Other Earth: Alien Robot Invaders from Roswell

[dans]

This is a rewrite of an Earth S story, so I can place it on Other Earth. This chapter is different than the original story, which included Shiva and Kali; I've replaced them with Major Power and Zenith and rewritten considerably...

Alien Robot Invaders from Roswell

Breakfast with the Blakes

Iollan Blake and his daughter Betsy met for breakfast at her apartment in Harlem, on a Wednesday, early summer in 1960…

"So, Dad, are you ever going to start dating?" Betsy Blake asked her father, Iollan Blake. The two were having breakfast together on the first anniversary of the death of Keisha Blake, her mother and his wife of 50 years. "Mum's been gone for a year and I know you sometimes get pretty lonely. She won't mind, you know - I was there when she told you it was OK!"

Iollan smiled wanly. "What would YOU do if the guy you are dating keeps getting visibly younger for a year, Lizabets? After your mom passed away, every time I changed to Major Power, I seemed to be 6 months younger when I changed back. A year ago I was 71 and looked it; today I look and feel like early 50s. If you didn't know about my deal with Aduadu, what would YOU be thinking?"

"I gotta admit, that was pretty "Twilight Limits" for a while, Dad. Or maybe I woulda thought you had a deal with the devil, if I didn't know about Aduadu. But you haven't changed in a month or so, maybe you're done getting younger?"

He paused a second to think that over. "You know, it just occurred to me - I was 52 when Aduadu magically gave me the powers of the mountains (see "The First Mystery Hero" for Major Power's origin story) - and I think I'm pretty close to being 52 again. I wonder if I'm going to stay at 52 now, or maybe start getting older again?"

"Why don't you ask Aduadu?" she asked sharply. "That sounds like something I'd like to know, if it were me!"

"That's a great idea, Bets. If Major Power heads out in an hour or so, we can get there before midnight. Wanna come along and finally meet the old obosam of the mountains? He says he's looking forward to meeting you."

"Even after 20 years, Da, I still can't get over it - my Father hanging out with one of the gods of our ancestors!" she laughed nervously. "But no, I really don't feel like dangling from your arms, above the Atlantic Ocean, whipping through the sky faster than the speed of sound, for 7 hours!"

"We could take an AMH jet?" he suggested. The Alliance of Mystery Heroes maintained a number of small, very fast jet planes for members without flight or super speed powers, some of them in a hanger beneath the AMH Headquarters building in New York.

"Yeah, right, the seats are small and uncomfortable, and the cockpit is tight as a cocoon. Tell you what, when you start offering a cabin with civilized dining service, like a good airline, come talk to me then! But if you can convince Abuabu to visit here someday, I'd be honored if he would come over for dinner!"

"I'll forward the invitation," he promised. "I'll head home and lock up, and probably be back day after tomorrow."

It turned out not to be the best day for Major Power to be out of the country…

It Started in the Park

Late that same afternoon, a noisy group of people sat around a big table that was set up on the outdoor stage in Central Park's open air Starlight Theatre. The Tread the Boards Theatre Company had earlier finished their final dress rehearsal for Heart of the Immortal, the latest play by author Victoria (Zenith) Waltyngfeld. The play was being produced by the Broadway legend Rosita Mondragon, who had begun her career as a famous Broadway actress in the late 1930s, and graduated to become one of the most successful producers throughout the 60s. Rosita had arranged this catered outdoor dinner party for the cast and production crew to celebrate the end of rehearsals and the upcoming opening night.

Vicki was rightly proud of the power she wielded in the cause of right as the mystery heroine Zenith, the World's Most Powerful Woman, (see the origin of Zenith in: The First Temple) but she was even more proud of her hard-won successes in her human identity as Victoria. She wished her aged father could be here to see her play, but she and Rosita had arranged to have the opening night performance filmed as a documentary. Zenith would personally hand deliver a copy to her father, H. Alton Waltyngfeld, Baron Silverhall, at Silverhall Manor in North York, Great Britain, next month.

At least, that had been the plan.

Vicki was flanked at the table by the stately, handsome Rosita and beautiful raven-haired leading lady Katherine Kastle. "Advance ticket sales are through the roof, Vicki!" Rosita was enthusiastic. "The early reviews show that the critics like it even more than your last play Whispers in the Sky. Who would have guessed that a romantic tragedy set in an ancient empire that vanished over a thousand years ago could be so successful?"

"Antony and Cleopatra," Katherine replied simply as she served herself some salad.

"Hey, let's not start the comparisons with Shakespeare!" Vicki laughed, then continued, clearly pleased. "At least, not yet!"

Suddenly, all through Central Park, people who were looking up started screaming! A gray blur had raced across the cloudless sky and come to a stop above the park, revealing a disk, bigger across than a football field, slowly descending right above the theater. If it continued to descend, there would be dozens of people trapped underneath. Everyone who could started running anyway, screaming as they ran.

Except for Vicki. She pushed away from the table while springing to her feet, raised her hand to her forehead, and brushed her finger across her forehead, swiping through the invisible, intangible Perfection Stone magically embedded there, while speaking calmly and forcefully: "I become perfection!"

In less than an instant, something like a miniature comet materialized in the air above her head, and whirled around her in a spiral, descending to her feet. It moved too fast to follow, and left behind it, for a fleeting instant, a glowing tail that encompassed all the colors of the rainbow, almost as if painting the air. In another fleeting instant, the rainbow cocoon was gone, and Vicki had been replaced by the majestic red and black-clad form of Zenith.

As she flew toward the descending saucer, the power of her third eye, "to see that which is hidden", showed her that the saucer was mostly illusionary. There was a smaller sphere-shaped flying vessel hidden in the center of the illusion, perhaps the size of a small Cape Cod house. She flashed through the air until she was directly under that sphere, put her hands over her head, rose until she made contact, then strained her flying power to push it back up into the sky.

As soon as she started lifting, the vessel stopped descending - but then, suddenly, it somehow seemed to get more massive and drove her downward. She pushed even harder, and suddenly the hull she was pushing against shattered! She smashed violently up into the interior of that globe, until she was half in, and half out - and then the hull she had smashed through clamped shut on her waist!

The inside of the globe was totally dark, though her third eye allowed her to see that it was totally empty, as well. The hull was about a foot thick, holding her solidly. She pounded on it, tried to get her hands between her body and the hull material to tear it, tried to twist free, pushed down upon it and tried to squirm free, all to no avail. She tried flying upward, hoping to pop loose into the inside, but the sphere resisted her motion; not only did she not pop free, even flying with all her power, she could barely get the thing to move!

She couldn't be stuck here, with no idea what was happening outside. She closed her normal eyes, and with her third eye, she could see that another sphere, similar in size to 'hers', had landed in the Park, and was disassembling into humanoid robots, which were stalking any humans who hadn't run far enough away. They were shooting them with ray guns, and some of them were being disintegrated by the rays, while others just fell to the ground unconscious. She wasn't able to escape this trap using her physical powers, but she still had a trick or two up her sleeve.

Years ago she'd discovered that the magical comet that swirled around her when she changed to Zenith could at her mental command dissolve any nonliving matter that was within its vortex, in a perfect cylinder almost exactly 7' long by 3' in diameter. Which had been most embarrassing the time she'd changed back to Vicki and discovered she'd inadvertently dissolved her civilian clothes! She touched the perfection stone in her forehead, spoke as calmly as she could in the circumstances, "I become Victoria!" while thinking she wanted to be free of this trap. Her comet appeared, near her feet and spiraled upward around her, draping her in a mystical curtain containing all the colors of the rainbow, and the metal girdle that had been holding her simply vanished.

She was now Vicki, and couldn't fly; as soon as the comet vanished, even as she began to fall, she once again rubbed her forehead and spoke "I be...." but at that instant, a ray from the weapon of one of the robots struck her, and she vanished!

The robots immediately stopped pursuing people, rushed together, and somehow joined forms in a reversal of their earlier actions, transforming once again into a sphere, which floated into the air and then vanished, leaving behind a massive sonic boom and a long vapor trail that pointed sharply upwards and to the southwest...

[dans]

Sorry for the edits. I'm creating these chapters out of order, and I want to leave placeholders for them.

Alien Robot Invaders from Roswell

I Lost My Friend in San Francisco

The alien robot invaders land in San Francisco, where they encounter AVant Guard - Miss Music and Palette. What do they take with them when they leave?

Afternoon in the Valley of the Sun

The saucer from San Francisco lands in Phoenix, there is a terrific battle, and it flees.

[dans]

This chapter is pretty much identical to the Oxide episode in my earlier story.

Alien Robot Invaders from Roswell

By Immortal Wildcat

Hot Night in Steel City

A church bell tolled 10 PM as a sleek, open-topped ebon-colored car purred its way up 40th Street and across the Allegheny River out of Steel City. Once across the river, the car turned right onto the Blue Belt and sped away, quickly covering the distance to the small town of Millvale. As the name implied, the suburban town was home to a number of steel mills. Towering smokestacks belched forth clouds of black smoke and gouts of sparks that glittered along with the stars in the cloudless sky.

The sports car wound its way between massive buildings where the night shifts continued to melt ore and produce the steel that was the lifeblood of Steel City.

Veering down a road running alongside the river, the car’s destination soon came into view. It stood out very clearly in the darkness, the neon paddle-wheel visible from three blocks away. The Steamboat Club stood at the far end of a packed parking lot. The driver pulled in and drove up to the front door, exiting the car and leaving the engine running.

Inside the club, Monique Montague stood at the hostess desk, ready to greet any new arrivals. She saw the car pull up through the glass doors, and motioned one of the parking attendants to go and park the car. As the young man started out the door, the driver of the car held up one hand and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, son. I don’t plan to stay long.”

As he stepped inside, Monique was surprised and pleased by his appearance. He was black, of above-average height, standing a few inches over six feet, and his body was slim, yet obviously athletic. He wore a dark gray overcoat over a burnt-orange suit, a matching tie draped down the front of his pewter-colored shirt. A dark, wide-brimmed hat with a similarly rust-colored band wasn’t enough to hide the most unusual part of his wardrobe, however: the dark gray domino mask on his face.

Before she could react to his entry, Gregor and Stan stepped in front of the man. “Dunno what kind of funny business you’re trying to pull here, mister, but you ain’t going inside,” said Stan.

“He’s right. We don’t allow no wannabe mystery heroes in here.” Gregor, a dark-haired, brooding giant of a man stood head and shoulders above the dark-skinned masked man. He reached to grab the shorter man’s arm to escort him out, only to have his arm knocked to the side by a sweeping forearm block.

“Oh, so we got us a wise guy, eh?” said Stan, stepping up to flank the masked stranger. His move was cut short by a side-kick to the stomach. He fell back into a sitting position on the floor.

Gregor took a half-step back, crouching down into a fighting stance. “OK, little man. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The masked man stepped forward and to his right, then quickly stepped back and came forward again, this time to the left. The feint caught the big Russian off-guard, and the masked man moved in under his guard, striking the bigger man with a karate chop to the ribs, followed by an extended knuckle-punch to Gregor’s thigh. Neither blow was hard enough to do any real harm, but the big man reached for his leg as the muscles spasmed. Doing so, he brought his head down lower. A fist smashed upward into his jaw, snapping his head back. This was followed by a knee driving up into his groin; then that same knee smashed into Gregor’s face. He dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Monique stepped around her desk. “Well, now that you’ve gotten your exercise, sir, allow me to welcome you to the Steamboat Club. I hope there is no confusion, sir, but the Mardi Gras masked ball was last week. But I’ll be happy to take your mask if you wish to enjoy the evening’s entertainment.”

“The mask stays,” said the man, speaking in a rich-timbered baritone that filled the room without seeming loud.

“I see,” said Monique, snapping her fingers and waving a pair of red-jacketed bus boys to move the unconscious bouncers out of the lobby. “I’m afraid management has a rather strict policy regarding our customers: we prefer to see their faces.”

“Does that include the ones here for the gambling?” asked the masked man, looking her up and down. He smiled, appreciative of the expanses of coffee-toned skin revealed by her long, tight-fitting gown.

She moved closer, laying a hand on his arm and allowing a significant portion of her body to rub up against his. “You obviously have us confused with some of the… mmm, less-sophisticated establishments along the river. Perhaps, if you’d like, I can show you around the Steamboat, and let you get…” She paused a second, her eyes cast downward. “…better acquainted?”

“Tempting as your offer sounds, Miss…?”

“Monique. And your name?”

“You can call me Oxide. And I’m afraid I’m here strictly for business.” (You can learn more about Oxide here: The Steel City Stalwart.) He reached inside his trenchcoat and pulled out a five-by-seven photograph. “Has he been in tonight?”

Monique looked at the picture and let out a light, tinkling laugh. “Him? Oh, forget it, baby; he’s much too pale to make it in the door here.”

“Sure he is,” said Oxide, putting the photo away and slipping a hand around her waist. “Like that would matter. Lou Misenti has his hands in every gambling operation in the Three Rivers region. If he’s not coming in here to check things personally, I want to know who is.”

Monique pulled closer, feeling the heat of his body against her own. She looked up into his hazel eyes. “I know everyone who comes in here, but information has its price.” She slipped her arms up under his, placing her hands on his shoulders and drawing him down to her. Her voice was a whisper in his ear. “So, what are you offering?”

His fingers played along the edges of her dress, where it fell to her waist in the back. “I’ve got plenty to offer, darlin’, but not tonight.” He eased himself out of her caress and moved gracefully toward the door. “Some other time, perhaps.”

Monique ran her hands down the slides of her dress, smoothing it out. “Come back some night without the mask and the guns, and I’ll show you the best the Steamboat has to offer.”

He raised a fingertip to the brim of his hat. “Oh, I’m sure I’ve seen the best already,” he said as he slipped out the door. 'Too bad the police can’t do a frisking like that,' he thought, somewhat bemused.

Oxide vaulted into the car, slipping down into the seat of the modified Jaguar XKD racer. As he drove off, he toggled a switch on the radio under the center panel.

“You there, Dennis?” he asked.

A voice came back over the radio. “Colt? I was starting to wonder if you were going to make it out of there in one piece.”

“The two bouncers went down like bowling pins. I thought the Russian goon was supposed to be tough.”

“That’s what they told me. I don’t get out much these days,” his partner responded bitterly. He didn’t often let his confinement to a wheelchair affect him. He quickly continued, before Colt had a chance to become uncomfortable. “Any luck?”

“Don’t doubt I could’ve gotten lucky with the hostess. She lied about Misenti, but she might still give me a lead. That is, if Bruno’s gadget works.”

“Bruno’s gadgets always work, Colt.” Several miles away, in his estate in the hills of Duquesne Heights, Dennis David smiled. 'With the prices I paid,' he thought, 'Bruno’s gadgets had better work'. “You think she knows anything?”

“If she knows half of what she claims, she knows who’s making the pick-ups for Misente, and probably how much they are. But I don’t know what that’s got to do with this operation you heard about for tonight.” Oxide flipped another switch, and a smaller radio came to life. The sound of a phone dialing came out of the speaker. Oxide started counting the pulses.

“Lou, it’s Monique. Someone just came around looking for you.”

“It’s working, Dennis.” It was a button-sized microphone and transmitter that he’d slipped into her dress.

“You’ll take care of it? All right, then.” He heard Monique hang up the phone, then let out a sigh. “Too bad; he might have been fun.” Colt made a mental note to go back to the Steamboat sometime when he wasn’t on business.

“Satisfied?” asked Dennis over the radio link.

“That it works? Yeah. Local phone number, 732-9932; see if you can get anything from the phone company.” Oxide glanced in one of the rear-view mirrors and saw two pairs of headlights swinging in from side streets to fall in behind him. “Hmm, looks like Lou is a fast worker.”

“Trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” said Oxide with a smile. “Call Zeke; tell him I’ll try to drop this garbage off at his place.”

“Will do,” said Dennis, as Oxide turned his focus to his driving.

Oxide gunned the engine as he drove back toward the city. In a flat-out chase, he had no doubt the Jaguar was faster than anything Misenti’s men were likely to be driving. However, he wanted to lure these two down to the precinct house where Zeke, or Police Detective Lance Pautzke, was working. That meant driving the twisting city streets and watching out for pedestrians and other drivers. He had no illusions that the two drivers on his tail shared his worries about innocent bystanders. He stayed on the Blue Belt as it merged with Union Street, keeping well ahead of his pursuers while making sure they didn’t lose sight of him. At 16th Street he skidded into the intersection, the car turning to face south, then gunned the engine. The sleek black car leaped forward like the jungle cat for which it was named. By the time he reached the end of the bridge over the Allegheny, he spotted the first pair of headlights turning the corner to follow him, followed by a second.

“Zeke’s got men at the Grant Street station; wants to know how long till you get there,” said Dennis over the radio as the Jaguar turned right onto Penn Avenue.

Oxide glanced at a signpost as he passed. “I’m passing 14th on Penn; I’ll cut over at 11th to Grant, and it’s about three-quarters of a mile from there. Two minutes, unless some fool gets in the way.”

“Colt, watch those tracks by the train station; those back shocks are a little wonky.” Oxide smiled at the lilting voice coming over the radio. He could picture Mel in her grease-stained coverall, long hair carefully tied back in a braid, leaning over the desk to speak into the microphone.

“Don’t worry, Mel. I know what your baby is capable of.”

“That’s what worries me, you bloody Moor.”

Up ahead, Oxide could see the back side of the train station. The tracks crossed Penn Avenue on this side of the station, and 11th Street was on the other side. He saw a car start to pull out ahead of him from the station parking lot. “Damned idiot!” he swore as he stomped on the brake and swung the wheel to the right. The back end of the car swung to the right, and he cranked the wheel to the left as he hit the gas again, taking off across a parking lot. There was a twenty-foot-wide grass-covered embankment leading upward from the edge of the parking lot and the railroad tracks, and another embankment leading down into the back lot of the train station.

“Hey, Mel, got a question for you,” he said as he floored the accelerator.

“I’m afraid to ask…”

“How are the front shocks?” The Jaguar was traveling just under eighty miles per hour when he reached the edge of the pavement. The smooth street tires slipped a bit on the grass, but sheer momentum kept the car moving through the weeds. At the top of the embankment, the car left the ground.

“Did you–? Are you–? Oh, bloody hell, please tell me you didn’t just jump the tracks!” screamed Mel.

The car came down just past the grass on the opposite side of the tracks, the back end of the car dropping down to strike the pavement, sending up a shower of sparks.

“As you wish. I won’t tell you. And to answer my own question, the front shocks are just fine.”

Oxide hit the gas again, steering the car out of the parking lot and onto Grant Avenue. The back end was riding lower than usual, and the car was sluggish in the turn. He quickly calculated how much chocolate it was going to take to buy his way off Mel’s blacklist. Looking in the mirrors once more, he saw that one of the cars, which he recognized as a 1958 Corvette, had duplicated his jump, while the older Cadillac stayed on the road and was just turning onto Grant.

“Don’t know what your guys have been telling you, Dennis, but Misenti’s hired himself some good drivers.”

Grant Avenue was deserted, so Colt floored the gas pedal and streaked through intersections, down to where he knew the police station stood. The Cadillac and the Corvette were racing after him, side-by-side.

“Aww, come on, you’re not going to catch me in a phalanx like that,” said Oxide as he swerved to the left and toggled a switch on an obviously handmade panel next to the steering column. There was an audible thump as a small explosive charge opened a compartment under the back end of the car, and several dozen spiked balls were released onto the road.

He smiled as he saw the Cadillac slow down and fall in behind the Corvette just as he passed the police station. He saw a half-dozen uniformed officers coming out the front door as he hit the brakes and swung the steering wheel around. As the car turned one-hundred and eighty degrees in the intersection, he reached under his coat and pulled out one of two guns from his under-shoulder holster. Pressing a lever with his thumb as he drew, parts of the gun glowed a dim orange. He thumbed a dial, counting the clicks, then aimed and fired at the Corvette‘s front end.

From a hundred feet away, he heard the grinding of the car’s brakes as the brake pads and rotors blossomed with rust. The brakes locked up, bringing the car to an abrupt stop right in front of the gathered policemen. The Cadillac, unable to stop as quickly, plowed into the back of the Corvette. The fiberglass body of the Corvette disintegrated to dust around two dismayed hoods.

Oxide tucked the pistol back into its holster as he gunned the engine and sped back up Grant Avenue, past the totaled cars and the officers trying to pull the drivers from the wreckage. Spotting Detective Lance Pautzke, Oxide touched a finger to the brim of his hat as he sped by.

“Colt! You there? I’ve got an address to go with that phone number,” crackled Dennis’ voice over the radio.

“Yeah, I’m here, rich kid. What’ve you got?”

“Address is 8843 Wharton Street. Matches up with the rumors I heard about something going down tonight.”

Oxide swung the car around a corner and started heading toward the Tenth Street Bridge. As the car sped up, he noticed that the rumbling he’d felt from the back after his jump disappeared. Then he realized that the road noise had disappeared completely, and he felt no resistance as he pressed down on the gas pedal. Stunned, he looked out and realized the car was rising above the surrounding buildings. He looked up, and he could vaguely see a circular shape in the sky above him.

The car headed toward a darker rectangle set in the circle, and he realized it was an opening. He reached under his coat and pulled the oddly shaped pistol he had used moments before, slipping it into a compartment up under the dashboard. Flying saucers didn’t come along every day, and he figured the oxidizing pistol from which he’d taken his nickname was the most likely reason for this flying saucer to be interested in him.

Moments later, the car was sitting in a large bay, surrounded by robotic creatures pointing what appeared to be weapons at him. As he slowly got out of the car, he pulled the other pistol, a standard M1911 pistol, and laid it on the ground next to him, waiting to see what would happen next.

[dans]

This is a placeholder for a chapter I haven't written yet.

Alien Robot Invaders from Roswell

Late Night Date in Chicago

 An alien saucer descends on the University of Chicago campus. After it leaves, Red Rocket is missing...

[dans]

Alien Robot Invaders from Roswell

Early Morning in St. Louis

by Drivtaan and Dan Swanson

Friday morning, early...

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 chill early morning wind still tugged on her long, black hair, a trait that made some of her friends compare her looks to a shorter, a bit more rounded Cher. 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, and New York City report encounters last night and early today with what appears to be alien spacecraft. In all instances, the aliens have been repelled after facing either the military or costumed individuals. Officials are telling us that military bases all across the nation are on high alert. This is not a joke, folks, and it’s not another Martian Invasion radio scare!”

Suddenly, the announcer, who had been stern and somber, sounded excited - and more than a little scared. “Hold on a second. We’ve got some breaking news coming in.” A pause. “It appears that one of the spaceships has been spotted in the skies over St. Louis, approaching from the East. 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 aforementioned craft. “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 headed for Lambert Field. This I need to see!” She stepped down hard on the gas.

A few blocks later, she forced the car through a squealing turn, barely slowing down, 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, turning everyone back. She hit the brakes and slid to a stop 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, “where can I go that is safe?”

The officer looked down at the attractive young woman in the multi-colored, multi-layered skirt and white peasant blouse for a few seconds, then shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Miss. I wish I knew more that could help. I don’t know where to go that’s safe, but you can’t stay here.”

Valerie’s first instinct was to let the man know he was talking to someone important and he should let her through to the airport. 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 wan smile and put her car into reverse. As she turned around, there was no mistaking the sound of an explosion coming from the airfield.

Val 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.

Forty years ago, her family had just arrived in the area as immigrants from Eastern Europe. Her Romany grandparents and their son — people still called them Gypsies, even in this day and age — had camped here in a thin copse of wood for almost a month before developers ran them off. And yet, the area was still lightly wooded! 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 here 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. Her intuition warned her not to ignore it.

She hated mud, especially sticky slimy clay mud! Picking up a stick from the debris in the disk, she poked the object free. It was a wooden box; she immediately recognized it as a Romany “treasure chest,” though it was rotting and starting to fall apart. She easily knocked the top off, and was startled to see a bag inside. Even from several feet away, she could feel the magic aura around the bag, magic that had apparently kept it completely clean and dry even after years buried in the wet clay.

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 my Gypsy image!’ she thought triumphantly.

Unable to resist an urge that was much more powerful than mere curiosity, Val 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; in fact, she plunged her arm past the elbow without encountering the bottom of the bag!. The fact that the thing was magical didn’t really surprise her, given that it had called to her ‘magical sense. She was no stranger to “the Arts”, and she some mystical ability herself. She could sense magic, affect emotions, she was very good at locating missing people, and she could manipulate simple mechanical objects at a fairly close range without touching them. She also had a collection of scrolls and magical artifacts she’d collected through the years, but she had neither the time, nor the patience, to spend figuring them out. In all the time she had spent studying the various angles of magic, she had only learned how to cast two 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 said, “but it would have been nice if you hadn’t been empty, but 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 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, but stopped abruptly as she somehow 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 and the ring would vanish. She had other talismans of power that she wore, most of which appeared to be no more than costume jewelry that completed the “Gypsy sorceress” look she used to impress her clients, but none of them had ever given her this feeling.

“All right,” she said to herself, “let’s see if you’re really going to be helpful to me doing something about those aliens.”

As she slogged through the thin wood and headed 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 left  muddy footprints 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 they would make the musical whistling that accompanied those she had seen at in science fiction movies 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.

On the runway, two jets were burning out of control. Fortunately, 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 few seconds, they were half 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 the heavy streams of high caliber slugs that were 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 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 wisdom she had shown in keeping it on. 

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. “This isn’t the first report of costumed individuals 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. His teammates heard their new orders, so the flight 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, Valerie 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 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.

Valerie realized that, to reach her, they would have to pass by the opening of the hangar where the aliens were. She began to wave them off. Instead, she directed their attention toward the hangar. She held 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.

Inside the ship, Valerie found herself facing a third alien. It, too, carried a gun and seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see it. She reached for the gun in an attempt to push its barrel away from her. As she did so, she uttered the arcane words of one of the two spells she knew. The shadows that lined certain areas of the hallway reached out and grabbed the alien by the arms. There was a sickening thud when it slammed against the wall. Valerie knelt and picked up the gun; if she couldn’t figure it out, then perhaps the military might be able to.

She encountered no more aliens as she raced along the curved corridor which seemed to encircle the ship. She was just passing an open interior door when she felt the ship jerk. She knew there was only one explanation; the ship was taking off. She was passing another opening when the ship lurched violently to one side, throwing her off-balance and in through that open door. 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.”

Val barely choked off a scream of almost terrified surprise the instant she heard the voice. Her head jerked painfully around; she looked up from the floor where she'd fallen and saw that it was a a human voice, coming from a human. A human hanging from the wall.

Shackles built into the bulkhead held him firmly in place. He was a handsome man by anyone’s standards; his strawberry blond hair was tousled, a sign of the fight he'd been putting up 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 seemed to highlight a boyish freckled face.

Valerie thought for a second, then began to recite the words to the only other spell 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.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here, lady,” the man said, “but your magic is just what the doctor ordered. I’m Red Rocket.”

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

“Sounds good to me.”

[dans]

Alien Robot Invaders from Roswell

The Captives Team Up

“So they’ve attacked St. Louis as well?” Red Rocket asked Majique. “Any idea what they were looking for? How’d you get free? Are there any other prisoners aboard?”

Majique didn’t immediately respond to his questions. “How’d you know I got on in St. Louis?”

“I’m a detective.” She’d already seen his face, so Cody Mason figured it was futile to try to conceal his civilian identity. He examined the room closely as he spoke. “I’ve heard about some of the cases you’ve solved for the St. Louis P.D. Pretty impressive, actually!”

Val flushed slightly at praise from the famous mystery hero. Cody moved to the door, listened closely, and then continued his questions. “How’d you escape?”

“I wasn’t captured. I sneaked onto the saucer to look around, and it took off.”

He shook his head slightly at that, but just asked another question. “Did you see any aliens?”

“Soldiers killed two of them on the ground. I only saw one, and… I think I — I think I killed it.” Val was not a violent person, and now that she had time to think about what had happened, reaction was starting to set in. She started shaking violently, and she felt as if she was going to throw up. Rocket touched her gently on her shoulder, but she jerked away as if from an electric spark. He decided the best thing he could do was be to keep her busy.

He picked up the gun she had dropped. It was something like a pistol, and there was a volleyball-sized globe hanging from the grip by a short hose. It was identical to those used by the robots that had captured him, except for the hose and globe, as the hose on the robots had extended over their shoulder into a backpack. Rocket was starting to wonder about these pistols. In Chicago they had been very ineffective weapons.

Red Rocket examined it closely, being careful never to point it at Majique. There was no obvious trigger. “Did you see any of them use one of these?” She shook her head. “We might have time to experiment later.” Reluctantly, he carefully laid the pistol down on the floor; the scientist in him wanted to figure it out right now, but the heroic adventurer knew there were other priorities. He hated leaving it behind, but even smashing it could be dangerous, and it was too awkward to carry.

“So, they took my combat suit when they captured me. Can you use your 'finding' powers to find it?” he asked her, getting back to the business at hand.

“They don’t work that way. I can find people by sensing their emotions, but I’m not good at finding things.” 'Unless they're magical,' she amended mentally.

“How about a spell, like the one that freed me?” he interrupted.

“I don’t know any finding spells.” Even as she shuddered again, thinking of how she had just used the only other spell she knew, she didn't let on that she only knew two spells. And then she stopped, as her intuition gave her a possibility. “Hold on — I may have something that can help.” She pulled open the blue bag and reached inside.

'I could really use something to help us out, here!' she thought to the bag. 'Something to help the hero find his clothes.' She closed her hand, and there was a thin rod of some sort lying across her palm. Unlike the ring, whatever this was didn’t come out easily; she had to strain both physically and psychically to pull it forth. It turned out to be a smooth black rod about eight inches long and the diameter of a pencil, with some kind of gem mounted on the end — a small magic wand. Her intuition told her it could help — and also, not to put it down.

She held it high overhead and gestured grandly. “Wand, bring me Red Rocket’s costume.” Nothing happened. Angrily, she pulled it down and pointed it at Rocket, who immediately stepped aside. She turned slightly to adjust, and he moved again.

“Stand still!” she ordered him angrily, but he moved more quickly than she could follow, stepping in closer, pushing her arm aside, and slipping behind her. He reached around her with both arms, one arm clasping the wrist to prevent her from waving that wand around any further, the other clamping down over her mouth. She tried to bite him.

“Listen,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t know you — no way am I going to let you use an unknown magic wand on me!” She started to retort, but all she could do was mumble. “OK, now watch the jewel!” he ordered, and forced her to turn through a wide arc. Partway through the turn, the gem started to glow; as they turned more, it glowed even brighter and then started to dim again.

“Understand?” She nodded. He let her go.

“Don’t you ever touch me like that again!” she hissed sharply.

“Agreed,” he replied easily. “Unless you point a potential weapon at me again,” he added a bit more sharply.

She nodded reluctantly. “How did you know how to make it work?” she asked.

“Didn’t, actually. But I saw it start to glow when you were swinging it around, so I took a guess. I’ve had a little experience with magic.”

"You fought the Magist, didn't you?" she asked eagerly. "I met him once, before he obtained that magic wand he called 'Stonebender' and turned bad. Do you know what happened to that wand? It was a stone rod about 16 inches long, with gems embedded in the rod and an obsidian globe on one end."

The Magist had actually just purchased that broken, virtually powerless magical talisman in a bag of junk when she'd met him, and she'd actually advised him to fix and recharge it! And since then, she'd always regretted her advice - if she'd told him it was worthless, maybe she could have convinced him to give it to her - and then SHE could have fixed it and recharged it. For an instant, she gritted her teeth in anger as she again silently and bitterly cursed her younger self's stupidity at missing a chance at the matchless power she'd always deserved!

"He was using a staff he called 'Igviz' when we tangled. It was much longer and topped with a half-sized carved ivory skull," he replied. "Never saw anything like what you describe. Sorry…"

'Stop it, Val!' she thought sternly. 'We still have to get away from the aliens!' She brightened at a sudden thought. 'Maybe I can pull it from my bag! But not right now - the bag sure didn't want to let me have _this_ wand.' She could somehow sense that the bag needed to 'rest' between uses. Reluctantly, she brought her thoughts back to the present.

The guiding rod pointed through the one of the walls of the room, so they were going to have to use the corridors. “The door to outside is that way,” Majique said, pointing to the left. “The corridor is narrow, and there are a lot of closed doors along it. Also, there’s a dead alien…”

“Did you see any cross-corridors going in the right direction?” he asked. She shook her head. “OK, stay here for a second.” Before she could ask why, he was out the door and moving to the left. An instant later he was back, carrying the alien.

“Hope he doesn’t have any broken bones, or it could’a messed him up carrying him,” he said, gently laying the alien body on the floor.

“He’s alive?” Majique was thrilled to hear she wasn’t a killer — and a little apprehensive being around a living alien.

“He’s breathing, at least,” Rocket replied. “I don’t want to carry him with us. Do you have anything we can use to tie him up?”

She thought for a second, then tucked the wand into the sash she used as a belt, feeling relieved when it didn’t vanish. “Turn your head!” she ordered him, then lifted her skirts and pulled a wicked-looking dagger from a sheath on her leg. A couple of quick slashes, and she’d cut some long strips from the bottom of one of her petticoats. They quickly bound the alien.

“OK. Time to go exploring!”

Another Captive

Using Val's dagger, Red Rocket was able to pry the chains that had formerly held him loose from the wall, gaining two vicious weapons in the process. He then suggested to  Majique a new way to use her psychic powers — instead of blocking out all the ambient psychic impressions of living, thinking beings and looking for a single person much farther away, could she locate any other thinking beings nearby?

She concentrated, and within a few seconds she reported, “Maybe another person — but no more bug-eyed monsters. Same direction as your battle-suit.”

“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!' he thought fleetingly, then winced as she got a step into the room and collapsed to the floor.

Some cautious experimentation proved to Cody that he didn’t want to go into that room himself. 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 he had planned. 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 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 out,' 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 the boots and ground the remaining pieces to dust. The built-in system diagnostics showed that his systems were back to normal. 'Have to watch out for more of those things,' he warned himself as he finished suiting up.

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 various science-fiction films. He paid particular attention to the many cables and bundles of wires criss-crossing the floor 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.

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. 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 Pittsburgh, and just getting started in the mystery-man 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.”

That was another chance for Majique to strut her stuff, she realized. 'Wand, show us the way to Oxide’s car!' she commanded mentally. The wand changed instantly into a fine gray dust. Disgusted, she reached for the bag at her waist, then stopped abruptly as her magical intuition flared a strong warning of danger. She was rather flustered when Red Rocket turned toward her.

“Sorry — the items from the bag only work once, and the bag needs some time to recharge!” She was apologetic, and even her best attempt at self-control couldn’t keep her cheeks from reddening with embarrassment. How inept a mage did that make her sound? “I didn’t expect to be captured by aliens today!” She stopped when she realized she was whining, then snarled, “I’ll make sure I’m carrying more powerful tools next time.”

“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 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.