rah – thur!”

The kiss saved his life. The Golganthan arrow embedded itself in the tree trunk just below the bear trap. If Geoff hadn’t moved his head, the arrow would have penetrated his left temple and likely passed completely through his skull.

“Time to go!” Giselle barked.

She was up in a flash, both hands a blur of motion. They lightly grazed the front of her tunic, then whipped out in different directions. The pellet in her right hand raised a puff of smoke at their feet, masking their sudden flight off the path and through the trees. The four-pointed shuriken zipped from her left hand, whizzed through the air and embedded itself in the Golganthan warrior’s longbow, jerking it to one side. Had the bow not been raised in firing position, the throwing star would have buried itself in his eye. During their mad dash, the Golganthan female suddenly popped up directly to their right, her own bow drawn and read to let fly. On the dead run, Geoff drew his sword, swept left-to-right at chest level, and ran on. The sword’s blade sliced through the longbow, causing the severed halves to snap back into the astonished female’s face and chest, knocking her unconscious and off her feet.

The two Humans stopped to catch their breath some two hundred yards on.

“That was a neat piece of work you did with that sword,” Giselle gasped. “It allowed us to escape cleanly.”

“Uh, not exactly,” Geoff wheezed. Then, he collapsed.

“Oh, God, no,” the Amazon moaned.

The arrow had penetrated back-to-front. The two-tiered triangular stone arrowhead and six inches of shaft protruded through the front of his tunic on the right side. She could tell by the position it had taken his kidney and either a hunk of small intestine or ascending colon, possibly both. Hopefully, it had missed the renal artery – otherwise…. Giselle snapped off the front portion of the arrow. She grabbed the large compression bandage from the med kit and pressed it on the front wound, wrapped the long wings around his torso and tied them off. She packed gauze around the arrow shaft in back and taped it in place. 

She sensed the third arrow, rather than saw it. Geoff’s sword was at her fingertips. In one fluid motion, she drew and swept the air before her, halving the incoming arrow in mid-flight. She was up and away like lightning, bearing down on her porcine stalker. Judging the speed of her approach and aware of the fate of his third arrow, the Golganthan saw the futility of launching a fourth. He saw, instead, the wisdom of a speedy withdrawal.

The good soldier knew the right thing to do was to finish it, right there and then; run him down, cut him to ribbons, then do the unconscious female and be done with it. Earth would be safe once more – at the cost of only one human life. Giselle remembered she had another agenda; if they were to win, the life lost could not be his. She returned to her prince, dropped both their swords into the dense undergrowth, carefully hoisted Geoff on her shoulders and started running. She would have to leave the rest of the arrow in him to make certain he didn’t bleed to death on the trip back.



Once A Wolf Ch. 07



The Fourth Afternoon

 On the way back to the cave, her mind was ablaze. The first, best choice was surgery. Of course, that wasn’t an option. Even if the Arcturans would allow her a field-hospital-quality surgical set-up, she had never done anything this extensive. This would require a full-fledged trauma team. She wasn’t about to let him die, whatever the Arcturans might find ‘entertaining’. That left one other option.

 She lay him face-down on the ledge next to the waterfall and pulled the rest of the arrow out of his torso. The bleeding was steady, not arterial. They were lucky in that respect. There was an ample supply of the latest liquid bandage material in the medical kit. It was waterproof, which was exactly what she would need now. She applied it liberally to both wounds. While she was waiting for it to set, she withdrew the hypodermic, rubber tube, bandage strip and sterile swipes from the med kit. She looked down at her forearm, still not believing she was going to go through with this. 

 Giselle tied off her bicep with the tube, swabbed the inside of her elbow, selected a good vein and inserted the needle. She drew off two CC’s, then applied the bandage strip over the puncture. She upended the syringe, tapped it a couple of times to dislodge any air bubbles, then slowly eased the plunger up until the blood beaded at the tip. Capping it, she repeated the procedure of finding a vein on Geoff’s arm. 

 Giselle picked up the hypodermic once more and uncapped it. She stared at the syringe of what could only be described as pure poison, then at Geoff’s unconscious form. His life was on the line; it was this or certain death. She sighed deeply, realizing there might not be a difference. “God forgive me,” she muttered. Then, she injected him. After applying liquid bandage to the tiny puncture wound. She eased his body into the frigid waters of the pool under the waterfall. Making certain his face would not slip beneath the surface, she sat down on the ledge next to him – and waited for the ordeal to begin.

 His forehead was warm to the touch within ten minutes. So quickly! That couldn’t be a good sign. She would have no idea how high the fever would run, but…. The digital thermometer materialized on the ledge next to her right hand. The Arcturans! Bless their black little hearts. They couldn’t have any idea what she was doing to him, but they had seen her repeatedly feeling his forehead and were playing the perfect little Yuppie facilitators. They must be loving this; the helpless female’s last, desperate, feeble attempt to save her mate. Laugh it up, Furballs. You will be choking on it soon enough. The thermometer already read one-oh-one-point-two. Oh, if only it would stop there! She knew better than that. This was only the beginning.

 After one hour, the thermometer read one-oh-three-point-three. Geoff was going up like a five-alarm-fire. She hoped the chilled pool would be enough to hold him together. Giselle herself had topped off at one-oh-six-point-five, but she had been packed in ice. Ice? Well, why not? She dragged him out of the pool and onto the ledge.

“Hydrogen Oxide, zero degrees Celsius, two hundred kilograms in one-point-two-five centimeter cubes.”

Never let it be said the Arcturans didn’t appreciate a good joke. The mountain of ice appeared on the ledge next to Geoff’s inert form. She started shoving the cubes over him

 Eight hours in. He was at one-oh-six-point-six. Stay calm, Giselle. Brain damage doesn’t begin until one-oh-seven-point-six. She had already replenished the ice once and would continue doing so as long as the Arcturans would give it to her. She sang to him. She recited poetry: Keats, Dickenson, Shelley, Elizabeth and Robert Browning, and her personal favorite, Robert Frost.

Two roads diverged in the yellow wood, 
And sorry I could not travel both 
And be one traveler, long I stood 
And looked down one as long as I could 
To where it bent in the undergrowth….

 Fourteen hours. One-oh-seven-point-two. She remembered the reports. Swifty Pike had tried so hard to keep the wording clinical, unemotional. Thirty-six attempts. Thirty-six catastrophic failures. Thirty-six brave volunteers. Soldiers. Marines. A couple of SEALs. All gone. The process had required anywhere from forty-eight to seventy-two hours to run its course. Each had spiked between one-oh-nine and one-thirteen. Thirty-two had died outright. Crispy Critters. They had been the lucky ones. The other four had survived the transition – at least, their bodies had. Swifty Pike was one of the most decent human beings it had ever been her privilege to meet. He had ordered the four euthanized. All thirty-six had been autopsied, of course, then buried with full military honors.

She knew how to make it work. Despite her credentials, the others were disinclined to follow her recommendations. So, she had worked alone – and became Number Thirty-Seven. General Pike told her later he had almost stroked out when he found her on the lab floor with the syringe still in her hand. But she had been different; way different. She was way outside the testing parameters. Her numbers had been way different too; nowhere near the other thirty-six. In the end, she had been different in the only respect that really mattered; eighteen hours in, she woke up intact.

 Eighteen hours. One-oh-seven-point-four. The spike was slowing! That had to be hopeful, wasn’t it? Geoff’s case was different, too. He had been spared the full wrath of the serum itself, having received her antibodies instead. That had to make a difference! She talked to him. She told him of her childhood, the glories of her misspent, misbegotten, over-the-top youth. She told him of the Proms she had never attended, the romances she had never had, the relationships that never were, all because she had wanted to be somebody – who, in the end, she wasn’t. 

 She begged him, pleaded with him, promised she would be his “Queen, consort, or concubine, however he would have her”, fuck his brains out every day of her life and count herself blessed for the opportunity, just please, please, don’t give up on her! She had a gnawing pain in the pit of her stomach she was going to lose him. Without him there to hold her, she already felt so alone.

 Twenty-two hours. She had been awake the past thirty-four. Fatigue, anxiety, and stress had taken their toll. Her vision was swimming. She had long since run out of intelligent things to say. Now she was reduced to nursery rhymes and limericks.

There once was a man from Nantucket….

She glanced again at the thermometer for the… thousandth?… ten-thousandth time? She couldn’t even focus on the digital readout anymore. She blinked several times, trying to force her eyes to tear. Finally, her vision settled down enough to make out the numbers: one-oh-seven-point… four? She shook her head. She must be delirious. She looked again. One-oh-seven-point-four. Don’t get cocky, Giselle! It could be a plateau. The others went three times as long. For the second time that day – twice more than in the past four decades - Giselle René Du Mont prayed.

 Twenty-three hours. She was on auto-pilot now. She was sitting cross-legged on the ledge, his head in her lap. She was stroking his fevered forehead with one hand, just looking, hoping for the best, fearing the worst. She looked again at the thermometer, her best friend and worst enemy in this or any other lifetime.

One-oh-seven-point-two!

 She started rocking back and forth, big, fat, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Thank you, God! Thank you! She hoped God really would forgive her for pretending to be Him. She looked down at Geoffrey’s comatose form. 

“Welcome to Project Lorelei, My Love. The Few. The Proud. The Damned.”

 She hoped, one day, he would find it in his heart to forgive her, too. That would have to wait. They weren’t out of the woods, yet. He still had to wake up. She gently lay his head down on the ledge, then stretched out next to him. She was asleep in moments, holding his hand.

 Geoffrey opened his eyes in the late evening of the fifth day. Though sound asleep, Giselle felt his hand flick and awoke with a start. She sat up, lifted his head into her lap, and began stroking his forehead. His fever had gone down dramatically. She had to find out if the fever had caused any impairment.

“Hi, Tiger. How are you feeling?”

“Better than you look. Giselle, you are a mess!”

“I love you, too. Geoffrey, be a dear and tell me the square root of eighty-one.”

“Excuse me?”

“The square root of eighty-one, Geoffrey. Surely you know it.”

“Of course I do. It’s… nine. So what?”

“So what, indeed. What is the capital of Zaire?”

“Uh, Kinshasa, and haven’t they gone back to calling it the Republic of Congo?”

 “They have, indeed. Now, listen carefully: 
At the hole where he went in 
Red-eye called to Wrinkle-skin.
 Hear what little Red-eye saith: 
Finish it, Geoffrey.”

“Huh?”

“Finish the quote, Geoffrey.”

“I can’t.”

Giselle slipped her hands through the remains of the ice and gripped his shoulders tightly.

“This is important, Geoffrey. Kipling. Rikki Tikki Tavi. Finish the quote.”

“I just told you, I can’t.”

Her heart sank. They had been so close. He sounded normal enough. How extensive was the damage?

“Please try, just for me.”

“Giselle, I really don’t know what this is all about and I really hate to disappoint you, but I never memorized Rikki Tikki Tavi. I thought I was doing well with Robert Frost. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both….”

He couldn’t fathom how reciting poetry – American poetry at that – would make her laugh and cry at the same time. He really didn’t think he would ever understand her.

“Erm, Giselle? Why am I lying in a puddle of ice water? It’s… a little cold.”

She cleared away the remaining ice and helped him slowly to his feet. He would be disoriented and weak as a kitten; she knew that. She looked… up into his eyes. As nearly as she could estimate, Geoff was about three inches taller and a lot broader. He wasn’t bulky; he was really toned, well-defined, like a decathlete. Back in California, they would call him ripped. There wasn’t a hint of what had previously been the near-mortal wound; not even a scar. That was Lorelei for you; better things for better living through biochemistry.

“Wow,” she gasped.

He followed the direction of her eyes to his physique – and couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“Wow,” he choked. “Giselle, what happened to me? We were in the forest, escaping the Golganthans. I felt this incredibly sharp, burning pain right here, then I blacked out. I don’t even remember returning to the cave, much less the Grotto. Now this. And I still have so many questions about you, too. I don’t wish to sound paranoid, but….”

Giselle pressed one hand softly to his lips.

“My Love, I owe you so much more than answers, but not here, not now. I’m famished and I’m fairly certain you could eat a horse about now.”

“Well, since you mention it… yes,” he admitted.

 Giselle helped him with his shower, taking it slowly. He rinsed off, then swam a bit to stretch his muscles at her direction. After toweling him off, she helped him up the stairs. A just-requisitioned set of fatigues awaited him, sized for his changed dimensions.

“The Praetor has been generous in our clothing allowance,” Giselle cooed. “I thought it might be nice to ‘dress’ for dinner; something clean, at least. Now, if I could impose upon you, I will ask you to get started on dinner while I shower. Prepare more than one for yourself. Your body needs the nourishment right now. I know, it’s the same old ‘TV dinners’, but I’ll see if I can add a little pizzazz to it. Will that be satisfactory?”

“Why couldn’t you have just showered and dressed with me?” he inquired.

She pursed her lips and smiled coquettishly.

“Indulge me.”

*****

 He smelled her essence before she appeared. He hadn’t really been aware that he knew the scent of her so well. Something new had been added to the mix. Perfume? 

“Geoffrey?”

He turned – and gasped at the sight of her. The deep-blue gown fit her like a second skin. It had a halter neck, deeply plunging front, and no back above her lower ribs. The gown accentuated the tuck of her tiny waist and sweep of her full, flaring hips and bum. The skirt then swept straight to the floor. The long front slit showed glimpses of her stockinged legs and high-heel-sandal-shod feet. A multi-tiered diamond-and-sapphire necklace encircled her throat. It was accentuated by matching pendant earrings and a multi-stranded bracelet on her left wrist. Her upswept hair and makeup could have come from the cover of Vogue.

 She came to him and rested her right hand lightly on his shoulder. She gently cupped his slack jaw in her left hand and closed it. Then, the vision stepped back and twirled around for his inspection.

“Will I do?” she asked demurely. 

“You didn’t tell me this would be a black tie affair,” Geoff chided. “I feel underdressed.”

“Not yet,” Giselle cooed. “That comes later.”

It took Geoff a minute to collect his senses. He was able to form a one-word question.

“How?”

Giselle’s smile widened a notch.

“When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping – with a little help from our Arcturan hosts. The Praetor confirmed my initial assessment of this tournament was correct. At this moment, the Arcturans are getting into this as much as you.”

“What about…?”, Geoff began, pointing at the brilliant gems at her ears and throat. Giselle smiled coquettishly.

“Oh, Honey, it don’t mean a thing if you ain’t got that bling. Doo-wop-doo-wop-doo-wop.”

“Excuse me?”

Giselle giggled.

“Nothing. Just another of my archaic references. Judging from the boxes, I would say Harry Winston is going to be screaming Bloody Murder any time now. I haven’t done the ‘star turn’ in a while and I couldn’t think of anyone I would rather do it for. It’s not… too much, is it? I could always change back into my fatigues.”

“DON’T YOU DARE, GISELLE DU MONT!”

The eight-hundred-pound gorilla found his voice and manners at last. He stepped next to her and offered his arm.

“I decided earlier we shall dine al fresco this evening. Our table awaits.”

Giselle slipped her arm through his.

“Yes, Milord. As you command.”

 Their ‘table’ was a large flat-topped rock outside the cave entrance. Two smaller flanking rocks served as ‘chairs’. The cuisine was Spartan at best, but the company never noticed. A few minutes into the meal, Giselle excused herself from her host, begging that she had forgotten the ‘pizzazz’ she had promised earlier. Geoffrey stared at her incredulously.

“There is more?”

She smiled, winked, then disappeared into the cave. The platinum-tressed heartthrob returning ten minutes later, a wide smile on her lips.

“Time to drop the Big One,” she murmured.

She delicately laid the aluminum cylinder on the table between their place settings. Geoff was in complete shock.

“Here? NOW? How do we….”

The fabulous blonde shushed him, held the cylinder’s middle with one hand and unscrewed an end with the other. After removing the cap, she tilted the cylinder, removed its contents, and handed it to her host.

“Would Milord do the honors?” she inquired.

At that point, Geoffrey would not at all have been shocked if the bottle had been labeled : Plutonium – Handle With Extreme Care. Instead, it read: 

Comtes de Champagne Taittinger 1992                          
 Brut ChampagneBlanc de Blancs

He stared at Giselle, a smirk on his face.

“The most destructive force known to Humankind?”

She shrugged her shoulders a little bit and smiled demurely.

“Self-indulgence. Not exactly what the doctor would order right now, but he doesn’t make cave calls.”

She unscrewed the cylinder’s other end and extracted two cut crystal flutes.

“Araglin by Waterford,” she observed. I don’t have many nice things, but this seemed to be the right occasion for these. I try to plan for any contingency.”

Geoffrey simply shook his head in disbelief and uncorked the champagne.

 They dined under the stars in the middle of a war zone and cared for nothing but each other and the moment. There were many questions to ask and be answered, but neither was willing to shatter the mood by bringing them up. When they had eaten their fill, they simply held hands, sipped champagne, stared into each other’s eyes and made small talk, as lovers and those soon to be have always done. At last, Geoff had to express what was on his mind.

“Giselle, this has been the most amazing evening of the most amazing five days of my life. There are so many questions I would like to ask….”

She steeled herself for what would come next.

“… but won’t, owing to certain exigencies we have already discussed.”

He cast his eyes upwards. She silently mouthed the words “Thank you.”

“I know something happened to me yesterday, and I believe it was something bad. But I am here, alive, and healthier than I have ever been before….”

“Here, here,” Giselle cooed, and clinked her flute against his.

“… and I know I have you to thank once again,” he continued. “There is something I need to know. This tournament will not last forever – and we will win it. What will become of us?”

“Us?” she inquired.

“Yes, as in ‘you and me’,” he confirmed. “I want very much for there to be an ‘us’. I can’t bear the thought of you walking out of my life and disappearing forever.”

She swallowed hard.

“I want that more than words can express,” she admitted. “Having said that, I don’t think it can ever happen.”

“Why not?” he inquired, astonished.

Geoffrey, if your name was Joe Grabowski and you were a plumber from the northwest side of Chicago, no one would care whom you took up with – except perhaps Mother Grabowski. No girl would be good enough for her little boy.

“The point is, you are not Joe Grabowski, and there are people who care very much whom you bring home to ‘meet the folks’. They believe it is their God-given duty to ‘assist’ you in choosing the right girl. She will be investigated, analyzed, scrutinized, sanitized, and vetted at sixteen different levels. Once married, she will be expected to bear you an heir and a spare, then fade back into the woodwork, to be trotted out on all the appropriate state occasions and photo ops.

“Can you see me passing any of those tests? Can you honestly see them accepting me? I am an American, commoner, soldier and spy – and that is just the tip of the iceberg. Yes, I am housebroken, can carry an intelligent conversation and know which fork to use, but as to the rest…. We have been together five days. You still really don’t know anything about me. By the time we get home, you may not want to.”

“Just tell me you don’t want me and I will leave it alone, “ Geoff replied softly. Giselle’s eyes teared anew.

“I can’t do that, either. I have already told you I want you very much – more than I have wanted anything in this life or any other.”

“Then we shall find a way to make this work,” he avowed. “As for the Palace, we will just have to work on them. After all, I am the ‘eight-hundred-pound gorilla’.” 

“This would take a thousand-pound gorilla.”

“I will make this work if I have to go directly my grandparents and plead your case.”




Once A Wolf Ch. 07



“Now you are talking King Kong,” she observed bemusedly. “I know you will try on my behalf and I love you for it. I just don’t honestly believe they will allow us to remain together once we are Back In The World. We may need to give them time to adjust to the idea.”

“Back In The World?”

She sighed.

“An expression our troops used in Viet Nam to denote ‘back inour world; home. I guess it has a whole new meaning here, doesn’t it? Geoffrey, may I ask a very big favor, please?”

“Name it,” he stated.

“I know this sounds a bit forward,” she began, “but is there someplace I can… reach you when we get home? I mean, in case we have to spend time apart.”

Geoff stifled a laugh.

“You mean, you want my telephone number?”

“It doesn’t even have to be that,” she countered. “An e-mail address will do. Something private, where I can reach you, not one of your flunk… um, staff.”

In the manner lovers now did, they whispered their private e-mail addresses to one another.

“Giselle?”

“Yes?”

“If I have ‘done the Math’ correctly, this is our third date.”

Giselle set her flute down, walked around the ‘table’, parted the halves of her skirt and straddled his lap, facing him. The skirt draped around his lower legs as she draped her arms around his neck. The smell of her perfume was as intoxicating as the champagne.

“And here I’ve been sitting across from you all this time, thinking you didn’t remember how to count.” 

She felt a stirring beneath her. Something was alive down there. It was big – really, really big!

Reaching down, Giselle unzipped his pants and, with difficulty, extracted her prize. What she found took her breath away.

“Oh… my… GOD!”

She gulped hard, then looked him in the eye and frowned.

“I have been mistaken about you all along,” she intoned. “You will not be a good King.”

He raised one eyebrow quizzically.

“No?”

She pulled his lips close to hers.

“No. You will be a magnificent King – and I’m likin’ it!”

“You know, the Arcturans are watching,” he murmured.

Giselle shrugged her shoulders and smiled coyly.

“Enjoy the show,” she cooed, mounting her new ‘throne’.

She broke their impassioned kiss only long enough to gush six more words.

“Eat your heart out, Jenna Jameson.”



Once A Wolf Ch. 08



The Sixth Day

Sensing the presence, both awoke with a start. They were on their feet, swords in hand, in one fluid motion of naked bodies. When they observed it was only the Praetor, they dropped their guards. Giselle thought the look on his face was one of amusement.

“Well?” Giselle challenged, a note of irritation in her voice. “Did you get a good look?”

“Oh my, yes,” the Praetor replied. “The ratings went… how do you say it? ‘Through the roof’.”

“Well then,” Geoffrey added with undisguised irritation, “since you obviously didn’t get enough, perhaps we can offer you an encore. What do you say? Shall I just throw her up against the wall right here and have at it? Perhaps bent over the table outside? How about it – a little bumfuck al fresco?”

“Geoffrey!”

“Wait a minute, Buster! If anybody gets to look at the goods, it’s gonna be me, not that sick fuck, Praetor. I swear to God, if he lays a hand on me again, I’m gonna rip him a new one!”

“SADIE!”

“Just a moment,” Geoffrey said directly to the Praetor’s image, his irritation rising. “Do you mean we put on a show that had your entire planet wanking like addled schoolboys, and you repay us by molesting a poor, defenseless laptop computer? What kind of perverts are you?”

“He’s the kind that wants to stick his hard drive in my floppy slot. Was it good for you, Sweetums? I wasn’t too loose for you, was I? I mean, I know how easy it is for those tiny ones to get lost inside a real slot.”

“Have you no shame, sir?” Geoff retorted angrily. Both his swords were at the ready then. You had your way with a member of my family while my wife and I were asleep in the same room? I’ll have you know these are my slots! Come down here and fight like a man!”

The Praetor’s image dissipated.

One could only wonder what the Arcturans made of two humans and an artificially-intelligent computer locked in the throes of a five-minute laughing jag. Sadie’s laughter had a rather harsh, tinny, raucous tone to it, by virtue of her small stereo speakers. Geoff clutched his sides tightly, forlornly attempting to squelch the pain. Giselle had big, fat tears rolling down both cheeks. Her whole body shuddered in mirth, causing her bustline to jiggle enticingly. It was inevitable Geoff and Giselle would clutch each other for support. And kiss. Passionately.

“All right you two. Either break it up or get a cave.”

“Got one,” Giselle cooed.

“Then get a different one! All this mush is upsetting to my innocent young eye.”

“You’re just jealous,” teased Geoff.

“Damn straight, Skippy! You would be, too.”

“Yes, I expect you are right about that,” mused Geoff. “Incidentally, that was a nice bit of work taking the Praetor down a notch. For what it is worth, I believe your ‘slot’ deserves far better.”

“You too, Joy Boy. That ‘old boy righteous indignation’ shtick had me in stitches. This is the first time I don’t mind a man calling me his ‘slot’. You’ve got big brass ones!”

“You don’t know how much it means to me,” Giselle interjected, wiping the tears from her eyes, “that you two are getting on so well. That was the best laugh I have had in… well, I really can’t remember when. Sadie, why are you up? I know I didn’t leave you on last night.”

“Wake On LAN, G. Praetor goosed me for real. G., he went after your diary files again.”

“Did he get any of it?” Giselle inquired pensively.

"Yeah, Boss; All of it. I feel so… violated.”

Geoff thought he noted a touch of sarcasm in Sadie’s lament.

“I’m sorry, Sadie,” Giselle replied. “You done good, anyway.”

“Thanks, Boss. I think I’m gonna do a defrag. That’ll make me feel cleaner.”

“Go ahead, Sweetie,” the Blonde responded, “and thanks again.”

Geoff held her tightly. Giselle looked up into his eyes, smiling teasingly.

“Your wife?” she taunted softly. “Did I miss the memo?”

“The Arcturans seem to think you are,” Geoff responded. “At any rate, it sounded good at the time.” 

Giselle nodded vigorously.

“Uh-huh!”

“I’m so sorry the Arcturans violated your privacy like that,” he intoned.

She gently pressed her fingertips to his lips.

“Don’t be,” she admonished. “Actually, this is the second best moment of my life.”

“Second best?” Geoff inquired. “What was the best?”

She gazed at his lips, mere inches from her own.

“Dumb question,” she replied, as she brought her lips to his.

*****

They returned to the site of the near-fatal ambush from two days before. A more cautious reconnaissance revealed no immediate Golganthan presence. It didn’t take long to recover both swords, concealed beneath some ground-hugging ferns. Apparently, the Golganthans had either no interest in returning to the spot where Geoff had fallen, or had no idea the humans’ ‘arsenal’ lay literally at their feet.

Although no guarantee of ‘parity’ had ever been extended by the Arcturans, Geoff felt it was intrinsically unfair the Golganthans now had projectile weapons while he and Giselle had none. Giselle pointed out it was just as likely the Golganthans had fashioned their bows and arrows from materials found within these very woods – and the Arcturans would have likely rewarded them for their ingenuity.

“Shouldn’t we make our own then?”, Geoff inquired.

“We could, and they would certainly be useful,” Giselle replied, “but I intend to finish this today, now that I know we can.”

Geoff slung his sword across his back, then took her hands in his.

“You could have finished it two days ago,” he softly intoned. “I remember more of it, now that I am here. We… you had them beaten and on the run. You could have finished it right then. Earth would be safe now.”

“I wasn’t willing to pay the price,” she replied softly.

“You were the one who told me,” Geoff countered, “the mission comes first. One life is unimportant. It would have been a fair exchange for six billion lives back home.”

“No, it would not,” Giselle stormed. “Your life has become important to me. Particularly since I got you into this mess in the first place.”

“That is nonsense,” Geoff countered. “How could you? The Arcturans….”

“Read my diary,” interjected Giselle. “We already know what voyeurs they are. When they first snatched me, I was seated at my desk in my apartment, typing entries into it. I had two files open. In one, I was beginning to list my silly childhood terrors. I had already entered the giant ants, Leatherface, and the Velociraptors….”

“Velociraptors,” Geoff exclaimed. “Outside the cave entrance, three nights ago?”

Giselle nodded.

“The Arcturans may, indeed, have seen the movies – and probably did, to flesh out the monsters. All of that was secondary. We faced those terrors because the Arcturans knew they were my terrors. Remember what Sadie said this morning? The Praetor accessed my files again. Anyway I called that file…”

“Things That Go Bump In The Night,” Geoff finished.

Giselle gazed at him, chagrined.

“You are scaring me,” she replied sheepishly. “You know me too well.”

“I am beginning to,” he replied. “Your terrors didn’t seem to terrorize you when we faced them,” Geoff pointed out.

“I don’t allow anything to terrorize me while I am working,” Giselle rebutted. “That comes later.”

“Yes, I know,” Geoff replied quietly. “I have been around for ‘later’ these last few days.

What about me? Am I one of your terrors as well?”

She gazed intently into his eyes.

“Just the opposite,” she avowed. “You were the other file: “Prince Charming”, the object of a silly schoolgirl crush. That is why you are here. Random chance was never a factor. I… I targeted you for them. The Arcturans merely connected the dots. I am so sorry.”

Geoff thought about that for a moment.

“I’m not,” he responded. Despite the circumstances, I have felt more alive in the last six days than at any time before in my life. I have had the opportunity to serve my people and planet in a way few people ever realize. And I have shared the company of the most amazing and marvelous woman I have ever met. What could I possibly have to be sorry about?”

“You have no idea,” Giselle replied.

Both came instantly alert to the sound of movement in the dense undergrowth. Without a word, they stood back-to-back, eyes and ears alert, swords at the ready.

“The Golganthans again?” Geoff queried.

“Not this time,” Giselle responded. “This is something else.”

‘Something else’, some three dozen of them, emerged from the woods, completely encircling them. Their overall resemblance to the Praetor identified them as Arcturans. Their dimensions and armament identified them as warriors. Every one of them brandished a very ugly looking sword.

“I must have missed this in the rulebook,” Geoff observed testily.

“I think we have just made it to the Bonus Round,” Giselle replied. “They are through with wimpy challenges. Now we have to face the best. Remember your training. Breathe normally. Don’t get mad. Trust your instincts. Become your sword.”

The next few minutes – and it was very few – were a blur. Geoff did not see threats so much as target areas. Whatever part of the anatomy before him was unguarded was the part he struck. Strike, turn, strike, turn, stay in motion – do not present a still target to your opponent’s blade. Strange; it was almost as if they were moving in slow motion. It was either that, or he was moving incredibly fast…. And then there were no more targets.

He turned in time to witness Giselle dispatch the last three Arcturan warriors. The first was bisected diagonally, right shoulder to left hip. She spun clockwise, slicing off the legs of the second with a single sweep or her sword. She buried its point in his face, turned to block the sword-bearing arm of the third, then ripped that arm out of its socket. Lifting the wounded warrior into the air, she bent him backwards, snapping his spine like a pretzel. Then, she casually dropped the remains to the ground. Bodies – body parts – were strewn in a heap around her. The foliage and ground itself was soaked with green blood. Geoff took in this scene of… mass destruction – and all of his questions were answered.

Giselle did not meet his gaze at first. Instead, she stood mutely, surveying the carnage around them, particularly at his feet. He followed her gaze. Now that the battle was over, he could not believe his own tally of enemy dead nearly equaled hers.

“How was I able to do that?” he gasped.

His companion took several moments to formulate her response before she voiced it.

“Race memory,” she murmured. “Genetically coded physiological response. Instant training. We never dreamed it would be capable of that.”

She looked up, into his eyes. The expression on her face was wistful, perhaps with a touch of sorrow. She made to say something, then glanced past his arm. The expression of horror on her face was palpable. In one smooth motion, she swept him aside, hurling his body into the brush. By the time he sat up, she was kneeling at his feet. The Golganthan arrow had run her through. Her valiant heart was pumping wildly, attempting to supply blood to her body, even as it was hemorrhaging badly itself.

“Oh, God, no,” he cried in dismay. “Giselle!”

“Break off the point, Geoffrey,” she coughed. “Then pull the rest out.”

He did as instructed, then lay her down on her back, her head in his lap.

“Giselle, I am so sorry….”

“Don’t,” she gasped. This is what war is all about. People die for really stupid, tragic, yet unavoidable reasons, remember?”

“Good people,” he corrected her, “and you are the best.”

She smiled bravely at him.

“You have to leave me now. There is still a battle to be won. We will still win, because you are here with me. You know the job. Now, you have the skills as well. Finish it. This is the way it has to be. Whatever happens, know that I love you and always will….”

Giselle René Du Mont emitted a little sigh and closed her eyes. She looked so angelic, lying there. With the bleeding stopped, it almost appeared as if she were asleep.

Geoffrey had not known such rage in his heart since the death of his mother. Once again, the most important woman in his life had been taken from him and he had been powerless to stop it. This time was different. His rage had a focus – and he, a purpose. He snatched up his sword and hers, then identified the direction in which the Golganthans were making their retreat. He turned to gaze one more time upon the woman who would have been his Queen….

Her body was gone.

He closed upon his quarry with such blinding speed, they might as well have been running backwards. The male let fly a desperate snap shot as he ran, which Geoff cast aside with one disdainful flick of his sword. He was on them in six more steps. They turned, drew their swords and faced him because they had no choice. He engaged both at once. The staccato clang of metal on metal reverberated through the clearing. He caught the female’s sword with the shinobikatana, handguard to handguard, and heaved outward with his arm. The female flew through the air and collided with a tree trunk with a resounding crash.

Geoff unleashed his cold fury on the male alone. All things being equal, the Golganthan’s strength would be more than a match for the human’s. All things were not equal, and never would be again. The pig was no match for what the prince had become.

Geoffrey hammered relentlessly, ferociously, blade to blade, using both swords with such dizzying speed, his opponent could only hold his blade up defensively as the blows rained down upon him. With one mighty swing of Excalibur, two-thirds of the Golganthan blade was sheered away.

The male was on one knee before him now. For the first time in his life, Geoffrey saw raw terror in the eyes of another sentient being. A small part of his brain beheld the sight in wonder, knowing as he did the Golganthan was terrified of him. The rest of him wanted only to exact the most painful, bloody vengeance he could manage. His heart pounded in his chest. There was a roaring in his ears – so much so, he never heard the whoosh of the broken tree limb as the desperate female swung it into the side of his head. Once again, he sank to his knees, then pitched forward – onto the remains of the broken sword the stunned Golganthan male still held in his hand. Then, all three disappeared.



Once A Wolf Ch. 09



The Human female had died valiantly, sacrificing herself for her mate. Her body lay in state on the ceremonial altar behind the Praetor's master console in the Control Chamber on Arcturus Prime, as was the tradition. Now her mate, too, lay mortally wounded. In this stunning, completely unexpected, and thoroughly enjoyable reversal, the heretofore-dominant Human team appeared poised to snatch Defeat from the jaws of Victory. These were the little unexpected thrills that made The Tournament such a delightful experience. This one would be talked about for centuries to come.

In moments it would be over. The three remaining combatants had also been brought to the Control Chamber. Its superior lighting and imaging capability were designed to offer maximum visual impact for the deliverance of the final blow, marking the end of another successful Tournament. It would be a bit of a letdown for the audience. This one had lasted a mere six days. Still, they had been an exciting six days. How did the Humans express it? Short and sweet. 

Although they had lost, the Humans had fought ferociously, worthy of Arcturan warriors. In fact, they had faced, and successfully defeated The Phalanx itself – the pride of the Arcturan Legions. That feat had not been equaled in the past five thousand years. Few teams even reached that level. The pair would take their place among the Honored Dead of The Tournament. In the entire history of the event, less than a hundred had been so enshrined.

In death, the Human male would lie in state next to his mate for the official period of mourning. The entire population of Arcturus Prime would honor them – via telecast, of course. All waited now on the Golganthans to deliver the Death Blow. Understandably, the porcine competitors were as taken aback by the sudden turn of events as the Arcturans had been. The Human male lay bleeding before the Golganthan pair. The Golganthan male was poised to strike with his mate's sword. He was hesitating. Oh, this was priceless. It was all there in his eyes. He was torn between duty to his race and... remorse for taking the lives of those who had shown compassion for them. Strike, little piggy, strike! If you don't, we will destroy their planet and yours, too! 

The Praetor, focused on the action in front of him, had forgotten the lifeless form behind him. She was not so lifeless; nor had she forgotten him. As she rose from the slab like some latter-day Lazarus, Giselle once again called upon her spirit guide. As she had before, in times of danger, distress or rage, she surrendered herself to it, allowing it to take physical form.

The air itself seemed to vibrate around the Arcturan from the raw, physical power of the deep, menacing growl. His sense of dread was immediate; his reaction only a hair slower. He whirled to view its source, a disrupter filling his hand. A hair slower made all the difference. The Praetor saw only a flash of white and a mouth full of fangs. His disrupter flew away, along with the hand holding it. An instant later, a gout of blackish-green blood erupted from what had been his throat. The rest of him sailed through the air and bounced off the wall, eyes wide in utter incomprehension.

Geoff's body was fighting valiantly, but was unable to sustain consciousness. He expected the Golganthans to finish it any second, to cap his spectacular failure with the deathblow that might just as well be struck directly to Earth's heart as his own. Instead, they now shrank to one corner, paralyzed with fear. The whole chamber trembled and shook with the force of the rumbling terror. 

As he slipped away, he sensed her, could feel her essence. His angel had returned for him. He had failed her in life, failed his people and planet, yet she had come to watch over him and take him home. He had not known such total, unconditional love since his mother's passing. That thought comforted him. 

Even now, his anguished, confused mind was playing one final, cruel trick on him. It was not Giselle's beautiful face his eyes saw, nor the lush, magnificent body that had caused him so much exquisite torment, then ecstasy. Instead, his nightmare had returned to haunt him. Standing watch over his battered body, bloody fangs bared to all comers, stood a great white wolf with glittering sapphire eyes. Then, the vision faded to blackness.

*****

The eyes were still there when his re-opened. They were softer, human once more. The smile had returned, too. He cursed his own brain for having deluded him yet again, but he knew what he was seeing now. That was all that mattered. She spoke her agreement.

"Hello, My Love. It's good to have you back."

He remembered her dying in his arms, the battle with the Golganthans, and watching the sword pierce him.

"We're dead, aren't we? This is Heaven?"

"Sorry. We don't get off that easily. We still have work to do."

"But, my wound...."

His tunic was open. He looked down at his abdomen and saw... taut, unblemished flesh and firmly-toned, six-pack abs. Given the choice between maintaining his consciousness and repairing itself, his body had wisely chosen the latter. Now, that body was back – and so was he. Her tunic was just as bloody as his. The hole from the arrow was there, but the corresponding wound in her chest was not. Giselle smiled at him, reading his thoughts.

"That is Lorelei's blessing...."

She sighed deeply.

"... and curse."

"Lorelei," he repeated. "Then you... me... both of us?"

Giselle nodded, smiling a bit more wistfully now.

"The first of our kind. Adam and Eve, redux. Thank you for retrieving my sword."

She helped him to his feet. They stood so close. Each could feel the other's heat – and desire. He kissed her then; hungrily, passionately. She melted into his embrace, her sword and his still clasped firmly into their respective hands. She poured all her heart and soul into that kiss, a lifetime of longing to belong to something, someone beyond her self-imposed exile. He accepted her gift and responded with all that was his to give.

When at last they broke their kiss, starved for air, an absurd notion came to his mind, something she had told him only a few days before. Project Lorelei had been cancelled because.... He voiced the notion in utter incredulity.

"Not sexy enough?"

She shrugged her shoulders a little and smiled impishly.

"To each, his own."

A noise drew their attention. The Golganthans were no longer cowering in terror, but were clearly confused, unsure of what to do next. Geoff gazed at the beings whom, such a short time before, he had wanted to cut to pieces. With his love safe and in his arms once again, he felt all the rage drain from him.

"What do we do with them?", he inquired. "For that matter, what do we do with ourselves?"

"First things first," she replied. "I finish the job I came here to do."

Geoff looked perplexed. He peered towards their former nemeses guardedly.

"Must we still go through with this?"

Giselle glanced at him, then at the Golganthans.

"They were never part of the job."

She stared grimly at the apparatus around them, the machinery of the Arcturans' sick perversion.

"This is. Are you with me, Sadie?"

"Saddled up and ready to ride, Boss. Just say the word."

"Is it all there?"

"Space and time displacement, just like you figured."

The Golganthans jumped at the human-sounding voice that came from everywhere – and nowhere. Geoff scanned the room as well, grinning. Finally, his eyes fell upon... the Praetor's master console.

"Finding any decent games in there, Sadie?", he asked. "Do they have Super Mario Brothers?"

"Don't crack wise with me, Joy Boy. You can fool all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you can't fool me none of the time!"

"In the name of those countless, untold souls the Arcturans ripped away in the name of 'entertainment'," Giselle intoned, "I declare these games OVER!"

Giselle explained it all. Her "Things That Go Bump In The Night" file had been bait to get the Arcturans interested in her diary. She had requested her laptop computer to 'set the hook', knowing the blatant voyeurs would not be able to resist easy access to her most personal, intimate musings - and had cooked up a rude little surprise for them. 

As the Praetor downloaded Giselle's diary via her Wi-Fi link, he also downloaded Sadie - an extremely sophisticated AI 'worm' Giselle had written for this mission and perfected through her various cybernetic espionage assignments. The plucky little program had gone immediately to work, adapting to the protocols and command syntax, punching through firewalls, cracking passwords, insinuating herself into the Arcturan operating system's executive layer. By the time Giselle called upon her, Sadie was the system. 

"But," Geoff began, "in order for you to call on her you would have to..."

"Be in the Control Chamber and in control of the master console," Giselle finished. "And for that to happen, I had to 'die' - and earn a quick trip to the slab over there. You, My Love, performed your part brilliantly – even if you hadn't a clue you were doing so. Your actions placed all four of us here – and here we make our stand."

"All of this would require detailed knowledge in advance," Geoff postulated. "How did you know?"

"My 'angel' told me," Giselle replied with a wink. "To be honest, I wasn't sure how the whole thing worked - until I had faced the Raptors. They bled red: hemoglobin, not cupraglobin. They were real. That meant the Praetor transported them from Earth, and in order to do so, the portal would have had to transcend space and time. As for the rest, this is one of those times I have to ask you to trust me. It will all come out later, but for now, just accept this: this mission has been planned for a very, very long time. It was never about defeating the Golganthans. It has always been about stopping the Arcturans and ending The Tournament forever."

"What about me," Geoff inquired. "Am I part of your carefully contrived scheme?"

The blonde Amazon placed her free hand on his chest and gazed at him with misty eyes.

"Geoffrey, you are the only part of this entire operation, other than my resolve, that has been genuine from Day One. My angel never told me you would be here. I believe she wanted our involvement to be as authentic as I do now. I regret involving you in all this. I deeply regret having to involve you with Lorelei. I will never regret loving you, nor receiving your love in return. Everything that has happened between us has been absolutely, positively real."

Sadie activated the portal to the proper coordinates. Timing would be of the essence.

Sensing his curiosity, Giselle preempted Geoff's question.

"I have a little 'thank you gift' for our hosts. I am going to give the Arcturans a taste of their own medicine."

Giselle outlined her plan for him. He turned white as a ghost.

"But what about the planetary shields? Has Sadie deduced how to lower them?"

"That wouldn't be enough to suit me. Lowered shields might be raised again. The shield controls are here in the Control Chamber, as well as everything else. If we take them out completely, that will do the job."

"How do we do that?"

"Funny you should ask...."

She stepped to the portal just as a large black ballistic nylon backpack appeared.

"Thank you, Sadie. I have it."

She unzipped the panels and went to work.

There was nothing inherently malevolent-looking about the Type Sixty-five Small Atomic Demolition Munition. In fact, a S.A.D.M. didn't look any more dangerous than a portable electrolysis machine. The reality was far different. This was a new and nasty microminiaturized design: one-point-three-five critical masses of Oak Ridge's supergrade plutonium in a beryllium reflective shell, with second-stage tritium injectors. The AX Division at Lawrence-Livermore had promised the design would yield in excess of twenty kilotons, eclipsing Hiroshima's "Little Boy". 

Giselle relished the word "excess" in dealing with the Arcturans. DIA had seen to it she was trained in the device's use. She had 'borrowed' this one, plus its separate detonator, from the Navy at Sea-Tac. Securing the twin "fail safe" codes had just been another routine piece of intelligence-gathering. Then, she had altered the inventory database to deflect attention caused by the 'shrinkage', signing the device out to SEAL headquarters in Coronado. She wondered idly how that investigation was progressing as she inserted, set, then activated the time-delay detonator. 

The portal began to ripple. Giselle quickly checked the control panel. It wasn't Sadie.

The Arcturans were reacting quickly. Her hand flew to her sword.

"That ain't us, Boys and Girls. Grab your bundt cakes and roll out the Welcome Wagon!"

Facing an Arcturan disrupter rifle while armed only with a sword can be a daunting task. Facing a platoon of angry Arcturan warriors, loaded for bear, is just plain scary. Then again, it was nothing new for Geoffrey and Giselle. The disparity ended as the first outstretched arm met cold, sharpened steel. 

Geoff already had sword in hand. Two blades swished through the air from opposite sides of the portal like twin scythes. The Golganthans were quick studies. The male snapped up the loose disrupter as it sailed through the air, quickly peeling off the arms still clutching it. He discovered the device was not much different in concept than any other assault weapon. It had a muzzle and trigger. Point and squeeze; let the weapon do the rest. The female had recovered the Praetor's hand weapon and removed his mangled hand. Mostly, the Arcturans died as they stepped through the portal. The rest wished they had.

Geoffrey swept Giselle up in his arms once more.

"We make quite a team," he pronounced.

"Yes. King Kong and Broadzilla," she smirked.

It was getting messy in the Control Chamber. They were stepping over and around body parts and splashing through puddles of blood. Giselle had Sadie dial up Golgantha from the portal's memory bank. When its image came up on the viewplate, the Golganthans understood. No words were needed. The male put his hand atop Giselle's shoulder. She clasped it with her own. The female and Geoff repeated the gesture. Then, the Golganthans stepped through.

"If that hussy had touched you anywhere else," Giselle murmured, "I would have scratched her eyes out."

Geoff smiled and kissed her.

"She would have been wasting her time. I am already spoken for."

"Hey, hey hey! I have some input in this cozy little canoodle, don't I?"

"Be nice, Sadie," Geoffrey promised, "and I will hook you up with a cute little Palm Pilot to interface with."

"You got a deal, Lover. G., enjoy!"

Earth came up on the portal's viewplate. Sadie was efficient as always. Giselle looked the love of her life in the eyes and spoke quietly.

"You have to go."

He stiffened.

"I have to go?"

"My Love, your first, best destiny is to be King. Nothing, and no one, must be allowed to interfere with that. You cannot stay here. In about two minutes, this place – this planet – will cease to exist. The Arcturans will try again. I have to stay to make certain they don't succeed. That is my job, not yours. I will return to you when I can. I am not willing to watch you die for me. I love you too much for that."

"So, instead, I must watch you die for me? Again? No...fucking...way! You don't get rid of me that easily, Giselle Du Mont. We live - or die – together. Where you go, I go; now and forever."

The blonde warrior sighed deeply.

"All right, My Love. You win. Where you go, I go, now and forever."

She lay her sword down atop the console, rested her hands lightly on his chest, and kissed him deeply.

"You first."

She thrust forward with both hands. Geoff flew backwards through the portal - and was gone. Giselle stared at the spot where he had disappeared.

"Live. Be the best King you can possibly be. If you won't do it for yourself or your people, do it for me. Sadie, lock out the portal controls."

"Already done, Boss. For what it's worth, he's a hottie – for a man, that is."

 

Giselle continued to stare at the spot where Geoff had disappeared.

"Yeah," she sighed, "he is."

Giselle glanced to her left. The Praetor's body lay slumped along the wall. He hadn't died immediately, which was just fine with the blonde warrior. That was the price he had paid for underestimating her. Wasn't that just like a man? In the end, with all the technology arrayed around him, he had had to scrawl his final incredulous query on the wall behind him in his own blood:

Who were you?

Giselle smiled at that. She had thought he would never get the tense right.

"Major Michael Andrew Jackson Blair, Second Battalion, Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment, United States Army – On Detached Duty."

The Amazon turned and walked away. She felt... liberated, just to utter the words aloud, even if there was no one left to hear them. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders at last. It had been so long, she had difficulty viewing her past life in any terms but 'she'. Giselle mused over the irony of her service status.

Detached Duty?

She glanced briefly at the junction where her thighs met.

Very!

The Arcturans had wanted a woman this time. They got one – up the ass!

In space, the graceful, fully-automated starship powered up its massive, planet-killing disrupter array. Sadie targeted the capital city as Ground Zero. All that remained was to bring down the planetary shields. As the S.A.D.M.'s display ticked down toward zero, Giselle René Du Mont thought back along the convoluted, five-decade path that had been her life. That life had led slowly, inexorably to this place, this moment in time. Of all she had done, seen, enjoyed, feared, or regretted, one thought stood out over all. It was a vow she had taken as a child, then reaffirmed throughout her life. At long last, that vow was to be fulfilled.

Never again!

*****

Geoff landed with a thud. He was up in a flash, the sword still in his hand. He was once again in the room from which he had begun his incredible journey six days before. He turned this way and that, searching for the portal entrance he had just come through, the portal his love would also use to make her escape. It was not to be found; nor was she. By now, the S.A.D.M. would have completed its murderous cadence. The shields would be down, destroyed. The city and planet had already opened wide to the starship's infernal embrace. Earth was safe, for now. Life, with all its infinite possibilities, would go on – for some. He dropped the sword with a clatter, sank to his knees, buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He could not begin to fathom what point that life would have now.

It was dark. He had no idea what time it was or how long he had knelt in that position. Nor did he care. At that moment, he wished he really could curl up and die. Perhaps his 'angel' would return for him then and they could be together again. But death had not been what she had wanted for him. How had she put it? Your first, best destiny is to be King. Nothing, and no one, can be permitted to interfere with that. She had risked her life, her mission, countless times to save his – in order to fulfill his destiny. Once again, he had been powerless to prevent hers from overtaking her. Once again, he was alone.




Once A Wolf Ch. 09



But he was alive, and home. He could now fulfill that destiny to which he had been born. She had wanted those things for him, more than her life. Her mission was done; his was just beginning. His heart wasn't in it; he had left it on Arcturus Prime with her. But he would do his duty, as she had done hers. In her memory, he could do no less.

He summoned the strength to regain his feet, open the door, and walk down the hallway. He made his way to the Common Room, simply because he could not think of anything else to do at the moment. Perhaps he would find someone there who could tell him what had been going on – how had she put it? "Back in The World" – in his absence.

He didn't find 'someone'. He found everyone, gathered around the television, watching intently. Life does go on, he mused sadly, and some things in it never change. But something in that life had.

"In the name of God. Geoff!"

They beheld him as one, in undisguised shock. This Titan, clad in desert camouflage, was not the same friend and classmate who had gone missing six days before – but then, they already knew that. His friends had so much to tell him about the interim. They looked at each other anxiously. No one wanted to be the one to break the news.



Once A Wolf Ch. 10



The nimble little RSX Type S pulled into the parking structure on Orange Grove Avenue. Typical for this time of evening, the place was jammed. Between Elephant Bar, Islands, and the AMC 16 Multiplex – not to mention all the businesses along adjacent San Fernando Road - you just couldn't get a space in here, or its companion garage across the street. Parking the newly-rechristened Aurora in geo-stationary orbit, cloaked, had been easier. The magnificent blonde had realized then she was famished – and had already promised herself a decent cheeseburger.

She had crossed through the portal into her apartment, peeled off her bloody fatigues, showered, did a little makeup (it always amazed her how a little thing like that could make a girl feel like a million bucks), then fluffed her hair with the blow dryer. She slipped into something comfortable – jeans, Nikes, and her favorite "I Run With The Big Dogs" T-shirt, then gotten into her car and hurried over. She wondered, briefly if she should have worn something a little snazzier for her first night back. Nah, why bother? In this town, who would notice? 

Fortune smiles on the foolish. She had taken a chance on the garage and was rewarded. Coming around the near turn on the second level, she nearly collided with a minivan backing out of its space. The family within had no doubt just enjoyed A Shark's Tale and was now on their way home. She bade them Godspeed, then zipped into the beckoning slot.

Upon exiting the coupe, Giselle once again admired the Acura's clean lines. She liked the car, its elegant simplicity and stunning performance – and, it was a Honda product. Around here, you couldn't throw a stone in any direction without hitting one. For now, she would revel in that added layer of anonymity. That was why she had returned to Burbank instead of going home to Chicago after so many years. Here, she was just another six-foot Blonde in Tinseltown. Anyway, she already had an apartment here, a life – such as it was. Until she could reunite with the one who meant more to her than Life itself, this existence would have to suffice. For now, Giselle would just blend in – and attempt to shut out the horror of the last few days.

*****

Sadie had been in constant communication with '1jb' - now Aurora - since taking control of the Praetor's console. Adapting to the command systems of the great starship was merely an extension of what she had already accomplished with the master console. She had brought the disrupters online and aimed them dead-center at Arcturus Prime's capital city. At the end, she had uplinked herself to the starship's mainframe, then used its personnel portal to whisk Giselle aboard with seconds to spare. Even as the S.A.D.M. was laying waste to the Control Chamber and planetary shields, Sadie was firing the main disrupter bank to administer the coup de grace.

Giselle had watched dispassionately as Arcturus Prime died. She could imagine those tens of billions of 'civilized' beings crying out in horror and... utter astonishment, to have been beaten at their own game by a semi-civilized savage, her mate, her laptop computer – and the Arcturans' own ultra-modern, ultra-lethal weapon of mass destruction, of which they had lost control. 

She tried not to imagine the hundreds of billions of others, over countless centuries, whom the Arcturans had callously erased in the name of 'entertainment'. She idly wondered how many Arcturans, when faced with their own death, had been perverse enough to cum – and how many had simply peed their pants. Jerk THAT, you bastards! Lorelei had never been intended to lay waste to an entire race or planet? Sue me! Say hello to the new, improved Lorelei 2.0 – Planetary annihilatance.

Upon arrival in Earth orbit, Giselle had one final duty to discharge. Using the portal's time displacement capability, she would arrange a series of 'visitations'. First, she would greet an astonished little boy who, moments before, had been peeing in the North Woods. Next would come a badly burned Ranger lieutenant. She would scoop him out of Haiphong harbor, where he had been blown by the force of the first exploding gasoline drum. Finally, she would chat with a soon-to-be-beautiful spy, just coming into her own. Giselle would tell each of them a story – at least, their part in it.

The lieutenant would require medical care; a very special 'inoculation'. She would then send him back to Japan. Dr. Hatsumi and Mike's surrogate 'family' would welcome him home, care for him while Lorelei healed his body. At the same time, he would have to face the most difficult phase of his mission and life. Lorelei would change him in other ways, ways few men ever contemplate. 

Certainly, Lorelei's designers had never considered the effect of their powerful mutagenic agent on a person born with Klinefelter's Syndrome. The extra X chromosome Mike Blair carried within his genetic matrix had a bizarre 'wild card' effect on the Lorelei process. He survived his 'inoculation' – at the price of his gender. He – she – would be strong enough to deal with that, knowing it was that transformation that would enable her to infiltrate The Tournament and wreak a bloody vengeance no other human could. 

At last, 'Giselle René Du Mont' would return to the United States. She would re-join her old world in a new identity and capacity and secure the position with Project Lorelei. Then, she would take the fateful injection that would, among other powers, enable her to morph at will. Lorelei's originators had made that ability the showcase of the project; the 'ultimate Stealth technology'. She had been testing the limits of her morphing ability when her spirit guide had first manifested itself in physical form, causing Swifty Pike such shock and awe.

Finally, Giselle established herself in the apartment in Burbank, within the urban swell of Los Angeles – The City of Angels. Thus, she would be in the right place at the right time, where the Arcturans would find her – exactly where her 'angel' had told her they would look. At that time, she would have exactly the right skills and tools to get the job done. Her angel had made certain of that, too. 

*****

Giselle had wanted to contact Geoffrey first thing; tell him she was home and safe, how much she loved him and wanted nothing more in life than to be with him. With her laptop gone – left behind on The Arena - she had been unable to e-mail him right away. She had a desktop computer in her apartment, but it was in her closet, not even hooked up. She had used her laptop exclusively since purchasing it. Besides, there was that pesky eight-hour time zone difference. He likely wouldn't check his e-mail until morning, anyway. 

She would return home after dinner, plug the older system back in, and send the most important electronic message of her life. She would have to tell him everything, but not over the Internet or phone; he deserved better. She would want to do that in person. Then, he could make an informed decision about the future of their relationship. She prayed he would still feel the same for her after she told him.

She skipped down the stairs and entered Fuddruckers through the promenade entrance. She had been looking forward to this for a week. What a break; for once, there was no line. OK, she would splurge; the half-pound Bacon-Cheddar burger, with fries – and one of Fuddies' signature chocolate shakes, the kind you had to eat with a spoon. She already had the ten-dollar bill in her hand when she stepped up to the counter.

"Gina", as the nametag read, was futzing around with something below counter level. She straightened up and... you could feel the shock radiate from her, as though she had been physically struck.

"W-w-welcome to F-F-Fud...rucker's. C-can I t-take y-y-your order?"

Giselle calmly placed her order, added a smile, and handed the girl the ten-dollar bill. The flustered order taker managed a weak smile of her own and handed the Blonde her change and the little coaster-thingy that would light up and buzz when the order was ready.

Giselle picked up her shake at the bakery/confectionary counter, then went to find a table. The big wood-and-plaster room with its stuffed-to-the-gills Rock 'n Roll memorabilia felt comforting. The Elvis booth was available. Aw, what the Hell? She walked up the short flight of stairs and across the room, placed her shake on the table, slid around the semi-circular red vinyl bench and gratefully leaned back against the high rear cushion. 

The exhausted woman was troubled by Gina's reaction. It wasn't like Giselle was some big-time Hollywood star. Burbank was pretty blasé about that anyway. People in 'The Business' frequented stores and restaurants in this town every day. Hell, she herself had once run into Julian McMahon from Nip/Tuck in CompUSA! As far as Gina was concerned, the tall Blonde should be just another nobody like her. What had spooked the girl? Giselle glanced down at her T-shirt with its dated pop-culture legend and decided she should have put on something a little more presentable after all. She didn't even want to think about it – or anything else – anymore. The glad-to-be-ex-warrior just closed her eyes and let her mind drift....

"Giselle? Giselle? I have your cheeseburger."

Her eyes flew open, even as her body jerked bolt-upright. Gina jumped back, nearly dropping the serving basket. The coaster-thingy was merrily vibrating across the tabletop, lights blinking. Giselle quickly flashed a reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry I startled you. I must have dozed off."

The girl stepped forward again, placing the basket on the edge of the table and sliding it forward gingerly. She then carefully lay a few dollar bills and coins on the tabletop.

"That's OK. If anybody deserves a little shut-eye, it's you. The Manager asked me to give you your money back. This one's on us."

"Uh... thank you."

"No, thank you, from all of us, for – everything."

Gina had been thorough. She had added slices of tomato, onion and pickles to the side of the plate, plus the little paper cups of ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise from the condiments bar. Giselle plopped a slice of tomato, a few pickles and some mustard on her burger, picked it up, and took a bite. She chewed thoughtfully. Which had surprised her more? That she had dozed off? That the girl had brought her order to the table? Or that she had called Giselle by name? The concerned blonde had a really bad feeling about this.

The televisions were on; all of them. Each was tuned to a different network, but the story was the same. It was all about The Tournament. Every network anchor, plus all the correspondents and studio analysts, were hashing, re-hashing, and re-re-hashing the details. There were video clips and sound bites, too; Giselle and Geoffrey together, their battles with the Golganthans, her demolition of the ant, Leatherface and the Raptors, plus Geoffrey's duel with the Night Stalkers (the latter two via night-vision imaging), the ambushes in the forest, the final showdown with the Praetor and Arcturan warriors in the Control Chamber, even a from-space shot of Arcturus Prime shattering. 

The Arcturans had had a macabre sense of the theatrical. Earth was transmissions-capable? Fine; enjoy the show! The signal from Arcturus had hit Earth's network of communications satellites even as Giselle arrived on The Arena. It had overwhelmed the native protocols and repeated the feed to all ground stations and receivers. The Arcturan feed had flooded the airwaves and cable networks, being broadcast on every channel. In a final, ghastly bit of showmanship, Aurora's trans-portal signal had added the final exclamation point to the tale. It had even transmitted the 'follow-up', where she had confronted her former selves and set them on the path towards the fate that awaited them all. The television analysts were still trying to fathom the explanation for the second signal, convinced as they were Giselle had died along with Arcturus Prime itself.

Giselle realized Geoff had had no idea of what was going on before he arrived on The Arena because, by his own admission, he had been locked away in his room, studying for finals with the TV off. In the ultimate Survivor-meets-Big-Brother nightmare, everyone within range of a television set had been able to watch every thrilling, bloody, sordid detail; the battles, intimate moments, sex, superhuman powers, incarnation of her lupine spirit guide, even the final revelation of her origins, spoken from her own lips!

And watch, they had. It wasn't the number-one topic of conversation; it was the only topic of conversation - on every television program and radio talk show, as well as at every marketplace, bar, restaurant, beauty shop, street corner and water cooler on the planet. Every place except this one; no one in Fuddruckers on San Fernando Road in beautiful downtown Burbank was watching television this night. Instead, every astonished eye was glued on one of the planet's two newest, brightest 'stars', clad in her ironic 'I Run With The Big Dogs' T-shirt, sitting in their midst, watching TV and eating her cheeseburger. Giselle felt really uncomfortable.

"Well, I guess this will take some of the heat off Paris Hilton," she mused sadly.

"Geoffrey The Warrior" had become an unqualified hero. It was already speculated the machinery was in motion to have him succeed his grandmother directly. The plans to award him his nation's highest military honor were stalled on a minor technicality; he was not yet an official member of the armed forces. That issue was being hammered out in Commons that very week. Once the special exception was passed, the awards ceremony would be scheduled with alacrity. Giselle was happy for that, and him. He certainly deserved that honor, and more. 

Her own reviews were more guarded – and mixed. On the one hand, people were grateful to have had this 'superweapon' there to protect them. On the other, they were uncomfortable it existed at all. This... thing had once been human? The 'Terminator' mindset was deeply embedded into Humankind's collective consciousness. Now, here the deadly device was, come to life. Worse, 'Sky Net' existed as well, in the form of Sadie. Worst of all, the pair had access to the nation's nuclear arsenal, just like in the movies! That Lorelei was a 'biological', not a cyborg, made no difference to them whatsoever. How many more of these 'time bombs' were still out there, ticking? 

Using the Freedom of Information act, reporters had dug up everything they could on her past life in the military. When the name Wolfen surfaced, the tabloids went off like a bomb, trumpeting the Pentagon's top-secret "werewolf warriors". In the end, one older, more fundamental human prejudice eclipsed all others; 'Giselle' had been a Tranny....

Then Hollywood Tonight had aired. Well, why not? The show must go on. Dottie O'Reilly blathered on inanely, as she always does. This time, the focus was on the titillating Hollywood-style romantic aspects of the Giselle-Geoffrey tryst. A parallel to Hugh Grant and Divine Brown was drawn. Giselle could feel her skin crawl. Poor Geoff! After everything else his family had endured in the last ten years, this was the last thing they needed!

Then had come the latest blockbuster from Hollywood. Mark Burrell, the King of Reality TV, was hard at work developing his own version of The Tournament. NBS had already picked up the broadcast rights, sight unseen. It would premier in January, immediately after the Super Bowl. Giselle threw down her burger in disgust. Bread and circuses! She stared at her plate, wondering if she would ever be hungry again. Whatever her personal feelings, she realized there was now a very compelling reason to leave nothing of her behind in the restaurant. She looked up, caught the eye of one of the people behind the counter, and signaled for a carry-out container.

This was a complete disaster. The Arcturans had reached out from the grave and ripped her heart out. The Tournament had done far more than thrill its earthbound audience. Like it or not, it had also been a de facto showcase for the full spectrum of Lorelei's combat capabilities. The 'weapon that did not exist' did now –and everyone on Earth knew it. Giselle knew with grim certainty, Earth would soon learn this most bizarre weapon of mass destruction had come home. The Pentagon would want it back – and so would every other government on Earth. 

Geoff was a target now, just as she was. She hadn't foreseen that when she infused him, but she hadn't foreseen any of this. Thanks to his 'inoculation', he would have much improved strength, speed, agility and audial-visual acuity, not to mention his self-regenerative ability, magnificent physique and endowment. Apparently, he also had her reflexive responses and fighting skills, born of a lifetime of combat training. Race Memory. Giselle just shook her head. He would not have the full range of her capabilities, including her ability to morph. That came only from the administration of the Lorelei serum itself. 

Giselle was the only one to realize the key to surviving the Lorelei transformation was to approach it in two steps; first, the 'inoculation', provided by a Lorelei carrier's antibodies, then administration of the serum itself. In the convoluted logic that was time travel, she had been her own antibodies donor. Geoffrey had been the first 'outsider' to survive intact, which merely strengthened her premise. 

All written material dealing with the formula had been destroyed, under orders. All that remained was the copy Sadie had guarded on Giselle's laptop, which was gone, and the companion copy on the desktop computer in her apartment. No one would know with certainty she had retained a copy, but they certainly would not rule out the possibility.

They did know she and Geoff were sources for the Lorelei matrix. In SpySpeak, that made them 'commodities' that might yet be harvested. It would be her job to see that never happened – to either of them. If Giselle had her way, no other human being would ever, ever be subjected to Lorelei's siren song.

Gone was any possibility Giselle would be able to 'blend in' with the general population. She would now be stalked, hunted, wherever she went - by more than paparazzi. Anyone who lent her assistance, anyone close to her, would be in peril. That anonymous 'they' would do whatever they had to – lie, cheat, steal, bribe, subvert, co-opt, kill – to get their hands on her. 

Then, there was the ordnance 'bonanza' that was Aurora. They might not yet realize the fabulous starship had been the vehicle for her return to Earth, but they weren't stupid. The follow-up transmissions from space had to come from somewhere other than Arcturus Prime and she was back on Earth, not random atoms scattered across the Universe. It wouldn't take long for them to put two and two together. When they did, they would redouble their efforts to snare both. Then, they would reverse-engineer their prizes – take them apart, piece by piece – to see what made them 'tick'. Giselle knew that all too well; she had done that job for them more than thirty years.

Thanks, but no thanks. I have my own agenda.

Gone, too, was the likelihood of reuniting with her love. The royal family would have long since closed ranks. Their army of spin-doctors would already be in overdrive controlling this public relations nightmare. Geoffrey's grandmother was one of the most powerful women on the planet. Giselle was fairly confident the woman would be able to protect her grandson until he could marshal the forces necessary under his own command to ensure his personal safety. Giselle was just as confident the lady in question would see to it Geoffrey and the blonde femme fatale would never again share the same continent, much less the same bed. That was, far and away, the most painful realization of all.




Once A Wolf Ch. 10



She caught the movement in her peripheral vision as she was stuffing the foam container with the remains of her dinner. KNBS's remote van was setting up right outside the front door. She glanced around the room, idly wondering which one of her fellow diners had dropped the dime on her - and which one of the station's vultures had clawed his way to the top of the carcass? When she saw the immaculately-coiffed, not-a-strand-out-of-place salt-and-pepper hair, she knew. Of course. Hank Charles; Mr. Glib himself. She had seen odd snatches of his occasional network reporting during his days at the network's Chicago station. He had that touch of grey now and was a little farther up the food chain, but nothing else had changed. He still came across with the same practiced, polished, plastic pizzazz.

She was cleaning up the last few scraps when she saw them make their move for the door. She wasn't worried so much about the newspeople as the army of lab technicians that would swarm every inch of the place in the Newsies' wake. Got everything that touched your hands or mouth, Honey? That includes the milk shake glass and spoon. Saliva contains DNA. She wasn't willing to leave even that much for the bastards at Aberdeen. She would have to take her chances on the epithelials. She was out the back door in a flash and in the RSX. She made the one-block dash to the on-ramp of the Five Freeway before anyone saw the car. She would double back before they had a chance to block off the ramps.

She was surprised – pleasantly so - the Media had gotten to her first. She would have expected the first response to be the nearest SWAT team. Their orders would be to capture if possible, but contain her, regardless the cost, until reinforcements arrived – a lot of reinforcements. That would have been ugly. Under no circumstances would she surrender willingly. People would have died; probably, a lot of people. Collateral Damage. But they would have taken her eventually, through sheer weight of numbers. 

If she ever were to be captured, there would be no trial. At whatever agency's leisure, she would quietly 'disappear' – and drop off the radar forever. They would make up whatever excuse suited them, or none at all. She guessed everyone had been caught flat-footed; they thought her dead in the planet's explosion. Better she had died, rather than living the rest of her life as a hunted animal. If she were ever to know peace of mind again, Giselle Du Mont would have to disappear tonight. 

Of course, it didn't have to be this way; any of it. She did have Aurora. It was, without a doubt, the most ultimate 'ultimate weapon' the planet had ever seen. With it, she could write her own ticket anywhere. Is that what she really wanted to do? If she used it that way, how would she be any different than the despised Arcturans? Baby steps, Giselle, she decided. Deal with the larger issues when you have the luxury of time.

She would have to find a new place to live, of course. She was surprised Special Ops wasn't crawling all over this apartment already. Due to her own misguided admission days earlier, she was certain they were tearing L.A. apart, looking for it. She packed only the essentials - that which would fit in the RSX in a single load. She would stay at the 'Hotel Aurora' until she could arrange another apartment under a different identity. The accommodations would be a little Spartan, at first, but the price was right – and it offered a helluva view.

She sent the final e-mail – to the private address he had given her - before removing the hard drive from the desktop computer and leaving the apartment forever. At least, she hoped it was a private address. She sincerely wanted it to be him that received it, not one of the legions of oh-so-well-intentioned handlers, filters, and other toadies she knew to permeate his life. He would know soon enough she had returned. She was certain every news organization on Earth was already interrupting normal broadcasting with the "breaking news". 

There was so much she wanted to say, free at last from all restrictions and prying eyes. Now, she wasn't sure she should. She had no idea how he felt, now that the magnitude of all these revelations had sunk in. Above all else, she wanted him to protect himself, regardless the cost to them – to her. In the end, she restricted herself to one anguished plea she thought he would understand.

Just tell me you don't hate me. That's all I ask.

*****

For the past three days, the Honorable Adam Sampson, Senior Senator from Colorado, had sat at the desk in his private study, stunned senseless. The only surprise in all of this had been that Mike – Giselle – had been alive all these years. Everything else had been in keeping with the character of the soldier Adam Sampson had known so briefly, but whose influence now touched every living thing on Earth. An engineer? A Ranger? A ninja? A guinea pig in a super-secret DOD weapons development program? He had even sacrificed his, his... oh, God! And now this.... How much more did one person have to give for his country, race, and PLANET? 

The newly-appointed Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee opened his desk drawer and withdrew a thick folder he had received from Swifty Pike. Until the blonde warrior's final, earth-shaking oral admission, neither man had been aware of their common link. The Senator had gotten on the phone immediately to make sure the former general did know. The general had sent the file in response. The Senator had also placed calls to three fellow former aviators and five Native American Army veterans, all of whom he had kept in touch with through the years. He had one more call pending – and hoped the Palace would take it.

Adam now re-read the contents of the folder. It was all there; a drunken soldier/technocrat's amazing story of dedication and service, beginning with a forty-three-year-old summer camp 'confessional'. Swifty Pike had twisted a lot of arms in Washington, Illinois, and Japan to verify the details. Then, everyone on Earth had witnessed the 'confirmation' with their own eyes on television, although many were still grappling with the ramifications of what they had seen. Giselle Du Mont had been so single-minded in purpose, she had manipulated Time itself and her own previous incarnations to achieve the end that had to be. An entire lifetime dedicated to one, desperate roll of the dice - for stakes NO ONE could have conceived! Senator Adam Sampson suddenly felt old – and very, very small.

This bullshit about her being some kind of freak or monster was going to stop! If anyone deserved the label "patriot", it was her. Tomorrow morning, he would go to the Senate and open a very public hearing. After all, that is what committee chairmen did, didn't they? He could think of at least one retired general, five ex-Rangers and his own former crew who would jump at the chance to testify at last. Through them, he would tell the whole fucking world a story, all of it, a lifetime in the making. With a little luck, he would add the testimony of a soon-to-be King to that list of testimony. Knowing her as he now did, he was certain there would be others who would come forward. The Congressional Medal of Honor was chickenfeed compared to what she deserved, but by God, they were going to give it to her this time or they were all gonna get a complete set of lumps!

*****