The New Alien Invasion Story

Quick Character Profiles

Major Power (secretly private detective Iollan Blake) was the first mystery hero to achieve widespread fame, in 1940, and certainly one of the most powerful. Zenith (Victoria Waltyngfeld, currently an actress, director and Broadway playwright) received her powers in 1946 and didn't actually begin her career as a mystery heroine for another 10 years, and is also considered among the most powerful. Both heroes live in New York, and though they have met each other 'professionally', neither knows the secret identity of the other.

That Afternoon, In New York City

Victoria Waltyngfeld had never been happier in her life. Today she was opening a play as the female lead, a play she had written, and life seemed to get better every day. And she had a signed contract to direct another play, also written by her, after this one closed. As well, her confidence in herself seemed to grow every day, and, to top it off, by simply saying her magic words, she could change into her secret identity of Zenith, one of the most powerful woman in the world.

She knew she was attractive as Lily, but she absolutely loved the powerful and exotic form of Zenith, when she stood six-feet six, with a long mane of black hair, powerfully built, with perfect features and a third eye in the middle of her forehead. Here attire was just as stunning — a tight black top with sheer black long sleeves, red decoration on the scoop neck and wrists, slightly longer than the waist, over red salvar pantaloons with black floral patterns, open toe sandals with black and red straps and tall wedges. She was proud that she wielded the awesome power of the First Temple in the cause of right.

And tonight she was celebrating with late lunch in the world-famous Tavern on the Green in Central Park with her leading man, Kirk Logan. She burst out laughing, drawing startled glances from the other diners and an affectionate smile from Kirk. Kirk was also feeling good - he'd been pursuing Vicki through the weeks of rehearsals and he was feeling like tonight might be his lucky night.





The giant saucer, almost as big as Yankee Stadium, continued to settle slowly toward Central Park. “There are people still in the park! I have to help!” Major Power vowed in his mind as he flew upward at his best acceleration. He considered trying to clear the park, but even at his top speed, he wouldn't be able to get more than a few people out from under this giant. He would have to try to lift it. It was as big as a mountain peak - but his patron Aduadu was the spirit of the Agumatsa Mountain Range and his own powers were the powers of the mountains themselves. He would try.




The bedrock around him had actually melted due to the energy of his impact, then cooled off again quickly, and he was lying in a skintight, form-fitted abscess in the bedrock. Straining, he brought his arms down to his waist, shattering the stone around him. Then he forced one arm back up above his head. He used the other arm to start spinning his body, driving handholds into the cooled magma, and then, combining his powers of strength, speed, and flight, he drove forward, spinning ever faster, like an invulnerable human drill bit. A minute later, he judged he had gone far enough, and he angled upward, and then he was free.


It must have been a trap all along. Hours later, from one of the police reports, he realized that at least one person had been targeted by the attack - an actress named Victoria Waltyngfeld. But why?

For a list of chapters:

Quick Character Profiles

Cody Mason, Bonnie Marlow Mason, and Tomas Thomas fight crime in their civilian jobs as MTM Detectives, Chicago's best detective agency. Cody and Tomas also team up as the mystery villains Red Rocket and Tom Atomic, and the often work with Bonnie in her Adventuring mystery heroine identity. The Volunteer was one of the original mystery heroes who formed the Alliance of Mystery Heroes during World War II and he is now retired.














“Well… I need some investigation done, of course — but I need it to be kept quiet as well.” He gave them the whole story.























Red Rocket was a superior hand-to-hand combatant — a collegiate boxing champion and highly skilled master of the martial arts skills originally taught to him by the Volunteer — but without his powered weapons and his ability to fly, he had no chance against so many alien robots. They swarmed over him, and soon his defenses were overwhelmed, and he was battered into unconsciousness.

For a list of chapters:

Quick Character Profile

Valerie Coppersmith is an ambitious young lady who has used her minor mystical talents to assist the St. Louis police in resolving several kidnapping and missing persons cases.


Early the next morning, in St. Louis, Missouri, Valerie Coppersmith kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the radio knob of her cherry-red and white 1959 Corvette convertible. Even with the top up, the cold winter wind tugged on her long, black hair, a trait that, despite her darker complexion, made some of her friends compare her to Morticia from Charles Addams’ cartoons in The New Yorker. As she headed northwest on Natural Bridge Road, music began to blare from speakers, so she spun the knob until she found another news broadcast.

“–ncisco, Phoenix, New York City, and Chicago report encounters with what appears to be alien spacecraft. In all instances, the aliens have been repelled after facing either the military or costumed mystery heroes. Officials are telling us that military bases all across the nation are on high alert.

“Hold on a second. We’ve got some breaking news coming in.” A pause. “It appears that one of the alien vessels has been spotted in the skies over St. Louis. We have been told that the 131st Tactical Fighter Wing of the Missouri Air National Guard has managed to get a few jets into the air.”

Valerie looked up and spotted the flying saucer. “Looks like the oh-so-rich and even-more-generous Mrs. Riverdayle is going to have to wait for her fortune. It looks like the thing is heading for Lambert Field.” She tromped down hard on the gas, never even questioning her impulse to help... for free!

A few blocks later, Valerie made a turn and was heading north on Florissant Road. Vehicles were streaming toward her, away from the airport, and it wasn’t until she turned west onto Airport Road that she saw why. The police had set up a roadblock barring admittance to the airfield.

She hit the brakes and slid to a stop on the snow-covered road several yards from the police cars. One of the officers approached her vehicle, urging her to turn around and go to a safer location.

“If this really is an invasion,” Valerie asked, “how do I know that anywhere is safer than where I am? I need to get to the airport.”

The officer looked down at the girl in the multi-colored, multi-layered skirt and low cut white peasant blouse for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, Miss. You’re going to have to turn around.”

Valerie’s first instinct was to let the man know he was talking to someone important. After all, she was the one the police came to when they needed help. She was the one who had solved a half a dozen high-profile kidnapping and missing persons cases that the police had given up on. Unfortunately, this was not the time. Her intuition told her that lives would soon be in danger, and some of her more unique talents might be of some help. She flashed the officer a smile and put her car into reverse. As she turned around, there was no mistaking the sound of an explosion coming from the airfield.

Valerie peeled out and headed back east until she spotted the turn off for Hanley Road. She had only gone a half a mile when she found what she had been looking for, an old dirt road that wasn’t listed on any of the maps. It had been years since she had been here; the last time was when she was a child.

Two and a half decades ago, her family had just arrived in the area as immigrants from Eastern Europe. Her Romany grandparents — people still called them Gypsies, even in this day and age — had camped here for almost a month before developers ran them off. Her father grew up and got a job, met her mother, also a Romany immigrant, and had settled down. Her grandparents had moved in with the newlyweds, and, almost a year later, she was born. When she was old enough to remember, her father and grandfather had brought her out to show her where they used to live.

After driving for a couple minutes, Valerie pulled to the side of the gravel road. Before turning off the engine she put the top down, since she feared that the white top might make the car more noticeable. Climbing out of the car, she headed for the field, and almost immediately stumbled into a ditch that hadn’t been there years ago. There was something unusual sticking out through the clay on one side of the ditch, no doubt uncovered by the recent rain that had melted some of the snow. Her intuition warned her not to ignore it.


Picking up the bag, she examined it. “Where in the world did you come from?” It was made of heavy, dark blue cloth, about the size of a coconut, covered with magical symbols, and had leather drawstrings. 'Very “Romish” — a perfect addition to the image!' she thought triumphantly.

Valerie opened the bag and looked inside. It was empty, or at least it appeared to be. Reaching inside, she discovered that it was much deeper than it seemed. The fact that the thing was magical didn’t really surprise her. She was no stranger to what those in the know referred to as 'the Arts'. She had a few mystical abilities herself. She could affect emotions, and could manipulate mechanical objects at a fairly close range. She also had a collection of scrolls, but she had neither the time, nor the patience, to spend figuring them out. In all the time she had spent studying them, she had only figured out how to cast a few spells. If she was going to deal with magic, this was how it should be done — with as much ease as possible.

“I don’t know where you came from,” she told the bag a bit petulantly, “but it would have been nice if you actually held something that could help me against the aliens. Something that could get me onto the airfield unseen would have been nice.”

Valerie’s eyes grew wide as something was pressed into her hand, deep inside the bag. She pulled her hand from the bag. Opening it up, she found a small ring that seemed a perfect fit for her pinkie. She slid it on and felt her body begin to tingle. Leaning into the car, she looked into her rear-view mirror. There was no reflection. She started to pull the ring off when she sensed that she should leave it on. A strong wave of intuition swept her: she was certain that if she removed the ring, its magic would be lost to her. She had other talismans of power that she wore regularly, most of which appeared to be nothing more than the costume jewelry that completed the Gypsy look she used when dealing with her rich clients, but none of them had ever given her this feeling. “All right,” she said to herself, “let’s go see if we can’t do something about those aliens.”

As she started toward the airfield, she saw a plume of black smoke rising into the air. There was a second explosion, and a second plume. Even from here, she could hear the sirens going off.

Five minutes later, Valerie was crossing an open field that bordered one of the runways. She made footprints in the snow as she crossed the runway, her eyes constantly scanning the skies, searching for the spaceship. A growing rumble drew her attention to the south. It wasn’t the sound one would expect a spacecraft to make, but then again, she hardly believed she would be hearing the musical whistling that accompanied those she had seen at the theater. She continued moving until she reached one of the airfield’s gray, arch-shaped hangars. She raced along the outside wall until she reached the other end. As she rounded the corner, she saw the spacecraft already touching down. It resembled a silver basting cover, polished to a mirror finish, complete with a spherical handle set in the center, set over a shallow bowl of the same polished silver; a saucer she would have recognized if she'd been in Chicago a few hours earlier.

On the runway, two jets were burning out of control. She saw no signs of the pilots; hopefully, they were already somewhere safe.

Valerie was about to cross the tarmac when the rumbling became deafening. She looked up and saw four of the 131st’s F-84F Thunderstreaks soar overhead. In a heartbeat, they were a mile away and splitting up the formation. Each jet performed a banking maneuver that was as graceful as any ballerina, and was quickly moving to make another pass over the airfield. She was halfway between the hangar and the spacecraft when the first of the fighters began a strafing run. She could hear what sounded like someone pounding on a bucketful of water as the bullets struck an invisible shield surrounding the ship.

One of the amulets she wore around her neck was supposed to offer her some protection from gunfire, but she wasn’t certain if it would protect her from what was starting to rain down from the sky. Her mind began to race.

“How could they be so careless as to shoot when there are people - meaning ME - still in the area?” she cried out as she continued to run. She had only taken a couple of steps when she realized the pilots were firing because they didn’t know she was there. “Time to become visible.”

Valerie removed the ring from her pinkie. It turned to ash and crumbled into nothing. That confirmed the intuition that had told her to keep wearing it until she didn't need it any longer.

Overhead, one of the pilots had seen her sudden appearance and was alerting the others. The group leader immediately contacted his home base and reported this new development.

“Maybe this is a mystery hero coming out of the woodwork to help repel the aliens,” was the reply he received. “Save the taxpayers a few bucks, and see what she can do. The minute that thing takes to the air, however, you know what to do.”

“Roger,” the pilot acknowledged. Since everyone heard their new orders, they withdrew from the immediate area and allowed the newcomer to take her shot.

Valerie was thankful for the reprieve. “Now, if I could just figure out what the aliens are after.” Before she could formulate a plan, she was surprised to see the air around one section of the spaceship shimmer and a panel slide open. That wasn’t the only thing that surprised her. Two small creatures emerged. Their skin was dolphin-gray, and they had two large black eyes that set in shallow recesses in their oversized heads. Long, spider-like fingers wrapped around the handles of what could only be guns of some sort. They moved with purpose into a nearby hangar.

While they were inside, Valerie spotted a group of soldiers rushing toward her. She waved her arms to draw their attention. One of the men pointed back, and they started toward her. She realized that, to reach her, they would have to pass by the opening of the hangar where the aliens were. She directed their attention toward the hangar, holding up two fingers to let them know how many aliens were inside. She also pointed her fingers at the soldiers like a gun to let them know the aliens were armed. The soldiers nodded and took up position near the hangar door.

Turning her attention back to the spaceship, Valerie decided there was nothing for her to do but get aboard and see what she could find. As she started toward the opening, the sound of gunfire erupted behind her. She glanced back in time to see one of the soldiers fall, a large hole burnt completely through him. The aliens were down an instant later. Valerie had to choke down the bile that rose in her throat. She knew there was nothing she could do for the soldier, but she could see if there was some way to prevent it from happening to anyone else.


She was halfway down the corridor when the ship lurched violently to one side, throwing her off-balance and in through an opening in the wall. The sounds that she could hear reverberating through the ship let her know that the Thunderstreaks were attacking with everything they had. She could only hope that the force-field she had witnessed while she was outside did its job now that she was inside.

“Sounds like we’re in a bit of a pickle.”

Valerie looked up from where she had fallen the instant she heard the voice — a human voice.

A man was hanging from the wall. Shackles built into the bulkhead held him firmly in place. He was a handsome man by anyone’s standards, whose strawberry blond hair was tousled, a sign that he had put up a fight when he was captured. He had the build of an acrobat and was clothed in a skintight jumpsuit of an unknown red material. A mischievous grin highlighted his boyish freckled face.

Valerie thought for a second, then began to recite the words to one of the few other spells she knew. There was an audible click as the shackles separated and began to recede into the wall. The man fell into her outstretched arms.


“Sure you are,” Valerie replied, somewhat skeptically, “and you can call me… Majique.”

“Sounds good to me.”

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Two's Company. Three's a Team Up!

Using the dagger that Val had strapped to her ankle, Red Rocket was able to pry the chains loose from the wall, gaining two vicious weapons in the process. The crouched near the door, ready to ambush anyone, or anything, that came through, as they exchanged information.

"I understand that you locate missing people for the police using psychic powers?" he asked her quietly.

"That's correct," she answered shortly, prepared to defend herself. At this point, many people accused her of being a fraud. She'd had to give away some freebies in the beginning to convince the police she was reliable, but now they paid her as a 'consultant' on missing persons cases without questions - and she'd always been successful. She wasn't going to take any crap from someone who knew nothing about her.

"How does that work?" The question surprised her, as did the follow ups. He clearly wasn't skeptical - and just as clearly, had some familiarity with mystic processes. "Are you able to sense the thoughts of people around you, and you just sift through minds until you find the right one? Can you read minds?"

"I don't read minds," she denied. "I usually require some personal item of the missing purpose, and by concentrating on it, I build up a mental image of that person. And if I hold that image in my mind, eventually I'll know which direction that person is in - and how far away."

"Can you sense other people too? Can you sense any other minds around us now?"

She concentrated, and within a few seconds she reported, “I can sense at least one person — but I don't seem to be able to sense the bug-eyed monsters. That way.” She pointed.

“There were several hundred robots in Chicago,” he mentioned.

“If I could sense any robots, I would have said so.” She was a little testy, as she’d already told him her power sensed living things.

He held both hands up to fend off the argument and smiled. “Let’s get moving!”

They cautiously opened the door to the next room down the corridor, and inside there were two low tables, several cabinets and workbenches, and a lot of unknown equipment. One of the tables was covered with a pile of clothes, and on the other was a motionless human — a black man wearing only underwear. The light in the room was an unusual blue color. As soon as she realized the man was breathing, Majique rushed into the room. Rocket grabbed her arm to stop her, but she twisted free.

'Good technique in breaking my grip!' he thought fleetingly as she got a step into the room and then collapsed to the floor.

Some cautious experimentation proved to Cody that he had better not enter that room too. He squatted by the door, leaned away from it, and stuck his hand into the room — only to wake up lying on his back, having tumbled away from the danger as planned after the blue light in the room knocked him out. He couldn’t enter, and she was too far for him to lasso her with his chains. He was going to have to go on alone.

The next room was a control room, with a window looking into the blue-lit room. On a table, along with some other equipment, was his battle-suit. Before putting it on, he examined it closely — something had caused the power drain that had allowed him to be captured, and indeed, he found that 'something'. It looked like a flat artificial spider, squashed flat against the lower back of his costume, with legs outstretched and digging into the material, locking it in place.

'Must not be metallic, or my force-field would have kept it away,' he thought to himself as he carefully inspected the device. He stretched the upper-half of the suit out on the floor and smashed the device with his chains, then donned his boots and ground the remaining pieces to dust. The built-in system diagnostics showed that his systems were back to normal and the disks that absorbed stellar energy to power his gear were already recharging the batteries. 'Have to watch out for more of those things!' he warned himself as he finished suiting up.

Red Rocket finished his inspection of the control room. The general appearance was of something hastily thrown together, not the shining perfection he’d expected from watching the many alien spacecraft depicted in various science-fiction films. He paid particular attention to the rat's nest of cables and bundles of wires behind the various cabinets of controls. He assumed the thickest cable would be carrying power, and his electromagnetic sensors confirmed the presence of a powerful electromagnetic field around that cable. His disintegrator flashed, and both rooms went dark. Cody turned on his floodlight at very low power, and used the disintegrator to slice through the window. He could detect no power in the next room, where Magique and the unconscious man were lying.

Majique began to sit up. “Geez, I have an awful headache!” she complained.

“Be glad you’re alive!” he replied. “You know what they say — ‘only fools rush in’!” As he was helping her to her feet, they heard a moan — the unknown captive started stirring. They rushed to his side.

His eyes opened, and his head snapped around — and then he moaned in pain, and he moved his hands to his head. “$#!*, that hurts!” More slowly, he looked around again. “I guess it means I’m alive, though. You’re Red Rocket, aren’t you? Are you the rescue team?”

He started to sit up, and Rocket and Majique helped him. “Thanks!” He was breathing deliberate, long deep breaths.

“Not exactly a rescue. We were captured, too, so it’s more like an escape team," Rocket noted ruefully. "Not feeling too well, eh?”

“Terrible headache!” he agreed. It seemed to be painful for him to talk, and he continued his deep breathing.

“I have a pretty bad headache, too,” Majique said. “Must be some side-effect of whatever knocked us out.”

“It reminds me of sleep apnea,” he told her. “Whatever knocked us out caused us to have problems breathing, and there was a buildup of carbon dioxide in our blood. Breathe deep, and as soon as the CO2 gets flushed, you’ll feel better.” Majique looked dubious, while the unknown man continued to breathe deeply.

“Who are you, by the way?” the man asked Majique.

“Umm… you can call me Majique.”

“Oh, that fortune teller from St. Louis...” She bristled, before he continued. “...who’s solved so many ‘impossible’ cases for the St. Louis Police. Heard good things about you — nice to meet you. Never heard you were such a fox, though.” That mollified her somewhat.

“And just who are you?” she demanded.

“Hold on a second.” He hopped off the table, swayed a little bit, then regained his balance. Moving carefully to the table that was piled with clothing, he started pulling on an obviously expensive burnt orange business suit. “You can call me Oxide. I’m from Steel City, and just getting started in the mystery hero game. Never expected to get caught up in a flying saucer, though.” While he dressed, he told them the story of his capture, carefully omitting any reference to the oxidation pistol. Within a few moments he was dressed, and he slipped his M1911 pistol, which had been in the pile on the table, into one of the empty shoulder holsters.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” Rocket commented.

“Yeah, I’m about good as new.” Neither man commented when Majique started drawing long, slow breaths.

At that instant, the sound of the saucer’s engines changed tone, and Red Rocket recognized the change. “We’d better get ready for action. We’re landing.”

“I imagine they’ll come looking for us after we land,” Oxide suggested. “I’d sure like to be able to get some stuff from my car before that.”

“It’s this way,” Rocket said, pointing at the bulkhead behind her. “I can detect the radios with my electromagnetic sensors.” He turned one of the heavy tables on its side. “You guys should take cover while I use my disintegrator.”

Red Rocket crouched down near the bulkhead, started the disintegrator, and started tracing out a circle on the floor a little larger than a manhole cover. The room was filled with flashing, flickering light and a wave of heat as the tough material of the floor resisted, but the incredibly intense heat released by the controlled fusion of hydrogen was more than any material could long withstand. In only a few seconds, the circular section of the floor fell into the room below. Rocket quickly blasted the hot edge with super-cooled carbon dioxide, then dropped through into the dark room below, and helped Majique and Oxide down.

Before they could explore, there was an uncomfortable thump that knocked them off their feet, and then the saucer’s engine noise stopped. They had arrived… somewhere.

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Into the Frying Pan?

Vicky wasn’t exactly sure when she regained consciousness. Absolute darkness, total silence, absence of bodily sensations, all without self-awareness, gradually gave way to absolute darkness, total silence, absence of bodily sensations, and slowly growing self-awareness. The change didn’t seem to matter; Vicky knew she existed and was satisfied, and then the satisfaction gradually evolved as well, and she started to realize something was missing. And then she slowly started to remember another way of living — and then suddenly, as if a lightning bolt had struck her, she remembered everything. She sat up with a scream and opened her eyes.

Except she didn’t move, and there was no noise. She was able to see straight up, but she couldn’t turn her head, and she realized that she couldn’t move, but at least she could feel her body, and now she could feel pain. Vicki hurt everywhere, as if someone had worked her over with a rubber mallet, not hitting her hard enough to break anything, but not missing a spot — the effects of the weapon the aliens had used to capture her, no doubt. And then she realized that she could move a little, by wiggling her fingers and toes, and moving her eyes, but she was encased in a series of straps that held her firmly in place against a firm cushion. The straps made it difficult to breathe deeply, but she had enough breath to speak her word — so she did. She didn't expect it to work without rubbing the invisible jewel in her forehead, but she had to try!

But nothing happened, not even a mumble. Vicki tried to speak, she tried to sing, but nothing happened. She was still able to whistle, so it seemed as if her vocal cords must be paralyzed. She tried using her whistle to form words, but she couldn’t. Vicki was well and truly trapped, she knew, and fought against her rising panic. Zenith was not afraid of anything; she struggled to evoke the courage that was one of her powers in her heroic form, but she wasn’t completely successful — the panic was there, lurking in the back of her mind, but for the moment at least she could think. If the situation changed, even slightly, however, she knew it might leap on her like a hungry predator.

Vicki found that, by straining, she could actually roll her head slightly to either side, and she examined her trap. She was in a large room, and there were all sorts of what appeared to be alien instruments arrayed around whatever she was lying on. The image of being abducted by aliens who might want to dissect her, like something out of a lurid sci-fi story, leaped into her mind, and for a few moments Vicki went away, and a primitive wild animal struggled to escape from the bonds on the table. Vicki’s mind only returned when her struggling body was exhausted.

Without the energy to continue struggling, Vicki wearily examined as much of the room she could see. She could barely glimpse a couple of other tables, all of which had people strapped to them, also surrounded by alien instruments. Finally, she studied the bank of instruments surrounding her: a concave device like a radar dish, some mechanical arms with disturbingly human-like hands, some things that looked like flashlights mounted on other mechanical arms, and an array of what might be cameras — boxes the size of a deck of cards with a round tube sticking out of one end, hanging from the ceiling, the tubes all aimed at her. She hoped they were cameras, and not weapons, or something even more sinister.

Off to her right she could see what appeared to be a giant TV screen, and it was showing a picture of herself. Every few seconds the picture changed, and she could see herself from another angle. Then the picture would change again, and she soon realized that the next view was an x-ray, followed by a picture that seemed to show her body as if all her skin had been stripped away, and then other views that she could barely recognize. The apparatus around her was analyzing her as no human had ever been analyzed by human instruments, and details of her body were being shown on the TV. One view showed what could only be a schematic of her nervous system, and another showed what looked like a human shape made out of swirling dots of lights of all colors. What could that possibly represent? Under other circumstances, Vicki might have been fascinated, but she was currently alternating between terrified and humiliated.

Every few minutes, an alien being would walk through the room and make adjustments to the instruments, machines, and controls. They were humanoid, short, and spindly, with gray skin and heads much too large for their bodies, and they completely ignored the humans strapped to their tables. Apparently they didn’t care if Vicki was conscious or not, and so effective were her bonds that Vicki wasn’t surprised. She wanted to scream and swear at her captors, but the most she could do was flutter her eyelids. It was maddening. But, she realized, in her helpless condition anger felt better than helplessness or despair. She focused her thoughts on the revenge she would take when she got free.

Then circumstances changed. A horde of robots descended on her. She recognized some as being like the New York City attackers, and there were at least three or four other models. They all moved silently, efficiently, and relentlessly. She was unstrapped from the table, and then, despite her struggles, strapped upright to a wall, as efficiently and inexorably as she had been strapped to the table, and another human female was brought into the room.

The new prisoner was a very short brunette, who couldn’t have been much more than five feet tall. She was dressed like a drum majorette, without her baton. Her eyes were open, and Vicki could see them darting this way and that, but the newcomer couldn’t speak, either, and soon she was strapped down in Vicki’s place. The views on the TV shifted to show views of the newcomer’s body. After checking to be sure the straps were secure, the aliens left the room.

“Hello! Can you hear me?” a girl’s voice whispered in Vicki’s ear — but there was nobody nearby. Who could it be? “I’m a mystery hero,” the voice whispered. “I’ll have us free in a moment.”

Vicki didn’t say anything; her vocal cords were still paralyzed. Who could this mystery heroine be? She must be invisible. She grunted, the only noise she could make.

“Good. I have super-hearing, you know.” Vicki didn’t know, but she grunted again. “Hold on. I’ll be right with you!”

Suddenly, there came several muffled bangs, and the bindings on the wrists and ankles of the tiny girl on the table exploded. She climbed stiffly to her feet and tottered to the wall.

“That HURT! I'll try to do better on you, but this may sting a little,” the voice spoke in Vicki’s ear, but the girl’s lips didn’t move. The brackets holding her to the wall suddenly started to vibrate, and then they seemed to just fall apart. “Good. I’m getting better at it!” the voice said in satisfaction, though her lips still didn’t move. “We’d better hurry before someone notices we’re free.”

But it appeared to be too late — a strange wailing sound, probably an alarm, was blaring, and the people on the other tables throughout the room were suddenly moving. Vicki pushed the smaller girl to the floor and fell on top of her, and a rock smashed into the wall where her head had been just an instant before — a rock thrown by one of the throng of humans advancing their way.

'They must be brainwashed!' Vicki thought about the horde of people swarming toward them, screaming, throwing things, and waving improvised weapons. 'They sure don’t want my autograph!'

Jumping to her feet, she pulled a large tray off a nearby lab bench, dumping the contents randomly. The top of the bench started to smoke as some of the glass bottles broke, spilling chemicals. Holding the tray in one hand as a shield against the things that were being thrown at them, she helped the smaller girl to her feet. She tried to summon the courage her powers gave her, and she started to realize the big difference between being fearless — which Zenith was, given that she believed nothing could hurt her — and being courageous. Could she go on despite her fear? She had no other choice.

The smoldering table suddenly burst into flames with almost the force of an explosion, knocking the two heroines backward. They would have been badly burned if it hadn’t been for the tray Vicki was holding; as it was, it burned her fingers, and she had to let go. The other woman stared at the approaching mob with a look of determination on her face, and suddenly, Vicki was stunned by an incredibly loud explosion — it sounded like cannon-fire. The noise seemed to have been aimed away from them somehow, though — the effect on the approaching mob was even more stunning, as many of them were literally knocked off their feet, and the surge of people was blunted as those farther back tripped over the fallen in the front of the wave. There were a few seconds of relative silence — no, Vicki could faintly hear The 1812 Overture through the ringing in her ears — and then another super-amplified cannon-blast, and then the two girls were running toward the door though which the aliens had wheeled the smaller woman on her gurney.

The door slid out of the way, and they rushed through into a short corridor. There was an open door along one wall. The small woman pulled Vicky into that room. "We have to rescue Alex too!" the disembodied voice sounded almost hysterical, and the bands binding another woman, dressed in a skin-tight yellow jumpsuit, to a table top exploded. "We can't talk, Alex!" the mystery voice said as the other woman groggily looked around. "But we HAVE TO RUN!"

The small woman grabbed the hand of the groggy one, who was taller than Vicki by more than a head. Vicki grabbed her other arm and they pulled her out into the hall, and then turned toward the door at the far end. It slid open as they tried to run in that direction.

Vicki was extremely frustrated that the best she could do in this situation was run away. As Zenith, she could easily have stood up to the entire wild crowd, or even just picked up her companions and flown away. She was almost helpless here, though, and she hated it.

As they exited from the building, the door slid shut behind them; then the three women were startled when a red-clad flier flashed up to them and aimed a beam of some kind at the closed door. Vicki quickly recognized Red Rocket, whom she had met before in her Zenith identity, and then she was frustrated that she had no way to identify herself. The smaller woman took her arm and pointed, and she saw a black car speeding toward them at high speed.

“The cavalry, come to our rescue, just like in the movies!” she said in her ghostly voice.

“Sorry, no,” Red Rocket had overheard as he landed nearby. “We’re actually escaping.” Oxide slid the Jaguar to a screeching halt not fifteen feet away.

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Red Rocket and Oxide stood directly against the hull of one of the saucers so no robots could get behind him. As hundreds of robots swarmed toward them, Rocket used his distance weapons, the plasma-torch and a powerful microwave beamer that caused robots to stumble and fall. And as Oxide swept the wave of oncoming robots with his oxidation gun, the front rank slowed and faltered as their joints stopped working, and the robots pressing forward behind them knocked their stationary allies to the ground, making further advances difficult. Still, the seemingly unlimited robot charge surged inexorably forward, climbing over the growing pile of their downed companions to reach the heroes.


















There were literally hundreds of human-sized robots swarming like bees, virtually crushing those in front of them in an attempt to reach the combat at the center of the mass. From the center, Major Power could see flashing rays, flames and smoke, and pieces of robots flying through the air, accompanied by explosions, shrieking, tearing noises, and other incredibly loud, chaotic sounds, so incredibly loud that it even hurt his invulnerable ears. He noticed that the robots nearest the center were actually climbing over piles of dismembered robot bodies, and a swarm of flying robots were circling, blasting rays, dropping bombs, and firing sonic attacks at whatever was at the center of the crater of destroyed robots. He had a good idea that he would find Zenith there.












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“So you’re not super any longer?” a skeptical Oxide asked the captured humans.

They laughed. “We were hardly ‘super’ to begin with,” Deviser replied. “Making ice cubes, bouncing, causing radio static, jumbling spoken words, attracting and repelling other people — hardly what you think of as SUPER powers.”

Thinking of the trouble they’d had, Red Rocket replied ruefully, “You used them pretty effectively. Grounded me pretty good!”










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