The Ziggurat of Doom: Doc Vandal Adventures, #6

By Dave Robinson

Ancient Aliens in Mesopotamia!

 

When the Christmas ball they are attending is thrown into chaos by the attack of power-armored Nazis, Doc and the team find themselves thrown into an adventure that will rewrite everything they know about human origins. Everything leads to the Great Ziggurat of Ur, where a column of fire reaches all the way to space. Will they find the answer before the world is destroyed?

 

Sharks in the desert, winged aliens, robot skeletons, and biblical spaceships! It's all there in the sixth Doc Vandal adventure--The Ziggurat of Doom!

• Language: English
• Publisher: KEH Publishing
• Release date: Apr 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223600879

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

The Ziggurat of Doom

by Dave Robinson

A Doc Vandal Publication

Copyright 2023 by Dave Robinson

Cover Illustration by Carlos Balarezo

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

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.

Any errors are mine alone.

Table of Contents

A Formal Invitation

Attack from Yesterday

Through the Barrier

Marshes and Hyperspace

A Heroic Rescue?

Hang Gliding in Hyperspace

Battle for the Ziggurat

Cast of Characters

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. What wasn’t known until very recently was that Vic is not really human, but actually the product of genetic engineering by an alien invasion by a race known as the Tralthans. Despite this she was able to break free of her programming and help defeat the invasion force.

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.

Kehla Ponchartrain

Kehla was born on June 22nd 1906 in Pongo City West Africa. Raised to be the First Hand of Vel, a sacrificial priestess of the Eldest Flame, she was also Gus’s childhood sweetheart. After Gus escaped from Pongo City, she rebelled against her fate and joined a guerilla movement, quickly rising to the position of leader. Following the destruction of Pongo City in Against the Eldest Flame, she finally married Gus and relocated to New York.

Li Ming

Li Ming, M.D., born February 10th, 1910 in Semarang, Java, Dutch East Indies. The daughter of a revolutionary known only as Tigress, Ming graduated from Batavia’s GHS medical school in 1933, the first Chinese woman to do so. Trained in both Western and Chinese medicine, she acts as the team’s primary physician, taking the role from Doc. She joined the team after Vic was forced to take refuge from attacking robots in her store. The store was ruined, she wanted to be paid back, and eventually fell in love with Vic.

Associates and Other Characters

Shard: Last survivor of an extra-universal race, she is all that remains of a civilization older than time itself. Her name comes from the fact she is but a small part of a truly alien group mind, and has been in the unique position of an individual for untold millions of years.

Tigress: Formerly the Air Pirate Queen, she is an Indonesian revolutionary and Ming’s mother. She is very much a social justice activist in a time where it was relatively uncommon.

Commissioner Pennyworth: A recurring thorn in Vic’s side. He is the New York police commissioner. While he gets along very well with Doc, he has problems with Vic who he considers to be a loose cannon.

Countess Ekaterina Frankova: Vic’s mother, a Russian aristocrat who spent a good two decades in a Siberian gulag, only to be rescued by Doc, Vic, and the team. She now lives in New York with Tigress.

CHAPTER ONE

A Formal Invitation

Vic took another sip of her Coke as she pondered the letter she had just picked out of the mail on the coffee table in front of her. Postmarked December 15, 1937, it was in a thick creamy envelope and bore the return address of the New York Consulate General of the United Kingdom. She ran her thumb idly over the imprint on the back as her eyes lingered on the addressee’s name.

The Right Hon. The Countess Frank, stared back at her from its position above her address. Not Miss Victoria Frank, not Countess Victoria Frank, not even Countess Frank. No, it read The Right Hon. The Countess Frank, the Republic State Building, 8701 350 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York, in full formal style.

Vic shook her head at the memories that title brought back. For all her reputation as a Russian Grande Dame, her grandmother had been born an Englishwoman and one with a less than distant connection to the Royal Family. It was that connection that had given Vic her British passport rather than the Nansen passport her mother carried; it was also that connection, along with no small amount of bullying and cajoling that had led to official British recognition of her title.

Unfortunately, that same recognition also led to letters like this one.

Damn it, she muttered as she reached for a dagger to open the envelope.

She knew what it was, of course; she got one just like it every year. It was her invitation to the consul general’s annual Christmas Ball. It was silk dresses and dancing and cocktails and absolute boredom as Sir Alistair tried once more to prove that the sun would never set on the British Empire regardless of the outcome of the American Revolution.

Naturally, as one of the very few titled holders of a British passport resident in New York, Vic’s name was at the top of the guest list every year. Tall and lithe with long red hair, she was far more photogenic than most of Sir Alistair’s staff. The fact that she usually dragged Doc Vandal along didn’t hurt. For all that he had never shown any sort of romantic interest in anyone, Doc was still the most eligible bachelor in the country. The only person he’d ever been linked with was Vic herself; she chuckled, if the tabloids only knew that his lack of romantic interest was one reason they’d worked together so long.

Well, if she had to go again this year, at least she could take her girlfriend Ming. It would be worth it to see the faces of all those gold-diggers and social climbers when they saw their sought-after meal ticket wasn’t even there. Maybe she could even bring her mother; it would do Countess Ekaterina good to be in a familiar social environment after spending almost twenty years in Soviet prison camps.

Vic slit the envelope decisively with a single long stroke of the blade.

Blah, blah, blah… the invitation looked just like all the others, craving the honour of her presence on the night of the eighteenth instant. As always it was going to be so formal that the evening would do double duty as a sleeping pill. Due to the lateness of the evening the Consulate General had taken the liberty of providing adjoining rooms for both Vic and Doc, courtesy of His Majesty’s Government.

…adjoining rooms for your ladyship and Doctor J.C. Vandal? Vic almost spit out her Coke as she reread the offending line. I'll adjoin his rooms…that, that, weasel!

Weasel? Ming, who had entered the room while Vic was going through the mail, put down the tea set beside the mail on the coffee table before finding a seat on the couch beside Vic. Who's the weasel?

Sir Alistair Smythe-Wootton, His Majesty's Consul General for New York.

That's a long name for a weasel; difficult to embroider it on a collar. Ming replied, pouring herself a small cup of steaming green tea.

I could do it, Vic shot back, and then bit back a laugh as she realized what Ming had done. No changing the subject.

So why is this Alistair person a weasel?

Because he invited me to the Consulate General’s Annual Christmas Ball, and has already decided I'm attending with Doc. He's even arranged adjoining rooms.

Don't you usually attend with Doc? Ming delicately sipped her tea.

Yes, but… Vic started to object.

…but what else would he expect?

But I wanted to take you…

Adjoining means at least two rooms; I'll share yours. Ming curled up against Vic on the couch, leaning her head on the taller woman’s shoulder. See, it's simple when you think of it.

Fine, but I'll let you tell Doc. Vic emptied her Coke. Oh well after all the excitement of the past year, they could use a boring evening. Oh, I almost forgot, there’s a package for you.

Said package was small and rectangular; wrapped in heavy brown paper it bore a postmark from the Dutch East Indies’ capital of Batavia. The return address was in a mixture of Dutch and Chinese characters, with ‘Doctor Li Ming’ written in block capitals on the front above their current address.

My needles! Ming reached for the package.

I thought you had some in your surgery kit.

These are acupuncture needles. I’ve been looking for a good set but they’re hard to find here in New York. Ming frowned. The doctors in this country have a hard time with anything that wasn’t invented by a dead Greek. These should come in handy next time you get in trouble.

Well we won’t need them on the eighteenth. Vic grinned. I promise to be on my best behavior.

I’d be a lot more comfortable with that statement if I hadn’t already seen your best behavior, love. As usual, Ming got the last word.

Doc sighed as he looked over the ballroom. At six foot four, the dark haired science adventurer was easily the tallest man in the room, as well as the best dressed. The Consulate General had taken over the top three floors of the Hotel Pierre, including the 42nd floor ballroom, and the place was packed. He had just come off the dance floor for the sixth time and was enjoying a drink. Since he preferred to avoid alcohol, he was taking Vic’s lead and drinking soda; though in his case it was plain soda water rather than Coke. He had tried Coke once, and had no intentions of drinking it again unless he had to. It was too sweet and cloying, but it was better than trying to poison yourself. As for the dancing, it was pleasant enough, but for the most part he failed to see the point. It wasn’t fast enough to be actually classed as exercise, and many people seemed to have issues matching rhythms.

The way his partners looked into his eyes was disquieting, too. It was like they were trying to read his mind even though none of them were actually telepaths. Doc finished his drink and scanned the crowd. Thanks to Vic passing on her grandmother’s lessons he knew how to behave in a setting like this, he just didn’t see the point of it.

Growing up on the Moon with a collection of artificial brains that had been running an alien monitoring station for over a hundred million years as guardians hadn’t left much time for socialization. He hadn’t seen another human in person until he was eighteen; freshly landed on Earth for the first time. The alien intelligences had done their best, two of them even drew on the memories of his deceased parents, but they hadn’t exactly been human. He had seen over a hundred million years of the planet’s history before he had ever been hugged.

Doc had also been physically and mentally enhanced to the point that it was arguable that he wasn’t fully human. No unmodified human child could have survived growing up in the variable gravity and radiation environment of a Forty-Third Archonate outpost, so they had delved deep into his physiology to make sure he would not only survive, but thrive. It had worked, but it had led to a man who always felt apart from the majority of his fellows.

He shook his head. Unfortunately, he wasn’t like Gus, who was busily carrying on a conversation with some French diplomats. As a Silverback gorilla, one would have expected that Augustus Q. Ponchartrain would stand out in a formal situation but he wore his tuxedo with such absolute assurance that nobody could question his presence. The fact he probably had more doctorates than any ten people in the room except Doc may have helped. His wife, and fellow gorilla, Kehla Ponchartrain wore a black gown, and appeared to be drinking a fruity cocktail—without ice. Both of them looked completely at home.

Vic and Ming were dancing together over in one corner of the room near the bandstand. A few men had tried to cut in, but Vic had sent each one packing with a single glance. The rest of the time her eyes had been glued to Ming’s with an intensity that made Doc wonder if she had picked up telepathy during their recent adventure in Siberia along with her physical enhancements. Though the mechanism still wasn’t quite clear even to Doc, Vic had come out of that affair at least as strong as Kehla, if not Gus, and able to nearly halve Jesse Owens’ time in the hundred-yard dash.

Both women’s mothers were also present: Countess Ekaterina was in her element, holding court as if she was back in Imperial Russia. Ming's mother, formerly a revolutionary known throughout the Dutch East Indies as Tigress, was holding back and letting her friend take the spotlight. Doc had shared a couple of dances with Tigress, and even one with the countess. They were good company, and Tigress at least knew him fairly well.

Enjoying your evening? An urbane voice interrupted Doc’s musings as he was building a mental map of the ballroom. The speaker was a well-dressed man with a small swastika pin on his lapel. Doc wasn't sure, but he believed the man was attached to the German consulate.

I was, Doc replied mildly.

I understand. The German’s eyes swept the crowd, passing over Vic and landing on Ming. It's always a strain to have to deal with inferiors in public settings.

Doc caught the man's gaze with his own. I agree, though I am trying to be civil.

The Nazi shivered, then visibly gathered his composure. My name is Heinz Gottschalke, and I am with the diplomatic service of the Third Reich. I understand you have recently come into possession of some property of the Reich. Property that must be returned.

Doc laughed, and then shook his head. The man was obviously fishing for information on the ZL-38, a Zeppelin Vic had liberated from a being called the Eldest Flame. That was something Doc found reassuring about the Nazis; they may have been utterly reprehensible but their actions followed logically from their known motivations. Unfortunately for the Nazi in front of him, the hulk of that particular Zeppelin was now serving as an artificial moon after an adventure Doc’s associate Gilly Chanter insisted on calling the Sunkiller Affair. I can assure you I have no such property. In fact, I doubt that the property you are looking for can be found anywhere on Earth.

I have it on very good authority that it is hangered in Utica.

You have it wrong; regardless of authority. Good day. Doc turned away, not wanting to share the same air as the fascist.

Gottschalke reached for Doc’s arm but Doc was faster; faster and much stronger. His face went white as Doc caught his wrist; squeezing just hard enough to make the bones rub together, but not quite enough to break them. I said good day.

G-good day. Beads of sweat broke out on the Nazi’s forehead. Sir.

Doc nodded and then released his grip. The German scurried away, supporting his wrist with his other hand.

That looks painful. This speaker was their host, Major Sir Alistair Smythe-Wootton, RM, ret. KBE. In his fifties, he was about the same height as Vic, five feet ten, but thick about the middle with a build that spoke of muscle gone to fat.

He shouldn't suffer any lasting injuries, Doc said. I am a doctor, after all.

I'm sorry you had to deal with him, but his presence is a hazard of the trade I'm afraid. He’s from the German Consulate and it would have been dreadfully rude to exclude him. He is shipping out next week, though. Pity it wasn’t a few days earlier.

Changing the subject, Sir Alistair spread his hands. I see the Countess took full advantage of her invitation; I expected two of you, not seven.

"I believe she saw an opportunity to share an evening out with her family. It's been a long time since her mother has been able