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On the other side of the window, Chuck Banner sat in his padded command chair, his feet up on the console, contemplating the dawn. He yawned and stretched, clearly uncomfortable in his silver space suit. Idly, he reached overhead and flicked several switches.

Behind him, a spacetight door slid open. A clunky service robot waddled in carrying a large thermos in its right claw. It stopped next to Banner and turned its cylindrical head toward him.

“would you like your coffee chuck,” the robot spoke in a metallic monotone, his light-bulb eyes flashing with each syllable.

Banner casually reached over to take the flask. “Thanks, F.R.E.D.D. How long until we reach our next delivery?”

“we are scheduled to arrive at space station x-9a in two hours forty-seven minutes at present speed.”

Banner took a sip of the coffee. “Still no word from the Dispatcher on what our cargo is?”

The tape reels on F.R.E.D.D.’s barrel chest whirred and clicked for a moment. “negative.”

“Ever since we picked up that container on planet Chartia Three I’ve been a little spooked. I like knowing what I’m delivering. But the Dispatcher was pretty good at avoiding the details. Except for the part about ‘Don’t open the container under any circumstances.’ She was explicit about that.”

“agreed.”

On the console in front of Banner, a yellow light blinked, accompanied by an insistent beeping. The small monitor speaker next to the light began to glow.

“incoming message from the dispatcher,” F.R.E.D.D. said.

“Maybe now we’ll find out what our little secret mission is all about.”

Banner swept his feet off the console, ran his hands through his close-cropped black hair, and ran his hand over the stubble on his sharp chin. “Do I look okay?”

“the dispatcher cannot see you chuck i do not understand the relevance of your inquiry.”

Banner waved dismissively. “It’s all about making a good impression, kid.” He pushed the button next to the winking light. “Good morning, Dispatcher.”

“Good morning, Clarence,” replied a sultry woman’s voice, its liqueur-smooth tone unbroken by the millions of light years of space static through which it had traveled. “I hope you slept well?”

Banner cleared his throat in embarrassment. He hated being called by his first name. “Yes, thank you, Dispatcher. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” the voice purred. “I don’t mean to disturb your morning coffee and paper, but since I see that you are getting close to your destination, I thought I’d give you some more details about your cargo.”

“I appreciate it, Dispatcher. You know how I don’t like to fly blind.”

“Hmm,” the voice cooed. “Indeed I do. You prefer keeping your eyes open. Well, I can tell you this. You’re delivering a brand-new Mark Six ether converter.”

Banner raised an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty expensive piece of equipment.”

“Don’t worry. Space station X-9A has already paid for it. Your job is to install the ether converter in the engine room of a new space cruiser that the station’s owner is building. It’s quite a special ship, I understand.”

Banner rubbed his chin. “Ether converters are standard equipment in vermilion drives. You know how dangerous those things are.”

“That’s why I’m sending him our best repairman.” The smile came through the speaker quite clearly, and it nearly melted Banner’s resistance. “You won’t disappoint me, will you, Clarence? The Company has a big stake in the success of this new ship.”

Banner hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, I can install it.”

“Good. Thank you, Clarence. I promise to make it up to you. Someday.” The speaker went dark.

“I hate it when she calls me that,” Banner muttered. He turned to F.R.E.D.D. “How good are you at installing ether converters?”

Whirr. Click. “i have a type alpha certification.”

Banner nodded, then turned back to the command console and began operating the controls. “Good. We’ll need them. I’m a little rusty.”

“that is not possible you are a human you do not have metal parts.”

Banner laughed heartily and slapped F.R.E.D.D.’s back.

* * *

As the Ranger approached the doughnut-shaped space station X-9A, three spindly landing legs deployed from beneath the curving, steel-colored hull. The ship made a smooth approach to the landing pad on the station’s spherical central module, positioned in the center of the doughnut and connected by four large spokes. A moment later, the landing pad began to descend into the module and a covering panel slid into place.

Once the pressurization had been equalized, Banner opened the main passenger door right behind the cockpit window. Below the door, a ladder slid down from a narrow opening, settling on the floor of the hangar. Banner stood in the door and looked around the hangar; it was a typical space habitation, with pipes and conduits running along the bare-metal ceiling and walls, smooth tiled floor beneath. Banner’s eyes were drawn to a contingent of four men walking briskly toward the Ranger. Banner climbed down the ladder to meet them.

The short, stocky, bald man in the lead extended his hand as Banner reached the bottom of the ladder. “Welcome to space station X-9A. I am Jules Ferguson, the station master.” Banner shook his hand, noticing his bland gray business suit — unusual attire for a space station.

Banner shook Ferguson’s hand, meeting the man’s firm, almost challenging, grip. “Chuck Banner. I’ve never been out this far before. It’s a pleasure.” He kept his voice light, despite noticing that the other three men behind Ferguson were well-armed guards — with their firearms already out.

“You are alone on your ship, yes?” Ferguson asked.

Banner was about to mention F.R.E.D.D., but something about the way Ferguson asked the question made him reconsider. “That’s correct.”

“Good.” Ferguson raised a hand and flicked a finger in Banner’s direction, and the three guards swiftly moved to either side of Banner and behind him. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of leadership on the space station since you were instructed to come here,” Ferguson said, his voice level, almost bored. “I am now in charge, and the cruiser with the vermilion drive now belongs to me. Once you install the ether converter, I will be able to carry out my plans. Take him.” Ferguson turned and began to walk back the way he had just come.

The guards on either side of Banner grabbed one of his arms and began to pull. “Where are you taking me?” Banner struggled but the guards’ grips were too tight. The guard behind him shoved him in the back with his rifle to get him moving.

Ferguson didn’t stop or turn around. “Not to worry. You’ll be well taken care of.” He chuckled. “For as long as you’re useful.”

Back on the Ranger, F.R.E.D.D. slowly and carefully raised his head until it was just above the bottom of the window, enough to observe the guards shoving Banner through the door out of the hangar. Then just as carefully he lowered his head again.

The tape reels spun furiously as he calculated what he had just seen.

“this does not look good.”

* * *

Who is Ferguson and what nefarious deeds does he have planned for the vermilion cruiser — and for Chuck Banner? The plot thickens in Part Two of Space Repairman: The Vermilion Gambit!

Colonel Fitzhugh knocked softly on the door to Major Candace Dare’s room. A curt “Come,” came through the door.

Fitzhugh opened the door to find Dare lowering her Luger. “I thought you were Helga Hotstuff.”

“You were going to shoot her? I thought we talked,” Fitzhugh said.

“About not shooting Von Zorm, if I remember correctly.”

“Perhaps I should take your Luger away from you. I want to be clear that you are not allowed to shoot anyone.”
Fitzhugh closed the door and sat at a small desk in the room. Dare put her pistol in her handbag.

“Well, Major, what did you think about dinner last night?”

Dare sat at the end of her immaculately made bed.
“He certainly feels he’s God’s gift to the planet, doesn’t he, Colonel?”

“Yes, he does. He kept steering the conversation away from what he is doing here. We have to be firm today, we must see what is really going on.”

A knock at the door ended conversation. Major Dare walked to open the door. “Yes?”

Helga “Hotstuff” Haniker stood in the hallway. “Ah, Herr Colonel and Fraulein Major are asked to come to the dining room for breakfast. The Doctor hopes to show you all his progress today.”

“Thank you, Miss Haniker,” Fitzhugh said. “We’ll be right there.”

Helga smiled and nodded, turning to walk away.

Dare closed the door, “Do you think we are really going to get the tour?” she asked.

“Only one way to find out” Fitzhugh pointed to the door.

They walked down the carpeted hallway. Fitzhugh thought Dare’s heels still sounded ominous, even on the well-padded wall to wall carpet. They entered the same dining area. Dr. Herbst Von Zorm, stood waiting by the well-appointed table.

“Guten Morgen,” he said. “I trust you slept well and I did not keep you too late last night.”

“Morning, Doctor,” Fitzhugh replied for both of them. “The rooms are very comfortable, thank you.”

“Ah,” Von Zorm smiled, the scar stretching, increasing Fitzhugh’s uneasiness. “You must have a good breakfast, you two. I have much to show you, you will need to keep up your strength.”

Von Zorm pulled out a chair for Dare and nodded to one for Fitzhugh. They both took there places and Von Zorm sat.

“Tea, Major?” Von Zorm proffered a sterling silver pot. She held up the delicate porcelain teacup that sat in front of her. He poured Fitzhugh a cup afterwards.

The servant that waited on them last night for dinner began to move dishes to the table.

“I have not quite gotten used to the way you Amerikaners have breakfast. Karl has slowly learned from the soldiers stationed here,” Von Zorm said.

“Don’t go through any trouble over us, Doctor,” Fitzhugh said.

“No trouble, Herr Colonel, no trouble at all,” Von Zorm waved his hand. “We will start this morning at the main research lab. It is amazing the results we have been getting. It all depends on the right enzymes, chemical enhancements and timing. The timing is essential.”

“What about training?” Dare asked.

Von Zorm laughed. “It is a wonder! With all the experiments, the creatures do not require training, they are naturally aggressive!”

Fitzhugh and Dare exchanged glances.

The door to the dining hall opened and Helga walked in. The doctor seemed miffed.

“Ja,” he scolded, “Was ist?”

“Herr Doctor,” Haniker looked shaken. “You must take the phone call.”

An annoyed look crossed Von Zorm’s face. He quickly smiled and stood. “Pardon me. I shall return, Karl will see to your needs.”

“What do you think happened?” Dare asked.

“Obviously something is not going to plan.” Fitzhugh nodded towards Karl. “We’ll have to watch our talk,” he whispered.

Dare nodded. “So, what sort of creature is the doctor developing here?”

“We’ll find out soon.”

Von Zorm entered the room looking agitated.

“Bad news, Doctor?” Fitzhugh asked.

“It is a sad day in history, Herr Colonel. I was just informed that an old friend was executed as a war criminal.”

“Really? Who?”

“Reich Marshall Heinrich Doetz. He and I have known each other for many years. He is no more a war criminal than I.”

“How can you be sure? War cause people to do many things,” Fitzhugh said.

“Heinrich and I belonged to a group called the ‘Phoenix Brotherhood.’ This was started after World War I to help Germany to rebuild. Like a phoenix rises from the ashes, so was our hope was to rebuild Germany and make it a super power that it should have been.

“Heinrich recruited the smartest people, helped others become educated. I am a doctor today because of help from the Phoenix Brotherhood. It was, in fact Heinrich Doetz that helped finance and empower Hitler.”

“Wouldn’t that in itself make him a war criminal?” Dare asked despite a look from Fitzhugh.

Von Zorm sat at the table, smiling at Dare. “Why, Fraulein Dare, I must give you a history lesson, perhaps after visiting the laboratory. Suffice it to say to say that the young Adolf Hitler allowed himself to be swayed by less than intelligent advisors. It was in the last few weeks of the war that Hitler realized this and promoted Heinrich. For this he gets executed.”

“I am sorry for the loss of your friend and colleague, Doctor,” Fitzhugh chimed in. “Perhaps there is a way to honor his accomplishments for the better.”

“An excellent suggestion, Herr Colonel. But please, enough of the past. You are here to see the future. Meet back here in ten minutes and we will go to the lab. Helga will give you special clothing to change in to before we go.”

As if on cue, Helga appeared with two sets of folded overalls. Fitzhugh and Dare returned to their rooms to change.

After changing the two waited in the dining room. Fitzhugh looked at the coveralls that Dare wore. It was amazing how tight and form fitting they were. Surely the don’t keep that size commonly in inventory, he thought.

Doctor Von Zorm appeared dressed in a similar outfit. “Ah, good. You are all ready. Come let us depart.”

Fitzhugh followed as the doctor led the way. Major Dare stayed at his side. They came to a door.

“Right through here. The main laboratory is located in the next building.” The doctor opened the door and led them through and enclosed walkway to a large structure.

Entering the building, Fitzhugh saw a Sergeant and Corporal standing at the door. They both wore white coveralls. Their coveralls had white web belts with holsters. They each had a shoulder patch that Fitzhugh couldn’t quite make out.

“Do you recognize that patch, Major?”

“No,” she answered.

“All in good time, Herr Colonel. You will see a close-up of the patch as we go. We are creating a specialized unit here. They should have their own insignia.”

The guards let them pass through the outer doors into a long hallway. Doctor Von Zorm continued to lead them at a hardy pace. He stopped at one of the many doors lining the hall. He entered the room, Fitzhugh and Dare followed.

A large steel table sat in the center of the room. The room had high glass walls on two sides. Each room on either side was filled with wire holding cages. On the table sat three sets of surgical hats, masks and gloves.

“Here,” Von Zorm pointed at the supplies, “You must put these on.”

Fitzhugh watched as Von Zorm donned the garments and tried to follow. Dare was finished before the doctor.

“Fraulein Major, you must have some medical experience, Ja?”

“I was trained as a nurse,” she answered dryly.

Fitzhugh struggled until Dare assisted.

“Ready?” Von Zorm asked.

Fitzhugh nodded.

Von Zorm went to the door. “I must ask you not to try to touch any of the creatures. They can be quite violent. And please only talk in whispers.” He opened the door.

He led them into the room. The lighting was dim. Rows of wire cages, six high lined the room. In each a white bundle lay in the center. There was no movement. There was no sound.

“Are they dead?” Dare whispered. She approached one the cages at her eye level.

She whirled and faced the doctor. “What kind of joke are you pulling on us, Doctor?”

Fitzhugh moved in between the two. “What do you mean, Major?”

She nodded at the cage. “Take a good look, Colonel.”

Fitzhugh peered inside. The white bundle in the cage was stretched out. He could detect no movement or breathing. As his eyes adjusted, he realized what the creature was. He shared Dare’s anger.

He spun to face Von Zorm.

“You brought us all the way here to look at rabbits?”

Von Zorm chuckled. “Would it surprise you to learn, Herr Colonel, that these rabbits are the most fearsome creatures I have ever know. These are not just rabbits, they are truly ‘Killer Rabbits.’”

In the meantime, stay tuned for next week’s regular installment of They Came from New Jersey! over most of these stations.

Colonel Fitzhugh found Major Candace Dare at the dining table. A cup of steaming coffee sat in front of her. He watched as she meticulously cleaned her pistol.

“A Luger? Seriously Major?” Fitzhugh asked.

“I got this from a fine German officer. Number sixty-seven or eight, I believe.”

“Not a powerful as a 45, I’m afraid.”

Dare laughed. “Who need power when you have accuracy? Besides nine millimeter is the future.”

“You can keep your little pea-shooter, Major. I’ll keep my Colt, thank you. Where’s the coffee?”

Dare nodded her head without dropping her pistol. “There’s some eggs and sausage there too.”

Fitzhugh didn’t feel like breakfast, but knew it would be a long day. He went over and put a couple of sausages with some eggs and filled a coffee mug. He sat across from Dare.

“So, Colonel, what are we expecting today?” asked Dare.

Fitzhugh took a sip of the coffee, decided it wasn’t half bad. “We are expecting to meet Dr. Herbst Von Zorm. We will see how his experiments are coming along. The Pentagon wants some sort of update before they renew Recalcitrant Laboratories contract.”

“You mean Recalcitrant has been running the experiments?”

“Yes, Major. The army contracted Recalcitrant Labs for this project. Von Zorm is the director of the Frenchman’s Flat Facility.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of an ex-Nazi working for the lowest bidder, Colonel.”

Major Dare pulled back the action on her Luger and pulled the trigger. The click of the firing pin in the empty chamber resounded through the room. She started loading the clip.

“Promise me, Major, that you’re not going to shoot Von Zorm.”

Dare slipped the clip in the pistol, pulled back the action and placed the Luger in her holster.

“I’m not sure I can promise you that, Colonel. I can only promise to wait for your order to do so.”

“Fair enough, Major.”

Fitzhugh was mostly done his breakfast when the door opened. Goodman came through the door. He was carrying a large envelope.

“Good morning Colonel, Major,” he said. “I hope you’re ready for your travels today.”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Fitzhugh responded.

Major Goodman grabbed a mug of coffee and sat at the table. “We will have a car take you as far as Mercury, and then you’ll have to ride a jeep the Frenchman’s Flats. The road is a bit rough out there. I know it’s not comfortable, but it’s the only way.”

“Any incidents last night, Major Goodman?” Fitzhugh asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact there were, Colonel,” Goodman said. “Several buzzards were found near where you’re headed.”

“Buzzards? Aren’t they all over the place?”

“Sure are, Colonel. Just not ripped into little pieces. They were feeding on a dead rabbit when they were attacked. I can’t imagine something that could attack those buzzards without them flying off.” Major Goodman took a drink from his coffee.

“Anyway,” he said reaching and opening the envelope. “I’ve brought you these.”

He pulled a couple of badges and passed them to Fitzhugh and Dare.

“You’ll also need these.”

Major Dare looked at the second item. “What are these?”

“They will detect if you’re near radiation. The color will turn.”

“There’s radiation in the area?” Dare asked.

“Yes, Major,” Goodman said. “This is after all the Nuclear Test Site for the United States. Most of the hot areas are off limits, but the wind does kick up some sand that has radioactivity. You need to wear these badges at all times. When you get to Mercury, you will probably get new ones. They are real sticklers out there.”

Someone knocked on the door to the BOQ. A sergeant opened the door and looked in. “Ride’s here, Major.”

Goodman nodded, “Thanks sergeant. We’ll be out in a minute.” The sergeant left, closing the door.

“Any questions?” Goodman asked. Hearing none, he said, “We’ll let’s load up our gear and get you on your way.”

The staff car was waiting when the exited the BOQ. A sergeant quickly took their bags and placed them in the trunk. He held open the back doors for Colonel Fitzhugh and Major Dare.

“Colonel, the sergeant knows the rules of the road. The time schedule is tight, you don’t have time for sightseeing today,” Goodman said.

Fitzhugh smiled. “You see one desert, Major, you’ve seen them all. No, we just want to accomplish out mission and get back.”

Goodman held out his hand, “Good luck then. We’ll see you on the rebound.”

After climbing in, the sergeant started the car. He turned to his passengers. “Colonel, Major, I need to inform that at all times during this trip all windows need to remain closed. We will be driving through a possible ‘hot’ zone.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Fitzhugh said. “I’m glad we’re not here in July.”

The sergeant chuckled and drove the car.
They cleared the gate and headed down a single lane macadam road. Fitzhugh noted the tall fences on either side of the road, each topped with a bent spar holding five strands of barbed wire. Every fourth panel of the fence, a sign hung. The sign bore the radioactive symbol they wore as a badge with the familiar, “No Trespassing United States Government.”

“Welcome to the Nevada Test Site,” the sergeant said.

“Tell me about Mercury,” Dare asked.

“Mercury is the town where the scientists are housed. Supplies are shuttled there, and then out into the field. There is a big convoy at 0830 hours, Major Goodman wanted to be sure we weren’t stuck behind it. The town isn’t much, but they’re still building.”

“How far is it?”

“It will take about two and a half hours, Major. I’d go faster normally, but…”

“But you’re taking a colonel?” Fitzhugh asked.

“No, not that,” the sergeant replied. “It’s just that weird things are happening around here.”

“What kind of weird, son?” asked Fitzhugh.

“Colonel, we’re really not supposed to say. The brass says we have to keep everything hush-hush.”

“Sergeant, The Major and I are right from the Pentagon. If there is anything ‘weird’ we need to know. Are you talking about the dead deer and buzzards?”

“That’s what they report, Colonel. What they don’t report is that a dozen or so buffalo were slaughtered on this very road. It was like their insides were removed. All that was left was their skin.

“That’s why we’re going first. I’m doing recon to make sure nothing is on the road to stop the convoy. I’ll have to report at a station about an hour up the road.”

Fitzhugh sat back, silent. He knew Von Zorm was breeding an attack animal. Could the dead animals be the result of testing? he wondered.

Fitzhugh watched Major Dare. She sat, perfect in her uniform. Her legs were daintily crossed; her attention was focused out the window. She is right, he thought, Von Zorm has to behind this!

***

After an hour of riding, the car began to heat up. Even though the outside temperature was a cool fifty degrees, the olive drab pant of the staff car absorbed the heat from the sun. Mercifully, the sergeant rolled down his window at the checkpoint. He nodded that his passengers could do the same.

An MP came to the car. He double checked all the ID’s and radiation badges. The sergeant told the MP that all was clear.

“Windows up,” the sergeant said as they left the checkpoint.

Arriving in Mercury at 1100 hours, Fitzhugh was ready to pass out. The sergeant opened all the vents in the car announcing that they were heavily filtered.

Stepping out of the car, he gasped for fresh air.
He noticed Major Dare looking as prim and proper as ever, not showing the slightest sign of distress.
A jeep waited for them.

The sergeant loaded the bags in one of the back seats of the jeep, and drove off. Another sergeant waited next to the jeep. He wore a helmet. He approached Fitzhugh and Dare.

“Who’s riding shotgun?” he asked.

Dare volunteered, “I can.”

The sergeant reached in the back of the jeep and tossed Dare a fully loaded shotgun.

“Do I need this?” Dare asked.

“Hopefully not, Major. But we’ve had to in the past. Do you have a problem using it?”

“No sergeant, it looks like it could use cleaning, though,” Dare said after inspecting the shotgun.

“I clean it every night, ma’am. It’s just been a little dusty this morning.” He handed them both helmets and goggles to Dare. “You’ll need these, ma’am.” The sergeant looked at their radiation badges and decided they were good to go.

Fitzhugh climbed in the back. Dare sat up front, the shotgun across her lap, pointing outward. She held on to the gun with one hand and the hand bar with the other.

Fitzhugh felt as if he were ready to be thrown from the jeep. The ride was over rough, dirt roads. He hadn’t been in a jeep since he drove the general staff around in his days as a lieutenant in World War II Germany.

The same fences bordered the dirt road. Fitzhugh wondered about not having windows in the jeep. Several times dust swept across the road. When his eyes cleared, Fitzhugh check his radiation badge. He did not notice any color change.

He watched Dare from behind. She sat unmovable in the front seat. Her head turned back and forth scanning the road and area ahead. A couple of times her head would stop as she saw something ahead. Fitzhugh watched as she assessed the threat. When she was convinced that there was nothing to bother about, she resumed her scanning.

She reminded him of the gunny sergeants he hit the beach with in Inchon. She understood the battlefield, the need for vigilance. He decided he would never want Dare as an adversary.

At last they came to a checkpoint. Badges were re-examined. The jeep climbed a small hill afterwards and came to a small plateau. Several building were arranged on the level surface. The largest boasted a sign:

“Recalcitrant Laboratories, Inc. Modified Methods – Maximized Mission”

The jeep rolled to a stop.

Fitzhugh watched as Dare re-engaged the safety on the shotgun and handed it to the sergeant. She took off her helmet and goggles and replaced her WAC cap. She climbed out of the jeep and pushed her seat forward so Fitzhugh could climb out.

Two specialists came and took their bags as a woman came out of the front door.

“Colonel Fitzhugh? Major Dare? I am Helga Haniker, Dr. Von Zorm’s personal assistant. The specialists will take your belongings to your rooms. Come, I will take you to the Doctor.”

Fitzhugh was aware of the noticeable German accent in the young woman’s voice. Considering the worth of the Army contract, Recalcitrant Laboratories must have given Von Zorm quite a budget to afford a “personal assistant.” Of course, the rest of the “assistants” – specialists – were paid for by the US taxpayer.

Fitzhugh noticed Major Dare tensing up. He put his hand on her shoulder, “Relax, Major. I’m sure all will be fine.”

They followed Helga to an opulent reception area. “The doctor will see you shortly,” Helga announced and left.

“I’m not sure this is a real laboratory,” Dare whispered.

Fitzhugh put his finger to his lips. He pointed to his ear, and then the walls. “I’m sure this is a nice place,” he said in an overly loud voice. “I can’t wait to see the progress Dr. Von Zorm has made.”
Fitzhugh watched as Dare found a stuffed chair and sat. Her eyes stared at the door waiting.

Finally, the door creaked open. A tall, lanky man in a black suit walked into the room. Overtop the suit was a lab coat that reached to his knees. The lab coat bore a badge that simply stated, Dr. H. Von Zorm.

Fitzhugh watched as he approached. Dare stood at the same time the monocle dropped from Von Zorm’s eye.

“Guten Tag, Herr Colonel, Frau Major. Welcome to our little laboratory.”

“Fraulein Major,” Dare corrected him.

“Ach, so sorry Fraulein Major.”

Fitzhugh watched as Von Zorm’s smile grew. As the smile became larger, it stretched the Heidelberg scar under Von Zorm’s right eye, giving a ghastly appearance.

For the first time, Fitzhugh hoped that Dare’s Luger was indeed loaded.

Von Zorm took Major Dare’s arm. “Come, I will walk you to your rooms so you may freshen up. I have planned a wonderful dinner and we can talk and solve all the world’s problems.”

Dare glance back at Fitzhugh.

Fitzhugh mouthed the words, “Not yet.”

Patiently, eagerly, menacingly, they circled the barren patch of ocean unified in purpose and determined to throw their combined might against the expected flying saucer invasion. Here was where humanity prepared to fight the opening skirmish of the Battle for Earth.

* * *

“The rest of the fleet is in place, Admiral.”

Admiral Crane took the proffered clipboard from his yeoman and scanned the list with a nod of approval. “The largest naval force since Leyte Gulf. We might not be able to stop the flying saucers, but we sure can give them a bloody nose.” A formation of jet fighters roared low overhead, adding emphasis to his assessment. “How far out are we, Captain?”

Captain Richardson of the aircraft carrier Iwo Jima lowered his binoculars and leaned over the shielded radar display. “We’ll arrive at the designated coordinates in less than fifteen minutes, sir. We’re still steaming at full speed.”

“Very well. And we’re sure that those coordinates mark the location of the dimensional portal?”

“Yes, sir. The Peregrine confirmed it before we lost contact with her.”

Admiral Crane shook his head, handing the clipboard back to his aide. “Poor devils. At least we can avenge their deaths.” His voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty that undercut the bravado of his words.

“Yes indeed, Admiral. It’s going to be one for the history books.” Captain Richardson replied, sounding equally unconvinced. He raised his binoculars. “There’s the fleet now, Admiral.”

Admiral Crane hurried to the window. “Incredible.” Arrayed before them, the multi-national armada stretched from horizon to horizon.

“Radar contact!” the radar officer shouted, breaking the awed silence. Admiral Crane and Captain Richardson rushed to the display scope to watch the green sweeping arc of the radar signal. The screen displayed a large, amorphous blob in the sky, growing larger with each sweep. “Anomaly detected sir! I think it’s the portal.”

Admiral Crane looked up, and watched as a point of bright light appeared in the sky and began to expand. “Signal the fleet to stand by for action.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Captain Richardson hurried from the bridge to the combat command center.

Admiral Crane raised his binoculars slowly to his eyes. “Here we go,” he said quietly.

As the sphere of light expanded, a dark spot appeared in the middle and quickly grew, a black circle through which, the Admiral anticipated, would soon fly waves of hostile alien spacecraft.

For a moment, all was silent as every eye in the fleet stared in awe at the amazing sight above them. The portal stopped expanding, and for a moment everything was still.

Then, from the middle of the dark circle, an object appeared. It was silver and bulbous, and it moved slowly. Every weapon in the armada swiveled toward it.

On the bridge of the Iwo Jima, the radioman pressed his hand to his bulky headset. “Admiral!” he shouted. “Radio signal from the object! It’s . . . ” A grin of amazement and relief spread across his face.

“Yes? What is it? Put it on the speaker, Ensign!”

The radio officer threw a switch, and the overhead speaker crackled. ” . . . Repeat, this is the Navy airship Peregrine. Do not fire. This is the Peregrine. Hold your fire.”

* * *

In the command gondola of the Peregrine, Captain Rick Darrow and Lieutenant Don Stewart looked nervously at the hundreds of ships below them, the sight of which immediately erased the cheer they had felt moments before as they emerged from the darkness of the portal into familiar blue skies. Behind Darrow and Stewart, Professor Abbot and her daughter Claudine gripped their seat backs, the last vestiges of their smiles disappearing.

As Darrow released the talk button on his microphone, only static greeted them. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Someone turn on your radio!”

“Peregrine, Peregrine, this is the U.S.S. Iwo Jima. Boy are we happy to see you.”

Darrow and Stewart slumped in relief as the Abbots squealed in delight and hugged each other. Professor Abbot then reached over the seat to hug Captain Darrow from behind, and without thinking she kissed him hard when he turned to yell at her.

“Well,” Darrow said after a moment, straightening his ball cap. “At least wait until we land, will ya?”

“Well, hurry up, then.”

Darrow keyed the microphone. “We’re happy to see you too, Iwo Jima. We were able to destroy the source of the portal and no flying saucers were able to come through with us. Repeat, the portal is closed.”

“Roger, Peregrine. This is Admiral Crane to all ships. Stand down. I repeat, stand down from alert. The portal is closed.” The sound of cheering behind Admiral Crane came through even on the airship’s tiny speaker.

* * *

Captain Darrow executed a perfect landing on the Iwo Jima as thousands of cheering sailors and officers crowded the deck to welcome them home. The crowd erupted into sustained cheering as one by one the exhausted, bewildered, and relieved crew of the Peregrine descended from the front ladder and the side door over the radome. The airship stood proud on the deck, having completed what Darrow said was probably going to set the record for the longest round-trip Navy blimp flight. Captain Darrow, the last man off the ship, patted his beloved Peregrine and mouthed a silent “thank you” up at it before joining his crew as they stood on the deck and waved, blinking in the sunlight as reporters clamored to set up microphones in front of them.

At that moment, there was a sudden flash of light in the sky above the ship, and everyone instinctively looked up toward it. The corona of light surrounding the portal began to dim as the dark circle in the center lost definition and dissipated like a cloud of black smoke. In seconds, the vaporous remnants disappeared into the cloudless blue sky. The cheering started again.

Admiral Crane and Captain Richardson burst through the crowd with hands extended. They pumped hands with everyone and patted them on the back, their shouted words of encouragement lost in the noise of the cheering crowd. Discreetly in the shadow of the gondola, Sparks and Miss Abbot embraced and quickly kissed, then burst out into laughter as they joined the rest of the crew standing in the sunshine.

In the front of the crowd, a gaggle of reporters with flashing cameras and flip notebooks hurled questions at the crew, and eventually Captain Darrow and Professor Abbot came to the microphones, with Lieutenant Stewart right behind and Sparks and Miss Abbot holding hands next to him.

“What happened to the flying saucers?” “How did you stop the invasion?” “Where were you?”

Darrow raised his hand to quiet the crowd, which had some effect on the first few rows — just enough for him to be heard. “There will be plenty of time for the full story later. What’s important now is that we destroyed the energy source that created the portal just as the flying saucers were preparing to take off for their invasion.”

“How did you do it? How were you able to stop them?”

Captain Darrow quickly reached put his arm around Professor Abbot’s hip and pulled her close. “Good old-fashioned American know-how, that’s how.”

“When you found yourself on another world, what’s the first thing you said?”

Darrow bobbed his eyebrows at Professor Abbot and flashed a wicked grin. Professor Abbot’s eyes narrowed as she stared back at him.

“Professor Abbot had profound, solemn, and appropriate words for the occasion. I’ll never forget them as long as I live.”

“What did she say?”

“I’ll tell you later.” The reporters roared in disappointment.

“Are they coming back?”

Captain Darrow stepped back for Professor Abbot to take the question. “Not for a while, at least,” she responded. “We were able to destroy the antenna that generated the field.”

“What was it like?”

Professor Abbot glanced at Captain Darrow with a beaming smile. “It was an honor and a privilege to be at Captain Darrow’s side during this incredible adventure. The crew of this wonderful ship are true heroes, each and every one of them.”

Darrow leaned forward. “Professor Abbot is being too modest. Using nothing but her ingenuity and the gear we had on board, she was able to invent a weapon that can be used to activate the alien portal at will. And I understand that her invention can be made even more powerful so that it can be used directly against the saucers themselves.”

“A ray gun, captain?”

“Something like that. In any case, Professor Abbot deserves the credit for figuring it out. Otherwise we’d still be flying around in who-knows-where.”

“Do you have any words for the millions of people listening around the world, Captain?”

“Yes I do,” he said. “First of all, there’s no one I would have rather gone through this with than my crew.” He turned to face them. “I’m going to recommend some extended shore leave for you all, I think you’ve earned it.” The crew cheered and laughed as they slapped Captain Darrow’s back in appreciation.

But after a moment, Darrow turned more serious. “The unity of purpose that the alien threat created in us is something that we should never forget. We should remember to treasure what we have and who we are.” Surreptitiously, Professor Abbot slid closer to Captain Darrow as his hand reached for hers. “We have more in common with each other than differences, and we must take care of what we have because it is irreplaceable. And this is the only home we have. Thank you”

As the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, Darrow turned to shake hands and share hugs with his crew. The unflappable Stewart pulled out a stick of gum and handed it to his captain, who nodded appreciatively as he unwrapped it and put it slowly in his mouth, savoring it as if it were a cool drink of water on a blisteringly hot day. Together, they looked up at the spot in the sky where the portal had been.

“It’s pretty hard work, saving the Earth, isn’t it?”

Stewart nodded. “Kind of fun, though.”

Captain Darrow laughed as he slapped his trusted co-pilot on the back. “That it is, Stew. That it is. Whaddya say let’s do it again some time?”

* * *

And so the greatest adventure of the century came ended with a technical knockout, typed the reporter with a deep sense of satisfaction. With the crew of the Peregrine safely home and the portal closed, the collective nations and peoples of Earth could now take a moment’s pause and let the lessons begin to settle in. We are not alone in the universe, and there are those who would wrest our precious Earth from us if we but let them.

Are they coming back?

Major Dare stood waiting by the converted C-47 as Colonel Fitzhugh arrived at the airfield. He watched as she walked over to his car and opened the door.

“Good morning, Colonel. Our flight is just about fueled,” she told him.

“Why are we taking this gooney bird?” Fitzhugh asked.

“All that’s available on short notice, Colonel.”

“We could walk faster.”

“We could stand here all day and try to decide, or we could get on and least head that way,” Dare said.

Fitzhugh sighed and climbed in.

Fitzhugh looked at the interior. The leather seats looked more comfortable than any he saw on a military plane. Tables were placed between the seats to allow conferences.

“So what general gave up his flying office?” Fitzhugh asked.

“I called in a favor,” Dare answered.

A major stood at the front cabin door.

“Colonel, if you and the major would buckle up, we’ll get on our way.”

“Sure thing, Major. How long will the flight be?”

“Well, it will take about fifteen hours at normal cruising speed, plus a refuel.”

“Any way of boosting that, Major?”

“I can push it a little, Colonel, but then we’d have to make two refuels. But we’d gain about three hours, and maybe we’ll get a tailwind.”

“Do the best you can do, major, the faster the better.”

The major closed the door. Colonel Fitzhugh and Major Dare sat opposite each other and buckled up.
“I’ve arranged that there will be no flight crew. And Major Doring, the pilot, will not come through the door unannounced, so we will have complete privacy,” Major Dare said.

Fitzhugh was getting a little uncomfortable. “Because…why?”

Dare shot him a glance. “I thought you would bring me up to speed on what is going on with Von Zorm. What did you think?”

Fitzhugh chuckled. “Oh nothing. We’ll wait until we’re in the air.”

With that the right engine coughed to life, followed by the left. A voice came on the intercom.

We’re just about set to take off, be sure you’re buckled in. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to, you know, walk around.”

The plane taxied to the strip, with a revving up of the engines, Fitzhugh knew they were cleared. The plane leapt in the air and climbed. After a few minutes the plane leveled off.

“OK,” the pilot announced. “We are now at cruising altitude. You can walk around or, whatever. You can find snacks and drinks in aft cabinet. Welcome to the mile high club.”

“What does he mean by that?” Dare asked.

“Must be a pilot thing,” Fitzhugh answered, trying not to laugh.

“So, now that we are away from prying ears and eyes, Colonel, perhaps you can tell me what’s going on.”

“Pardon, Major?”

“You’ve given me the ‘official’ line. What is really going on?”

Fitzhugh unbuckled, grabbed his briefcase. He pulled out several documents. He pushed them to Dare.
“Before Von Zorm came into American custody, he was held by the Russians.”

“How did we get him, then?”

“Before the dust settled, they traded him to us for another scientist, that we though particularly useless.”

“Traded?”

“I need not tell you this is ‘For Eyes Only’ level info, Major. Before the end of the war a joint US and Soviet commission was formed to divvy up the German scientists. We traded Von Zorm for one of Von Braun’s underlings.”

“Traded? Like a baseball player?”

“Pretty much, Major. Anyway, if you look at his record, Von Zorm sounds like more like a recording clerk than a scientist.”

“Hmm,” Dare looked at his file. “Only he recorded some of the most ghastly tests ever performed on humans in history.”

“The thing is, Major, is he took those tests and tried similar methods in training animals. Do you wonder why Doberman Pinschers from Germany are fiercer than those found elsewhere?”

“Von Zorm?”

“Him and others in their field. Von Zorm was able to breed certain characteristics in certain creatures, ‘genetic engineering’ I think he calls it.”

“Sounds hideous, Colonel.”

“I wish it were not necessary, Major. I nearly lost my leg at Inchon. I saw hundreds of American casualties there. If we could have waves of specifically trained animals attack and overrun positions, then soldiers can come in a mop it all up.”

“But doesn’t all that breeding take time?”

Fitzhugh sighed. “Precisely, Major. Von Zorm is developing methods to speed up this process.”

“How can breeding be faster?”

“It can’t be. Von Zorm is combining a process that was used in the later days of the Third Reich. You know the Germans were interested in radioactive materials?”

“Yes, of course, Colonel. They wanted to beat us to the making of the atomic bomb.”

“That is the story that was leaked out, Major. It is not entirely true. There was a secret team that tried to use radiation to make the ‘Super German.’ Von Zorm was part of that team. He is recreating his work for us to make the ‘Super Attack Animal.’”

“And?”

“This whole mess about Sergeant Hutton and you came about because of a message that Von Zorm sent. He has found the perfect animal and he wishes us to see it. We are on our way to do just that.”

“How can you justify using Nazi methods, Colonel?”

“If it saves American soldiers, Major, if it saves American soldiers.”

“I’ll reserve my opinion until I see what’s going on, Colonel.”

Fitzhugh disliked Major Dare’s attitude. Still, he thought, I want to see what’s going on, too.

Fitzhugh decided to work on supply requisitions and generally shut out Dare’s continued attempts at conversations. He barely paid attention to the two stops for fuel. He packed things away when the captain announced the final approach to Nellis.

The plane was met by a staff car. Standing next to the car was a Major.

“Colonel Fitzhugh?” he asked. “My name is Al Goodman. I’m to escort you and the Major to BOQ.”

“Major,” Fitzhugh answered, “I was not planning to stay here tonight. We’re supposed to be on our way to the lab.”

“No can do, Colonel. We’re not risking any personnel out in this dessert at night. There have been odd things happening lately.”

“Odd?” Major Dare asked. “How odd?”

“Things are out at night, Major Dare. Just this morning a patrol saw a dead deer.”

“A dead deer Major! Hardly worth mentioning,” Fitzhugh said.

“Not like this, Colonel. The deer was torn up. The last time I saw something like that was in South America. I saw a pig get ripped up by piranha.”

“I’m pretty sure there are there no piranha here, Major,” Fitzhugh quipped.

“Then what was it, Colonel? Until we find out, the general said no one leaves Nellis at night. You’ll have to take it up with him, if that present a problem.”

“Maybe a fresh start in the morning will be better, Colonel,” Dare suggested.

Fitzhugh could only grunt.

“We have some grub saved for you and the Major,” Goodman said. “We’ll have breakfast and a car ready to go at 0730 hours. That being said, the sergeant has your bags loaded in the trunk. I suggest we take a ride.”

The trip to the Bachelors Officers Quarters was made in silence. Fitzhugh glared out the window, another delay, he chaffed to himself.

The ride was mercifully short. The sergeant took the bags inside leading the way. They entered the building.

Several soldiers jumped to attention. They had a meal ready and stood by a dining table. Major Goodman nodded to them.

“Colonel, Major, these men have your dinner. You each have a room. I will outside at 0730 to take you into the testing area. Goodnight.”

Without waiting for a response the major and sergeant left. The men began organizing the dinner.

Fitzhugh sat across from Major Dare.

“So, Colonel,” Dare said. “are you going to take out your anger on me?”

Fitzhugh felt annoyed, “What do you mean, Major?”

“I mean every since you found out we can’t get there tonight, you not talking.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I know what you’re not going to say.”

“Why don’t you tell me and save us both the trouble.”

“Because, Colonel, you know as well as I do we both know what is going on. Whatever tests your ex-Nazi is doing, is scaring the crap out of this base.”

Fitzhugh felt the hair rising at the back of his neck. He felt the goose bumps rising and fought against the urge to shiver. He looked at Major Candace Dare.

“Goodnight, Major,” he managed to say.

Once in a blue moon, the safest bet is on the horse with the longest odds.

* * *

The Peregrine picked up speed slowly, bucking all the way as if reluctant to respond to the firewalled throttles. But within a minute the ship was nearly at top speed and climbing toward the peak of the tower dominating the flat alien landscape — featureless except for the circular openings in the ground under which which were parked the fleets of waiting flying saucers.

“Tower dead ahead,” Lieutenant Stewart called out over the deafening roar of the twin Pratt & Whitney radials mounted on outriggers behind them.

“Please don’t say ‘dead,’” Professor Abbot said. Stewart and Captain Darrow chuckled ruefully.

“Are we going to make it?” the professor asked no one in particular. The peak was looming in the panoramic windows of the blimp’s gondola, growing closer but not descending appreciably.

“Come on, baby,” Darrow said through clenched teeth, his right hand continuing to push the throttles even though they could move no further. “A little higher.” He pulled back gently on the wheel, risking a stall. The whole ship shuddered . . .

“Half a mile to the tower!” Stewart called out.

Darrow picked up the microphone. “Stern compartment, prepare to drop!”

At the far end of the gondola, a sailor opened the rear window while three others began to roll their improvised bombs along the floor into position. “Stern compartment ready to drop, skipper!”

“One quarter mile!” called Stewart. “Do we need to back off and go around . . . “

“No!” Darrow called, playing the airship’s controls with delicacy, living up to his reputation as the Navy’s finest blimp wrangler. At what seemed like the last possible moment, the spiked peak of the tower disappeared beneath them as the ship vaulted over the top. Immediately, Darrow’s lips began moving as he silently counted down, then called into the mike, “Drop! Drop! Drop”

Out of the back of the ship, the three cylindrical depth charges plunged away. Two landed directly on the peak, the third — launched just a fraction of a second too late — bounced off and disappeared as it rolled down the steep metallic face of the tower.

“Two on, skipper!” called the senior airman in the stern compartment. “Repeat, two charges have landed on the tower.”

Stewart’s face lit up in a wide grin. Professor Abbot, standing behind Darrow, patted Darrow’s shoulder enthusiastically. “Very good. Well done.” He threw a switch. “Radar, conn. Bearing to the last known position of the portal opening.”

Staring intently at his radar scope, Sparks swung his headset’s microphone down into position. “Turn to port three-five degrees and come to one-nine-seven,” he replied immediately, then flicked a switch. “Ray gun station, radar. You ready down there?”

In the radome beneath the gondola, Miss Abbot tried to hold the bulky headset on her head. “Roger and ready wilco, Sparks!” She flashed an enthusiastic “OK” sign upwards.

Sparks chuckled as he switched back to the cockpit. “Ray gun reports ready, Skipper.”

“Okay, here we go.” He turned the ship in the direction where the strange inter-dimensional portal had deposited them on this far-away world. “Let’s hope they don’t figure out what we’re trying to do before we do it.”

“I think I should mention that there’s a strong possibility that the flying saucers are designed to respond automatically to the portal opening as their signal to take off,” said Professor Abbot.

Darrow turned slowly and elaborately to look up at the professor standing behind him. “I really wish you had told me that before now, doc.”

“I didn’t want to alarm you unnecessarily.”

Darrow looked at Stewart, his face a mask of irony. “She didn’t want to worry us. Isn’t that nice?”

Stewart shrugged, his expression inscrutable behind his aviator sunglasses. “I ain’t worried. You worried?”

“Nooooo,” Darrow said. “Not worried at all. In fact, I feel a whole lot better now knowing what you just said, perfesser.”

Professor Abbot slapped Darrow lightly on the back of his head. “Just steer, fly-boy.”

“That’s Captain fly-boy to you now, just for that.”

The radio crackled. “Skipper, Sparks here. We’re approaching the location of the portal opening. The tower is directly astern.”

“Roger that, Sparks.” All three of them took a collective deep breath. “Fire the ray gun.”

At the radar console, Sparks clutched the side of his control station in a white-knuckle grip. “Aye aye, skipper!” Click. “Okay Claudine, I mean ray gun station, stand by for firing!”

In the radome, Miss Abbot made sure the makeshift cannon was pointed through the opening drilled into the back of the bulkhead, and then backed away hastily. “Okay, Sparks, fire!”

“Okay, here goes!” Sparks squeezed his eyes shut and began tapping out the sequence that Professor Abbot had decoded from the hieroglyphs on the walls deep inside the tower.

Miss Abbot hid her face as bright pulses of light shot out from the radar’s waveguide and out into the sky behind them.

“Did it work?” Sparks called.

“The ray gun fired! It works! Sparks, tell my mom it works!”

“Okay, but did it hit the tower?”

“I can’t tell! Can anyone see anything?”

“Stern compartment, Sparks here. Could you tell if the ray gun beam hit the tower?”

“Roger, Sparks,” said the airman. “Bullseye on the first shot. The spikes glowed when the beam hit them.”

Sparks called the control room. “Hit, sir. Do you see anything?”

Darrow and Stewart looked around and up. “Nothing, Sparks. Should we try again?”

“Yes sir, we’re nearly on top of the spot. It’s this time or we go around again.”

“I don’t think we’ll have time for that,” said Professor Abbot, the smile of pride at the success of her invention wearing off suddenly. “Look!” She pointed to the iris-like openings above the underground flying saucer pens. The saucers were beginning to levitate out of the ground and into the air, jerkily and swaying ever so slightly.

“Sometimes I really hate it when I’m right,” Professor Abbot said.

“Yeah,” Darrow said, taking in the sight below them. “Me too.”

Still, the portal did not appear. “Perhaps we should fire again, Rick.”

Darrow nodded and called Sparks. “Fire again!”

“Ready to fire again!” Sparks called to Miss Abbot.

“Ready down here!”

“Firing!” This time Sparks stared intently at his Morse transmitter key, willing the ray gun to work this time.

Another series of pencil-thin bursts of light emerged from the radome and hit the antenna spires at the top of the tower, causing them to glow more fiercely. And suddenly, in front of the Peregrine, a dark circle appeared and began to expand rapidly.

“There it is!” Darrow and Professor Abbot shouted in unison. The hole opening up before them was only a few hundred yards ahead of them. If the second shot had missed, they would have flown right past it — and missed their only escape because not even Darrow could coax the bulbous mass of the Peregrine around fast enough for a second try before the saucers arrived. Speaking of which . . .

“Conn, radar! The flying saucers are picking up speed and heading right for us!”

“They’ll probably fly right past us like they did last time,” the professor said. “They’ve already assessed that we’re not a threat.”

“We’ve got to get in there before they do, or they’ll destroy every living thing on Earth!” Darrow spoke into his mike. “Stern! Stand by to detonate the bombs!”

Professor Abbot leaned in close to Darrow. “We have to wait until we cross the portal threshold before we detonate them, Rick.”

“If they’re going to beat us to it, then it’s our only chance to close the portal before they can make it to Earth.”

Below and behind the Peregrine, hundreds of flying saucers were climbing quickly toward the portal opening — closing the distance with increasing speed. The portal began to swell to enormous dimensions as it prepared to engulf the invading force and send it on its way to Earth.

“Fifty yards to the portal!” Sparks called from the radar station, where his face was almost pressed to the screen. Behind him, Miss Abbot climbed up from the radome to join him. “Saucers less than a mile and closing very fast!” They exchanged worried looks.

Suddenly, in the cockpit the view out the windows disappeared as the ship crossed the threshold into the black night of the portal’s interior.

“Stern compartment! Detonate the bombs! Detonate now!”

“Aye, sir!” the call came back.

Back at the tower, two large explosions shook the antennas, and one by one they toppled slowly down the nearly-vertical flanks of the tower. High above the tower, the portal immediately began to shrink as the fleet of flying saucers raced to reach it in time. But it winked closed just a fraction of a second before the first wave of saucers reached it, and they flew right harmlessly right past the spot and kept on going.

As the last of the saucers sped by, there was nothing about the nondescript patch of sky to indicate that, just moments before, the Peregrine had at last embarked for home. Below, the last of the antenna fragments reached the base of the tower and settled amid clouds of dust.

All was silent on the alien world, now forever cut off from its umbilical of death. But what of the ship and crew now trapped deep inside that cosmic tunnel, spiraling lost through space and time?

* * *

Thanks to the courage of Captain Darrow and the crew of the Peregrine, the final invasion of Earth has been thwarted just in time! But will they survive and make it home to Mother Earth? You won’t want to miss the thrilling final chapter — yes, you read that right — of The Terror from the Other Dimension!

Colonel Fitzhugh returned to work. The events of the previous day did not proceed as he hoped. His sergeant was sent for training at Warrant Officer School in Arizona. His replacement, a WAC Major named Candace Dare, was temporarily assigned to him, until the return of Sergeant Hutton.

Fitzhugh needed to get some sort of organization before the major showed up and “helped.” He made his way across the parking lot in the pre-dawn darkness. His limp was more pronounced; he slept little and returned early to work. Something was up with Dr. von Zorm’s experiments.

He opened the outer door to his office.

Major Candace Dare quickly leapt to attention. “Colonel Fitzhugh, I didn’t expect you for another hour at least.”

“Good morning, Major,” He replied. “I see you are trying to organize things.”

“Yes, sir. Trying is a good word. It seems the good sergeant hadn’t a clue.”

Colonel Fitzhugh chuckled as he removed his overcoat. “Wait until you see my office, Major.”

Fitzhugh opened the door and froze.

“I’m sorry, Colonel. I though I would tackle that first.”

“Holy Seven Stars Major, how am I going to find anything?”

“A lot easier than your ‘sedimentary’ filing system, I assure you.”

Fitzhugh seethed. “I do not understand why they needed to stick me with a whacko WAC. What mortal sin did I commit to fall in this hell?”

“Perhaps it had something to do with threatening to kill your sergeant, Colonel. As far as babysitting you, I’m not exactly thrilled, either. This will do no good for my career path, you know.”

“A WAC major with a career path? You mean, other than tricking a general into marrying you?”

Fitzhugh watched the rage cross Candace Dare’s face. He watched as she recovered quickly and smiled. “Perhaps you should have a seat, Colonel. I would like to tell you about reality.”

“Reality? What would a WAC know about reality? How many operations were you on? How many men did you kill in combat, Major?”

“Eighty-five, Colonel. Maybe a dozen more, but eighty-five confirmed. Perhaps you should read my file. It’s on your desk in the red folder, I’ll check with you later.”

Fitzhugh sighed as the door closed. I guess asking for a cup of coffee would be pointless, he thought. He picked up the file.

Fitzhugh was fascinated. Candace Dare graduated as a nurse in May of 1940. She went to spend the summer with her aunt in France before reporting to the U.S. Army as a lieutenant at the hospital in Fort Meade, Maryland.

While she was in France, the Germans showed up.

She spent the next four years fighting in the French Underground. She was invaluable to the French, both as a fighter and a healer. She saved several of their leaders from certain death, as well as dealing it out herself. She did have eighty-five kills to her name. Her last assignment with the French was at the Battle of the Bulge. She helped rig a fuel depot to explode before the Germans could capture it.

Most of her comrades were killed; she suffered third degree burns on her right arm, which left severe scarring. The advancing US Army rescued her and debriefed her. She spent time working with the OSS as an American liaison. Her AWOL status was revoked and she was sworn in as a captain. The files listed all her awards, both American and French.

He hit the intercom button. “Major, I need to see you.”

The door opened, Major Dare stopped at the desk, three feet away, standing at attention. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“It says here, Major, that you have earned an “expert” level on your Combat Infantry Badge. Yet, I don’t see you wearing one.”

“Colonel, General Harrison requested I not wear the CIB while I was in crypto. Apparently, it made the REMF’s nervous.”

Colonel Fitzhugh chuckled at the major’s use of the acronym for “Real Echelon Mother F***ers.” Not at all becoming for a lady, he thought.
“While you are I my command, as small as it may be, I would require you to wear your full uniform.”

Fitzhugh noticed Dare’s expression. Her stance picked up and she had a slight smile. “Yes, sir.”

“If the general has a problem, refer him to me,” Fitzhugh said. “Sit down, major.”

Dare took a seat in front of the desk.

“What do know about Von Zorm’s work out in Nevada?”

“Well Colonel, I know that he is trying to train or program attack animals to bear the brunt of any beach assaults we might have in the future.”

“Go on.”

“Von Zorm has not had success with animals such as dogs or larger cat-type animals. I think he has turned to some species of the rodent family.”

“His last report states that he is meeting with some success, major. We should go out there and see for ourselves. Can you make the arrangements?’

Major Dare stood. “Of course, sir. I will see to it at once.” She started to rise.

Fitzhugh waived her back in her chair. “Major, you need to be straight with me.”

“Sir?”

“Why did they really send you? Why not another sergeant, or even a civilian?”

Major Dare sighed.

“Major, if we are to work together we need to be on the same page.”

“Colonel, don’t get me wrong, but I know what they had in mind.”

“And…?”

“I think they think that you’re starting to crack.”

Fitzhugh sat back and smiled. “Good. Because Major, sitting here in this Pimple on the Potomac is making me nuts. I’ve always been a field type. Please get us an early bird out west so we can do best what we do best.”

Major Dare stood up and smiled, “Yes sir!”

“And after that, go home and get some rest. It will be a long day tomorrow.”

* * *

In the engine compartment amidships, Sparks and Miss Abbot were preparing to descend into the cavernous radome beneath the airship’s gondola. Miss Abbot’s bulky safety harness was several sizes too big for her petite frame, and Sparks was becoming flustered — and embarrassed — as he tried to cinch it tighter. With every jolt of the belt, Claudine’s smile grew.

“You’re tickling me.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry!”

“I didn’t say stop, did I?”

At that moment, Captain Darrow and Professor Abbot, Claudine’s mother, stepped into the compartment. “About ready, Sparks?”

“Just about there, Captain,” Sparks replied, giving Miss Abbot’s harness one last tug, nearly lifting her off her feet. “We wouldn’t want our guest to go flying away, would we?”

“Why do they need safety harnesses?” asked Professor Darrow.

“So that they don’t fall through the bottom of the radome. The sides and top are pretty solid, but to save weight the bottom is made of fabric. You can have two people in there, but they can’t be any closer than an arm’s length to each other or the fabric will tear and . . . ” Darrow pointed down ” . . . out they go.”

Professor Abbot’s face blanched. “Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea after all.”

“Oh, mother,” Miss Abbot interjected. “We’re talking about the weight of two fully-grown men. I’m hardly going to put a dent in it.”

“Exactly, Professor,” Sparks chimed in. “It’ll feel just like walking on a trampoline.”

Professor Abbot sighed, then put her arm on her daughter’s shoulder. “Just make sure you don’t start jumping up and down.”

“And no spike heels,” Captain Darrow added with a wink.

Spike patted the tool belt around his waist and picked up his trusty duffel bag of gear. “All set, then?”

After the briefest of hesitations, Miss Abbot nodded bravely.

Sparks bent down and opened the floor hatch into the radome. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing grandly to the spindly ladder below the hatch. Miss Abbot sat down, dangling her legs into the hatch until she found the ladder. “That’s right,” Sparks guided her. Now put your other foot . . . good. Now your hand . . . you’ve got it.” Miss Abbot slowly descended into the radome and, when she reached the bottom, she held up her hands for Sparks’ bag.

Then Sparks knelt and began to climb down. When he was almost all in, he threw a jaunty salute. “Be right back, Skipper! And remember not to turn the radar on while we’re down there, or we’ll have a grand old time trying to stay one step ahead of that antenna!”

“Will do, Sparks.” Darrow tapped his cap in return. “Good luck in there.” As Sparks disappeared down into the radome, Darrow nodded to the two sailors who would be keeping an eye on them as they worked. “Keep us posted.”

The men saluted. “Aye, Skipper.”

Darrow guided Professor Abbot forward. “Now let’s see how your little land mines are coming along, shall we?”

* * *

“Wow, this is amazing!” Miss Abbot’s voice echoed off the curved walls of the radome. Beneath her feet, light filtered up through the springy fabric floor, bathing the whole chamber in a weak, almost ethereal light. It felt like she was standing in the middle of a giant mushroom cap. “I feel like a gnome!”

“A gnome?” Sparks called back from the other side of the radome.

“Don’t gnomes live in toadstools?”

“Under, not inside.”

“Oh, right.”

“Come on, let’s get to work.” They had very little time left to modify the radar’s waveguide, the precisely shaped channel connecting the radar transmitter to the giant antenna at the center of the radome. Shaped like the peel of a gigantic orange slice, the antenna would normally be rotating inside the dome to detect reflected radar signals. Now, it was still.

Sparks blew a low whistle as he looked at the antenna equipment. “Do you really think we can reconfigure the waveguide to act as a ray gun barrel?”

“Mother’s theory is sound,” Miss Abbot said without hesitation. “As long as we keep the antenna still and point the ship in the proper direction, the signal should be strong enough to trigger the tower’s receiver and open the portal.”

“But if I’m understanding right, the beam will be very narrow, like a pencil. That’s going to take some might fine aiming.”

“We’ll align the antenna manually so that it’s pointing straight back and several degrees down so that it’s aiming through the fabric floor. That way, we can fire it while we’re flying toward the portal and climbing to reach it. Assuming, of course, it opens at the same position as last time, when we flew through it to get here. Otherwise . . .”

Sparks broke the awkward silence. “Hey, won’t we need to cut a hole in the radome for the beam to pass through?”

“Yes, once we get this built. When it comes time to fire, I’ll stay here and make sure the beam is aligned correctly. You will have to fire it from your radar control console up there.” She pointed overhead.

“Wait a minute,” Sparks said, putting down his wrench. “I’m not going to leave you down here all alone with a ray gun. We don’t know what will happen! Why, it could . . . it could . . . “

Miss Abbot’s confident chuckle sounded more like her mother’s. “Don’t worry, Sparks. I’m used to handling dangerous equipment. Speaking of which, hand me that soldering iron, will you?”

* * *

Professor Abbot thought that the Peregrine’s depth charges looked like scaled-down 55-gallon drums, painted gray and with an assortment of fins and guide vanes at the base. A team of six sailors were working frantically to convert three of them into radio-controlled mines.

“Before, when it looked like we had plenty of time, I figured we could lower each charge down to the tower using our winch in the back of the ship,” Captain Darrow explained to Professor Abbot as they watched the men work. “Now, we won’t be able to do that. But I have another idea.”

“What?”

“You ever see footage of depth charges being dropped off the back of destroyers in World War II?”

Professor Abbot nodded.

“Well, I say we pass over the top of the tower, slow down, and roll these little babies right off the weapons platform at the stern.”

“Will that work?”

Darrow shrugged. “Sure, why not? These things are designed to fall a few hundred feet and smack into the sea at full speed without breaking up, so what’s a couple dozen feet onto concrete, or whatever that tower is made of? The radio receivers we’re putting in are cannibalized from our sonobuoys. They’re dead simple and rugged as all get-out. Then once we drop the charges we gun the engines and point the nose at where the portal is supposed to appear, climb like a banshee, fire the ray gun, and just before we enter the portal we push the detonator and blow up the tower. Piece of cake.”

Professor Abbot looked skeptically at Darrow. “Piece of cake, huh?”

“Sure!” Darrow feigned bravado. “What could possibly go wrong?” He immediately put his finger to the professor’s lips as she took a deep breath to list the possibilities. “Don’t answer that, doc.” She smiled instead.

One of the sailors stepped over to Captain Darrow and saluted. “They’re all set, sir.”

“Well done. Get them ready to roll.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Come on, let’s go see how Sparks and your daughter are getting along.”

“Like a house on fire,” Professor Abbot said with a laugh as she stepped through the hatch.

“I know the feeling,” Darrow muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, doc. Right behind you.”

The professor and Darrow arrived in the engine compartment just as Sparks was climbing back up. “We’re all set down there, captain. The waveguide is configured, the antenna is aligned, and we have a nice little hole to shoot through. Bullseye, tower.” Sparks mimed aiming and firing a rifle. “And don’t worry, professor, your daughter will be safe down there.” Sparks gave a reassuring wink as he unbuckled his harness.

“Thanks, Sparks,” she said, patting him on the shoulder as he took his seat at the radar control station. “The transmitter is hooked up to this Morse code transmitter key,” he said, pointing. “I have the exact sequence and duration written down here. I’ll tap out the signal when you give the word.” He donned his headset.

Darrow nodded. “Well done, Sparks. Good luck to us all.” He and Professor Abbot continued their way forward to the front of the gondola, where Lieutenant Stewart was flying the ship. “How’s it handling, Stew?”

“Great, Skipper. Everything’s ready to go.”

“How are our friends?” Darrow nodded to the opened underground hangars where countless flying saucers lay waiting.

“So far, pretty quiet, I’d say. I have this creepy feeling that they’re all just waiting for us to make our move.”

Darrow slid into his pilot’s chair. “Well then, what do you say we give them something to do?”

Stewart nodded. “Sounds like a plan, Skipper.”

Darrow reached up to remove his microphone from the rack, and took a deep breath before switching it on. “Attention all hands,” he began. All over the ship, the crew paused in their urgent tasks long enough to listen to their captain’s words. None of them had any illusions about the task that lay before them. “As you know, we are about to carry out a mission that is more vital, more consequential, than anything we have ever attempted before. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that our mission is perhaps the most important mission we will ever undertake. Nothing less than the fate of the world, the future of the human race, hangs in the balance. I know that each one of you will do his duty, and do it well. That’s why I picked you, and that’s why I’m proud to be leading you on this mission. Let’s do the Navy proud, gentlemen. And ladies.” He patted Professor Abbot’s hand, which was resting on his shoulder. “Let’s win this one for good old Mother Earth.” Darrow clicked off.

Stewart ceremoniously handed Darrow and Professor Abbot each a stick of gum. They carefully unwrapped them and began to chew slowly, almost meditatively as they contemplated what lay ahead.

Standing behind the pilot’s chair, Professor Darrow leaned close to Darrow. “Piece of cake?” she whispered in his ear.

Darrow firewalled the throttles and pulled back on the wheel, nodding sideways in determination. “Piece o’ cake.”

* * *

The final countdown has begun! The Peregrine is off on its race against the alien invasion fleet — but will the plucky crew be able to execute their dangerous plan in time? And if so, will they be able to find their way home again? There’s only one way to find out — and that’s by staying tuned for the climactic next installment of The Terror from the Other Dimension!