Against the Eldest Flame: Doc Vandal Adventures, #1

By Dave Robinson

When Nazi gorillas try to crash a Zeppelin full of zombies into Doc Vandal's 87th floor home, he knows he's got trouble.

Doc and his team have to track their attackers to a lost city half way across the world to find the secret behind the aerial attack. It's not just a physical battle Doc has to win, it's a contest for his very soul.

On one side:
An enemy older than time;
Nazi aerial battleships;
Man-eating dinosaurs.

On the other:
Doc Vandal, a man raised by artificial intelligences, and the world's foremost scientific adventurer;
Gus, a gorilla with a fistful of doctorates, and secrets bigger than he is;
Vic, an expatriate Russian countess and daredevil pilot with a predilection for playing solitaire with razor-edged cards.

Can Doc and friends save the world from the tyranny of the Eldest Flame? Can Vic kill a Tyrannosaur with a short sword?

Find out in the first Doc Vandal adventure: Against the Eldest Flame!

• Language: English
• Publisher: KEH Publishing
• Release date: Apr 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223243113

Dave Robinson

I’m Dave, and I write. I’m also a father, a reader, gamer, a comic fan, and a hockey fan. Unfortunately, there is a problem with those terms; they don’t so much describe me as label me, and the map is not the territory. Calling me a father says nothing about my relationship with my daughter and how she thinks I’m silly. It ignores the essence of the relationship for convenience. It’s the same with my love of books, comics, role-playing games, and hockey; labels only say what, not how or why. They miss all the good parts. If you want more of a biography: I was born in the UK, grew up in Canada, and have spent time in the US. I’ve been freelancing for the last seven years. Before that, and in no particular order, I’ve managed a bookstore, worked in a pawnshop, been a telephone customer service rep, and even cleaned carpets for a living. As a freelancer, I’ve done everything from simple web content, to ghostwritten novels. I’ve even written a course on trading forex online. I’ve also edited everything from whitepapers to a science fiction anthology. Right now, I'm working on the next Doc Vandal adventure.

Book preview

DOC VANDAL

in

Against the Eldest Flame

by Dave Robinson

A Doc Vandal Publication

Revised Edition

Copyright 2017 by Dave Robinson

Cover Illustration by Carlos Balarezo

Cover Design by Queen Graphics

This is a work of fiction. All similarities to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All events, locales, and incidents are either purely the product of the author’s imagination or used for fictitious purposes.

The Doc Vandal Series

Against the Eldest Flame

Air Pirates of Krakatoa

Attacked Beneath Antarctica

Giant Robots of Tunguska

The Sunkiller Affair

The Ziggurat of Doom (forthcoming)

Collections

The Doc Vandal Omnibus: Volume One

This work is dedicated to the memory of Kim, sadly gone all too soon, without whom I would never have written a word; to Kyrie, and to my brother Neil, who always believed I was a writer even when I didn’t. Also thanks to the memory of my parents, Lyn and Clive Robinson.

I would also like to thank everyone who has helped me on this writing journey from the moment I first decided I wanted to create my own pulp heroes to the last word I typed; especially those who have read my works and given the kind of feedback you need to get the best out of a story: Brittany Maresh, Jules Ironside, S.L. Huang, Vincent Collins, Jaap Geluk, and Ian Gill.

I’d like to give special thanks to Brett Booth who served as a much-needed resource when I had questions about dinosaurs.

Any errors are mine alone.

Table of Contents

Attack in New York

Flight to Africa

Survival

Prisoners of Pongo City

Doc on the Run

Flame of Revolution

Afterword

Cast of Characters

James Clark Doc Vandal

James Clark Vandal, born January 1st, 1901 in a 43rd Archonate observation post on the near side of the Moon. Raised by alien AIs, Doc has been enhanced well beyond normal human capabilities. One side effect of his upbringing is that he has difficulty understanding some elements of human motivations. He arrived on Earth on January 1st, 1919. In the eighteen years since then, he has become the foremost scientific adventurer in the world. His most famous invention is an artificial aerogel called lyftrium which has made safe lighter-than-air travel a worldwide phenomenon. He lives with the rest of the team on the 87th floor of the Republic State Building in New York.

Victoria Vic Frank

Countess Victoria Catherine Elizabeth Marie Frank, born March 23rd (March 10th according to the Julian calendar), 1909 in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Conceived aboard an airship flying over Siberia at the precise moment of the Tunguska Event, she is the youngest of the core four. After her parents vanished during the Revolution she escaped to England by way of China with her grandmother. Taken in by Doc after her grandmother’s death, she’s a daredevil who serves as the team’s pilot. She’s very much an act first, think later, kind of person.

Augustus Gus Q. Ponchartrain

Gustar was on born October 1st, 1901 in Pongo City West Africa. He walked out of the rainforest after the War and made his way to the United States where he met Doc Vandal at Arkham College in 1921. A polymath, Gus jokes that he has more doctorates than he can count, though in actuality it’s only twelve, and is an expert on hundreds of subjects. In addition to his intelligence and education, Gus also possesses the tremendous strength of full-grown silverback gorilla. He is known to be fond of Earl Grey tea.

Gilbert Gilly Chanter

Gilbert Chanter, born December 17, 1903 in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. The son of a Baptist preacher, Gilly is Doc and the team’s driver, mechanic, and photographer. He’s also a huge fan of pulp magazines like The Shadow. For the most part he tends to sit back and quietly do his job.

CHAPTER ONE

Attack in New York

Doc Vandal held the autogyro steady over the stricken Zeppelin. Acrid smoke rose from the wounds in the airship’s flanks as it dove towards the New York skyline. It took all his strength to keep his ‘gyro in place against the hot updraft. Without taking his eyes off his target he called to his co-pilot in the rear cockpit.

Get ready to take over, Vic! he yelled over the engine. Just a few more yards and I’m going to jump.

The stick waggled in his hand, telling him that he’d been heard and she was ready to take the controls. Gritting his teeth, he advanced the throttle and the little plane inched forward. Just a few more feet and he’d be in position. They broke past the updraft and the rotor windmilled like crazy as the gyro dropped toward the Zeppelin’s hull. Doc let go of the controls and pulled himself onto the left wing, trusting Vic to keep control.

Winds buffeted his head, sending his scarf streaming behind him. The airship seemed to rush upwards towards him, the forward hatch growing from a quarter to a manhole cover in seconds. Gathering his breath, he bent his knees and leaped, aiming just in front of the Zeppelin’s forward top hatch. The autogyro shot away barely missing his head, Vic’s long red hair streamed behind the cockpit as she dove for safety.

Doc had barely enough time to notice she had reached a safe distance before he smacked into the airship’s skin. Pulling his fighting knife, he drove it through the fabric, giving himself an anchor. Fighting the wind, he twisted back to face the hatch, which had opened during his fall.

A black furry head popped up through the opening - followed by a machine pistol. Doc rolled sideways as a spray of bullets ripped a line through where he’d been laying. His knife ripped free and he stabbed several times at the Zeppelin’s tough skin before halting his slide. Gripping his knife with his right hand, Doc drew his pistol with his left and snapped off two quick shots. His assailant slumped, and Doc started working his way toward the hatch.

Reaching the hatch, he saw that his assailant was a gorilla brown shirt. Damn Nazis, he muttered as he squeezed past the ape’s bulk and into the access tunnel. The metal was hot to the touch, so he knew he didn’t have much time before the ship turned into a torch. Doc slid down the ladder, stopping just before what his memory told him should be the main deck. Slipping his pistol back in its holster, he drew a small rebreather from a pocket in his vest and slipped it in his mouth. Taking two sleep grenades in his right hand, he dropped silently to the deck and drew his pistol.

Moving very quietly for such a big man, Doc made his way forward toward the control cabin. The ship was an older cargo Zeppelin, relying on hydrogen for lift rather than lyftrium, an aerogel of Doc’s invention that had largely supplanted gas on airships built since the end of the Great War. When charged properly lyftrium was either transparent to gravity or fully reflective, and it had created an explosion in air travel few could have predicted. Most of the older hydrogen ships were used in places like Africa and the Mexican Empire, where the lack of roads and other infrastructure let them remain competitive despite their low carrying capacity.

The door to the control cabin had a small window, and Doc pulled a small periscope from his vest. Crouching below the window he extended the periscope to look around. Whistling to high for a human to hear, he counted his targets. The airship had a crew of four, two pilots and two engineers. All four were dressed in rags, and standing strangely still. The flesh that showed through their rags had a pale grayish sheen. A gorilla brown shirt stood in the center of the cabin, a machine pistol slung across his back.

Put your hands on top of your head, you hairless pig. The muzzle of a gun dug into his back.

Doc palmed the sleep grenades and slowly raised his hands to the top of his head.

Now get up! The speaker punctuated his order with a jab of his gun muzzle.

Concealing the rebreather in his mouth, Doc got up and turned to face his captor. As he suspected, it was another gorilla brown shirt, with a cap pulled over its eyes and a machine pistol looking like a toy in its massive hand. In there, the gorilla ordered Doc, gesturing with his gun, and shoving the door open with his free hand. The ape’s eyes held a glint of intelligence, and Doc wondered why it seemed so calm while the airship hurtled toward its flaming death.

Look what I found wandering around, the gorilla said, pushing Doc forwards into the control cabin. Another hairless idiot sticking its flat face where it doesn’t belong.

Don’t worry about vermin, the one from the control cabin snapped. What about Kerak and the plane? I don’t want to be aboard when we hit the Republic State Building.

Kerak’s dead, Doc’s captor replied. Somebody shot him in the face. Plane’s ready to go. I unshipped the links and opened the doors.

That was all Doc needed. He popped the rebreather back into position and triggered the grenades, spraying sleeping gas throughout the cabin. Both apes dropped, but the flight crew just stood there, ignoring the gas.

Zombies. Doc muttered around his rebreather. Clenching his teeth on the mouthpiece he turned and wrested the controls from the pilot’s unresisting hands. Whatever the gorillas were using to control the zombies seemed to still be working, which was one piece of good news. The last thing he needed was to be wrestling over the controls with someone who couldn’t feel pain. A glance at the altimeter told him they were already below a thousand feet, and still sinking. Luckily they were still over the water, but Manhattan was just minutes away.

Slamming the helm over, Doc reached for the throttles, adding the right-side engines’ thrust to the flaming rudder. Buildings were growing in the cabin windows, and he had no time to turn the airship around. His only chance was to try to put her into the Hudson and pray he missed any shipping. The Zeppelin started coming around slowly, but it wasn’t enough. Growling deep in the back of his throat, he shoved the port engines’ pitch lever all the way into reverse. They screamed in protest as the props fought their own turbulence. Just a little longer, just a little longer.

Slowly the Republic State building moved across his view. They were going to miss.

Now all he had to do was get the Zeppelin over the river when the lift finally ran out. Praying everything would hold, Doc reversed pitch on the port props and then dumped ballast, dropping two tons of water on the streets below. A sudden crack from his left told him he’d been two hopeful. One of the port props was locked in reverse thrust. Doc killed the engine, but he had needed that thrust. At least the ballast drop had given him a fighting chance to make the Hudson. They were already so low he could make out people on the streets below. Most were oblivious to the conflagration above their heads, but as he got closer he saw people drop everything and run for safety.

He was going to make it.

Doc could feel the heat of flames licking at the cabin door, but he had no choice. He had to stay on until they reached the river.

Suddenly he felt a hand at the back of his collar, ripping him away from the controls and throwing him on top of one of the unconscious brown shirts. Cold fetid breath washed over his face, making him thankful for the rebreather. One of the zombie engineers glared at him over rotting teeth. Holding the zombie off as best he could with one hand, Doc grabbed the gorilla’s machine pistol and rammed the muzzle into the zombies mouth, shattering teeth. A quick burst blew its head off, buying him breathing time.

Staggering back to the controls, Doc saw they were safely over the river and all the boats in sight were moving away as fast as possible. Not sure if there were any control surfaces left, he pushed the controls forward for a dive and took a running leap for one of the side windows. Crossing his forearms over his face he smashed through the glass and plummeted toward the river.

The Zeppelin had been high enough that he had just enough time to put his heels together and straighten up before he hit the water. The cold river almost knocked the breath out of him - rattling the rebreather he still held in his teeth. Doc kicked hard, driving himself toward the surface in a cloud of bubbles.

His head broke water just in time for him to see the skeletal frame of the Zeppelin hit the water about a hundred yards further out. Something exploded in the cargo hold, but it was drowned by the inrush of river water.

Stowing his rebreather, Doc shook his head and started to swim for the shore where Vic waited with the autogyro.

With a grin so broad she would have been eating bugs if not for the windscreen, Vic dove the autogyro away from the dying Zeppelin. She loved flying, and this little ship was almost perfect. It wasn’t fast, and it was terrible for aerobatics, but the way the rotor disk disappeared in the night sky made her feel like she was flying like a bird.

Reducing throttle, Vic brought the autogyro around to follow the Zeppelin; being careful to stay out of the updraft. The airship was streaming smoke, but she was used to flying in bad weather. At least her scarf kept most of it out of her lungs. Once on its tail, she reduced throttle to get below the ship for a better view. From below it looked like a thing out of nightmares, silhouetted by the skyline and lit by a garish combination of flames on its flanks and a handful of running lights. Dark figures filled the control cabin windows like demons in a Renaissance etching.

Stay safe, Vic muttered as the flames coursed higher.

The Zeppelin was getting close to Manhattan, and dropping dangerously low doing it. Vic held her breath as it lined up on the Republic State Building. By this point, it was taking some tricky work on her part to hold the autogyro level and the city up ahead was only going to make things worse. Vic waggled the autogyro’s stub wings and dropped a little further back so she had more room to fly.

Light flared on the underside of the Zeppelin, as someone opened the rear cargo