The Second Doc Vandal Omnibus: Doc Vandal Adventures

By Dave Robinson

Welcome to a world of pulp super-science, talking gorillas, and rocket-powered Zeppelins. This is the world of Doc Vandal and his crew. Followed by Gus, the gorilla polymath, and Vic, the expatriate Russian countess, Doc is the foremost scientific adventurer of the age. Follow the team around the world and into the depths of space itself as they battle everyone from Nazis to utopian cultists.

Thrill as Doc Vandal and the crew find themselves up against:

Giant Robots battling around the shores of Lake Tunguska!
A Mad Scientist about to destroy the world!
Ancient Aliens from the depth of hyperspace!

It's all there in the second collection of Doc Vandal adventures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KEH Publishing
• Release date: Apr 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223435327

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

The Doc Vandal Omnibus:

Volume Two

by Dave Robinson

A Doc Vandal Publication

Copyright 2017-23 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 (forthcoming)

Collections

The Doc Vandal Omnibus: Volume One

The Doc Vandal Omnibus: Volume Two

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

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.

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Giant Robots of Tunguska

Table of Contents

An Unexpected Visitor

Rocksferatu

Manchukuo

Tunguska

Ascension

Afterword

The Sunkiller Affair

Table of Contents

Enter Sunkiller

Behind Bars

On the Road

Walking on Starshine

The Retreat

Goddess of Death

Afterword

The Ziggurat of Doom

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

Afterword

Giant Robots of Tunguska

CHAPTER ONE

An Unexpected Visitor

Ming smiled broadly and laid out her hand with a flourish. Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, fifteen-six, fifteen-eight, and a quadruple run for twenty-four points.

She reached out and moved her peg, setting it in the final hole.

Vic looked at her own hand, four even cards plus the four in the cut for no points. Skunked again. She shoved her crib aside without even looking at the cards. Maybe teaching Ming to play cribbage hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Another game? Ming was still smiling all the way up to her eyes. What do you call it? ‘Mugs away’?

Vic chuckled and took the cards from her girlfriend. Pushing them into a single pile she began her regular shuffle routine. At least now she had someone to play cards with. Doc, Gus, and Kehla all played chess but the game was just too damn slow for Vic. Even backgammon was better.

As she shuffled, Vic let her eyes wander around the lounge. It was just another family night at home on the 87th floor of the Republic State Building. It was funny, but this was the first place she’d really called home since she was a little girl at her parent’s dacha outside Petrograd. It was all gone now, even the city had a new name since she was a girl, but at the time it had been home. If nothing else, her new home was very different than anything the Russian aristocracy could have imagined. Then again, her family would have expected her to be married with children of her own: not a spinster romantically involved with a Chinese doctor, and a woman at that.

Over in the corner of the lounge Doc Vandal, the unofficial head of the family, was playing chess with his best friend, a gorilla named Gus. Augustus Q. Ponchartrain was no ordinary gorilla though; he had more doctorates than some small college departments. Gus’s wife Kehla, also a gorilla, alternated between kibitzing the game and doing a crossword. The last member of the family, a black man named Gilly Chanter, sat in front of a large cabinet radio with their latest guest: a being called Shard.

Tonight was supposed to be the first episode of a new radio drama featuring one of Gilly’s favorite pulp characters: a masked vigilante known as The Shadow. Gilly seemed to be doing a surprisingly good job of explaining murder mysteries to an alien who had spent the last several million years in a lost city buried on a lakebed, miles beneath the Antarctic icecap. Shard was even more alien than the artificial minds that ran the lunar base where Doc was raised; she came from outside the Universe itself. Considering that Gilly had narrowly escaped being transformed into a similar creature, Vic wasn’t surprised that he had developed the strongest connection with Shard.

Vic’s fingers had kept busy while her mind was wandering, and she finally finished shuffling the cards. After passing the deck over for Ming to cut, she started her deal. She grinned: she was going to win this time.

The chime from the elevator interrupted her deal and she turned to see a bloody figure stumble out of the car and collapse on the floor in front. Ming dropped her cards and ran to the stranger, driven by more than just her Hippocratic Oath.

Vic sighed, and dropped her own cards before rising to go help Ming.

The stranger lay face down on the carpet outside Doc’s private elevator. He was about six feet tall, with red hair the same shade as Vic’s own. Following Ming’s gestured instructions, Vic rolled him over. He was light, maybe a hundred and twenty pounds soaked in blood. Once she had him on his back, his eyes opened and fixed on hers.

Ekkie? That one word was enough to send a dagger into Vic’s heart.

Doc reached the elevator lobby moments after Vic had rolled their unknown visitor onto his back; just in time to hear the man call her Ekkie.

The word seemed to hit Vic like a poleaxe, almost stunning her in place; Doc was going to have to find out what it meant, but for the moment he had a patient to deal with.  Kneeling down, he picked up the injured man and carried him into the infirmary. The man was so thin that his suit hung off his body. Once Doc had him on the surgical bed he began stripping the man’s clothes off while Ming reached for a stethoscope.

With a whole floor to himself and his friends, Doc had long ago found it useful to keep an infirmary on the premises. Over the years what had been a single small room had grown into something closer in concept to a small hospital. With three beds and a small but very well equipped operating theater, he and Ming could handle almost any medical problem.

His heart’s strong, Ming said, after listening through the stethoscope. I don’t think all this blood is his.

Doc finished stripping the man down to his underwear, and had to agree. Most of the blood was on his suit and trousers, obviously someone else’s. He took a deep breath; not someone else’s something else’s. It was pigs’ blood.

Now that they had a chance to properly examine the patient it was clear that he was suffering more from malnutrition and exposure than any sort of attack. Although he was a good six feet tall, the scale built into the surgical bed gave his weight as one hundred and eighteen pounds. Meanwhile, Ming was continuing to check his heart and lungs.

Is he alright? Vic had come up behind them, and was leaning against the infirmary doorway, looking surprisingly subdued. Will he be alright?

Ming looked up from her patient and nodded. He’s about sixty pounds underweight, but that’s nothing a little good food and exercise can’t fix. He might need a week in bed, but after that he should be fine in a month or two.

Thanks. Vic hugged her chest, her eyes still fixed on their patient.

Doc raised an eyebrow. Vic wasn’t usually this quiet when something happened. Do you know who he is?

I think so. Vic stepped further into the infirmary and leaned over the patient. Reaching forward, she carefully moved a lock of hair away from his eye.

Now that he had a good look at the two of them, the resemblance was remarkable. Not only was the man’s hair exactly the same shade of red as Vic’s but he also had a similar cast of features. He had the same nose and chin as Vic, once you allowed for the generally heavier features of a man.

Who is he? Ming asked, taking the stethoscope out of her ears.

I think he’s my cousin Viktor, Vic explained. He always called me Ekkie when we were children because he was Vic so I had to be somebody else.

You think? Ming asked. Don’t you know?

As far as I knew, the Bolsheviks shot Viktor in 1918. He was only ten years old. Vic’s face was a mask. My grandmother and I were the only members of our family to get out of Russia alive.

It’s alright Ekkie, Viktor opened his eyes and reached for her hand, his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn’t have known.

I can understand why you didn’t want her to use your name, Ming said, but why Ekkie?

It’s my middle name: The Russian form of Catherine is Ekaterina. Vic shrugged. No one’s called me by the Russian form of any of my names for years.

I like it. Ming grinned. I wonder what else he has on you?

Doc wasn’t quite sure of the point of the exchange, but the fact Ming was willing to joke told him that her diagnosis was the same as his cursory inspection. Vic’s cousin was going to be all right. Unfortunately, that still brought up more questions than it answered.

Grabbing a stool, he moved it over beside the surgical bed and sat down on the other side of the patient from Vic. I know you must have been through a lot, but you have to admit that when someone shows up at my door covered in pigs’ blood it’s bound to raise a few questions.

"Da, Lyushkov, Viktor struggled to speak. NKVD after me. Had to hide in slaughterhouse."

NKVD agents are here? That surprised Doc. He knew the Soviets had spies everywhere, but usually they didn’t send people after escapees unless they were very important.

Lyushkov agents, Viktor whispered harshly. Trying to keep his secrets. Talos army.

What do you mean? Talos army? Doc knew the name from Greek Mythology, but surely Talos was just a story.

Giant iron automatons. Viktor coughed, and Vic quickly gave him a glass of water, holding it so he could take a few sips. He gave her a quick nod and then cleared his throat.

"Blagodarya Ekkie."

Doc gave him a few moments to recover and then gestured for Viktor to continue.

"Was in gulag near Irkutsk when giant figures fifty feet tall stomped camp flat. Barely escaped with life. While was lying half-dead in remains of camp people got out of giants and talked. Far East head of NKVD, man called Lyushkov, sent them to test machines by destroying camp. Giants burn most of camp with flamethrowers but I fell in well.

After giants left, I climbed out. Made way to China. Russian community in Shanghai told me where Ekkie was. They got me on freighter and I worked my way to New York. Am here now.

Doc let out a long low breath. That sounds like quite a trip, but it doesn’t explain the pigs’ blood.

NKVD had agents in Shanghai; must have found me from camp records. When when ship reached New York were waiting for me. I snuck off ship and hid but they found me. Men in iron suits chase me to slaughterhouse district. I hide in trough of pigs’ blood until dark then make way here.

From the look of things Vic believed everything her cousin was saying, but Doc didn’t feel so trusting. The man was probably her cousin, but his story was more than a little thin. Oh well, the man was likely to be staying around for a while, so he was sure they could find answers soon enough. The real question was the men in iron suits.

Iron suits weren’t something he expected from the Soviets; they were more likely to throw numbers at a problem than technology. That is, if they were anything more than suits of armor. It was a puzzle, but not enough of one to catch his attention for now.

If you don’t mind, I’ll go back to my chess game. Without more information, he wanted something more to hold his attention so he didn’t worry away at a problem that might not have a solution yet.

Ming waved him off, while Vic and her cousin were deep in a whispered conversation in Russian.

Back in the lounge he had almost reached the chess table where Gus sat waiting patiently, when the radio interrupted his concentration:

We interrupt tonight’s broadcast for this breaking news brief. More than two hundred people are trapped inside Saint Nicholas Orthodox Cathedral on 97th Street by a gang of men in black armor. Police are on the scene as we speak. Stay tuned to KNYC for updates when we have them. Now, back to our regularly scheduled program.

Gilly, get the suits. We’re going to church.

Vic hung on for dear life as Ming dumped the clutch of the panel van. Normally she or Gilly would be driving, keeping Ming safely away from the big straight eight with three hundred supercharged horsepower under the hood. That wasn’t an option tonight, because the white sides proudly emblazoned with the name Cibola Holdings hid one of Doc’s latest inventions: powered armor.

The name was silly, but Vic liked the idea. Combining Van Houten’s strength enhancement servos with a suit of armor; sounded like a ton of fun. According to Doc, the suit made her strong enough to out arm-wrestle Gus, without hurting mobility. Doc and Gilly had similar suits, while Gus insisted he was strong enough that he didn’t need one. The good news was that at least so far Doc seemed to be right about the mobility. She couldn’t quite scratch her back in the suit, but she could come a lot closer than with any other protective gear she had ever worn.

The catch was that the suit weighed a hundred pounds and the accumulators only lasted about twenty minutes once the system kicked in. Which was why Ming was driving and Vic was stuck in the back with her gauntleted hands wrapped around a grab bar.

At least there’ll be a priest to give us last rites, Vic muttered.

What was that? Ming’s voice in her earphones reminded Vic that they were all hooked into a telephone loop.

Nothing, dear. Vic swallowed her words. Ming really wasn’t a bad driver, and it wasn’t her fault that Vic hated riding in the back where she couldn’t see anything.

Just then the truck bounced over a curb hard enough to rattle Vic’s teeth.

Damnit! With no way to spit behind the visor Vic swallowed the iron taste of blood from where she’d bitten her tongue.

Sorry, Ming called over the loop. Maybe you should let me drive more often.

With Gilly’s laughter in her ears, Vic focused on the job ahead. From the sounds of the traffic they were on Madison avenue, heading north. Saint Nicholas Cathedral was on East 97th, between Madison and Central Park.

Doc, we’ve got a problem, Kehla spoke up from where she was sitting in the front seat beside Ming. Police radio says the besiegers are demanding someone named Viktor Filitov, or they will burn everyone inside the cathedral alive.

That’s my cousin. Vic squirmed in her armor, squeezing the grab bar hard enough that it creaked. Quick, Ming don’t turn onto 97th. Pull in just past it and we’ll go in on foot.

Are you sure? Doc asked.

Vic nodded vigorously. If they’re making threats like that then they must have people up the alley, too. We’ll have to go in front and back at the same time.

Okay, you and Gilly go down the front; Gus and I’ll take the back.

Vic let go of the grab bar with her right hand just long enough to snap a mock salute. Aye aye, sir!

Gilly just shook his head, his features masked by his helmet. All three suits were polished gray alloy; each with a V on the helmet, breastplate, and pauldrons. Vic’s was red, Doc’s white, and Gilly’s blue. Gilly had once muttered that the suits would make it harder to tell them apart; Doc had considered it, but then pointed out that the difference in height would be enough to tell them apart. Especially since while Gilly may have been a pitcher, he was built like a linebacker.

Ming must have crossed 97th, because the van suddenly lurched right and screeched to a stop.

End of the line, folks, Vic crowed. Everybody out that’s getting out.

Flipping back the shield on the back of her right gauntlet; she closed the switch that kicked in the accumulators and the armor hummed to life. Inside her helmet, a small timer ticked into life. Servos whirred as she hit the back door release and stepped out into the evening.

If it wasn’t for the police blockade closing off East 97th, it would have been just another typical New York night. People ambling up and down Madison Avenue, shopping and smoking cigarettes; all the while ignoring the flashing lights on the side block. Taking advantage of the light evening traffic, Vic dashed across the street; trusting the others to follow. Once on the sidewalk, the four huddled in one of the storefronts that made up ground level of the six-story brownstone.

Okay, Vic popped her visor to speak to the others rather than over the radio. The Cathedral’s the next building over. If I remember right, there are two small doors in the back.

Right. Doc led Gus towards the alley.

Waving at Gilly to follow, Vic headed for the corner. She had just reached the corner when a constable who looked barely old enough to enter the academy blocked her way.

Halt, he told her in a voice that sounded an octave too deep for his fresh features. Nobody gets past except on official police business. We have a situation.

That’s why we’re here. Vic replied, her smile hidden behind the visor. Without giving him a chance for a further response, she bent at the knees and leaped, putting all the suit’s augmented strength into the jump.

Before she realized what had happened, she was twenty feet off the ground and still rising. Whee!

She couldn’t control her joy at the sensation, this was even better than the autogyro because she didn’t have to sit still in a pilot’s seat. Vic grinned ferociously, there were three armored suits in front of the Cathedral: two in front of the main entrance, the third a few yards down guarding the rectory door. The police had formed a perimeter with their patrol cars, and were watching from the other side of the street.

I’ll take the first two, you take the one by the rectory. Vic told Gilly over the radio.

You sure seem to know your way around here pretty well.

I was brought up right; she answered. I go to church; sometimes.

Vic hit the ground hard right in front of the main entrance. Shock absorbers groaned as the impact drove her to one knee. At least this time she’d kept her tongue behind her teeth. Rising to her feet, she turned just in time to meet one of the besiegers on his way down the steps.

His armor looked bulkier and clumsier than hers, but there was no doubt of its power. Vic could feel the energy radiating from the suit, almost like she was standing in front of a fireplace. All her senses sharpened, even hearing and smell.

Give us Filitov or we burn the church, the figure growled in heavily accented English; raising what looked like a small bore cannon with one hand.

Go to Hell! Vic replied in Russian.

His cannon barked, the shell slamming Vic in the chest like a charging rhino. Her breastplate rang like the Liberty Bell, but somehow she kept her feet. Vic shook her head; Doc’s armor was good, but not that good. She should have been knocked flat by the impact.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Vic put all her augmented strength into a single punch. The blow rose from her toes and put three hundred horsepower and two-hundred and forty pounds into the middle of her attacker’s chest. His chest crumpled, and he flew back up the steps and slammed into the Cathedral door.

Continuing on with her follow-through, Vic dashed up the stairs to the main doors. The other besieger tried to stop her but she just threw him aside like a child’s doll. The moment she touched his suit Vic felt another rush of energy. Something pulled loose inside her suit but she ignored it. Heart pounding, she ripped open the doors and charged into the Cathedral. People scattered in every direction, but all she could think of was the rush of power drawing her onward. Normally, she paused to take in the beautiful blue ceiling whenever she came to church. Today, it might not have existed.

Vic crossed the floor in a matter of seconds; ran through the tiring room and out the back door, sending splinters everywhere. A suited figure tried to face her, but she smashed it aside contemptuously; already on the hunt for her next target.

No sooner had the figure hit the far side of the alley than a hand landed on her shoulder. She spun to lash out, but it was Doc. Instead of striking out, she leaped, flying over the Cathedral in a single bound.  For a moment she hung in midair, only to land beside the rectory door, cracking the sidewalk like a battering ram. Digging her heels into the concrete, she whirled to face the sound of combat.

Gilly was still fighting his original opponent; to all appearances he was barely able to hold off his enemy.

A laugh bubbled up from Vic’s throat as she skipped the ten feet between her and Gilly’s opponent. Reaching out with one hand, she scruffed the man in the black power suit like an unruly kitten. Power roared up her arm and she flipped her victim into the street where he skidded to a stop against the side of a Paddy Wagon.

Blood thundered in her ears as she spun around looking for more opponents but none materialized.

On the far side of the street, the police slowly rose from their positions behind their makeshift barricade. Most had their guns drawn, and pointed at Vic. Facing the weapons of at least fifty of New York’s finest; she threw her head back and laughed.

Are you alright? Gilly had somehow managed to come up beside her before he spoke.

Never better. Vic grinned. What happened to your armor? Those mugs were pushovers.

Pushovers? Gilly added his own laughter to the radio circuit. That suit was easily twice as strong as mine.

That’s impossible, Vic replied. I just had to touch them and they fell over.

She looked up to see the police had closed up to surround them while they were talking. Come on, Gilly, let’s get out of here.

Vic leaned down to pick up Gilly and just kept going. Everything went black as the last thing she heard was her armor clattering on the pavement. 

Doc watched in amazement as Vic leaped over the Cathedral, disappearing from sight in a matter of moments. Gus, check out the one Vic hit. I’m going to check out the front.

Leaving Gus behind, Doc pushed through the broken door and into the Cathedral. The tiring room was quiet enough, but once he passed through into the sanctuary it was a different story. Hundreds of worshipers huddled in little knots, while clergy moved from group to group offering comfort. The moment people saw him, they spread apart in waves giving Doc a perfect view of Vic’s path through the Cathedral. Her heavy boot prints scarred the floor, marking a straight line to a puddle of hydraulic fluid by the main entrance. Moving at a much more sedate pace, Doc tried to figure out just how fast she’d been going. It was hard to tell exactly, but at a guess she must have been traveling at least thirty or forty miles an hour.

Just another thing to file away; along with three hundred foot leaps and tremendous bursts of strength. What had she done now?

Doc cleared the main doors to find Gilly standing over Vic’s body, surrounded by police.

What’s going on? he asked over the radio loop.

Dunno, we were talking and she just collapsed. Gilly shrugged as well as the armor allowed.

Before Doc could ask anything further, he was interrupted by a familiar figure. Just what the Hell is going on here Doctor Vandal?

Doc sighed behind his visor. Commissioner Pennyworth. Now he had two problems to deal with, and the commissioner was not fond of Vic.

He flipped back his visor to reveal his face. Yes Commissioner, what can I do for you?

You can tell me just what you and your happy little gang are doing at an active crime scene, Pennyworth blustered. You blundered into a hostage situation; people could have been killed. Look at all the property damage your Miss Frank caused…

Doc raised an eyebrow. What do you mean Miss Frank caused?

She’s the one with the red markings on her suit isn’t she? Besides, who else would it have been.

Doc had to admit Pennyworth had a point. Vic was certainly more exuberant than was strictly necessary. Unfortunately, his pause gave the commissioner another opportunity to state his case.

So, why don’t you tell me why you would just happen to find yourselves on the scene all decked out in fancy knight costumes? The commissioner thrust his jaw out pugnaciously. Please don’t try to tell me it’s just a coincidence that you happened to be here.

Commissioner, Doc replied quietly. You know as well as I do that Mayor LaGuardia deputized all of us back in ‘36; even Miss Frank.

That still doesn’t give you free rein; especially not her. Pennyworth glanced down at Vic with all the love the average man would show a particularly venomous snake.

Suddenly Ming’s voice cut in over the radio loop. Why are you still arguing with the Commissioner when Vic’s lying on the ground. Get her back here so I can take a look at her!

I’ll move her, Gilly replied. Don’t want to interrupt Doc’s kaffeeklatch.

At least one of you has some sense to go with his brains.

I’m still waiting. Pennyworth hadn’t moved. I would love to know what brought Miss Frank rampaging through here like a wild elephant.

Maybe the Spirit moved her? Gilly had flipped up his visor and knelt to pick up Vic. She may not go every Sunday, but she is a parishioner here. My pappy was a preacher, and I’ve seen people do some powerful things when the Spirit moves them.

Stop talking and start moving. Ming’s voice was growing shriller, even with the limited fidelity of the headphones.

Yes Ma’am. Gilly picked Vic up and headed for Madison.

Anyway Commissioner, Doc said calmly. It appears you have some miscreants to deal with. I’ll take Miss Frank home, and you can deal with your prisoners.

Humph, Pennyworth huffed. I suppose you’re right; but remember, I’ll be watching her.

I’m sure you will.

Dry mouth; very very dry mouth. Vic woke slowly, driven by the burning taste in the roof of her mouth. Water…

Her voice was a croak, barely audible even to her but someone must have heard because the next thing she felt was cold glass straw between her lips.

Small sips; take small sips. Vic followed instructions as Ming’s voice soothed her ears as much as the water soothed her mouth.

After drinking all that Ming would let her, and swishing the last mouthful around her teeth she finally felt strong enough to open her eyes. What happened to me?

I was hoping you could tell us. Doc spoke from an armchair against one wall of the infirmary. You put on quite a show out there. Gilly said the Spirit moved you.

The Spirit? Vic laughed, and then wished she hadn’t as the laughter trailed away into a coughing fit. It was that suit you made me. I felt like I could do anything wearing it.

Like jump the Cathedral? Ming asked.

Jump the Cathedral? What are you talking about honey? Vic shook her head. Jumping the Cathedral, that was a good one.

Doc coughed. She’s talking about the fact that you jumped to the sidewalk in front of the Cathedral from the back alley: right over the rectory. I saw it; you leaped at least three hundred feet straight up.

Three hundred feet? Vic’s jaw dropped. Three hundred feet? That suit is incredible.

Doc shook his head. It wasn’t the suit.

What do you mean, it wasn’t the suit? Vic asked incredulously. You built the damn thing to make me stronger and jump higher.

As far as I can tell, you blew out the suit before you got into the Cathedral. The accumulators were fried and there was no fluid in the servos. It was all you.

Images crashed into her brain; Saint Nicholas Cathedral from above, a man in iron armor flying across the street. Most of all, she remembered the feeling of power that had washed over her; the sense of invincibility as she practically flew over the Cathedral.

That was all me? Vic tried to sit up, but barely managed to raise her head before collapsing back to her pillow. It wasn’t the suit?

You said that already. Ming reached out and stroked her hair. It was all you.

But if I can leap tall buildings why can’t I even sit up in bed? Vic tried to make a fist, but her fingers barely moved.

As best Gus and I can tell, Doc explained. Something out there supercharged your body. By the time we got you to the van, your heart was at about a hundred and fifty beats per minute and dropping. At the rate it was falling, Ming and I figured it probably peaked around two hundred and fifty.

Vic dragged a hand over to feel her pulse. It felt fast, but not that fast. Do you have any idea what caused it?

We were hoping you could tell us. Doc steepled his fingers in front of his face. It shouldn’t have been possible, even if the suit was working.

Where’s Gus? Vic pushed herself up on her elbows; it was a strain, but she made it. He’s probably going to want to hear it, too.

No room for me in there, Gus rumbled from the doorway. Besides, I only have a few minutes. Gilly’s gone to get one of those fancy black suits from the commissioner and I want to get started on it the moment he gets back.

I’ll try not to take too long. Besides, I’m not sure how much longer I can sit up.

Lie back down then, Ming said. I’ll adjust the bed.

Thanks. Vic flopped back against the pillows while Ming bent to the wheel.

Vic waited until she was sitting almost all the way up before she began. "Everything was normal when we got out of the van. I did leap the police barricade, but I only went up about twenty-five or thirty feet.

That’s normal, right? She wrinkled her brow. I’m supposed to be able to jump twenty or thirty feet in the suit aren’t I?

That’s about right, Gus answered. You’re lighter than Doc or Gilly, but big enough that we didn’t have to cut down the servos.

Okay, I made that jump and saw the three figures guarding the doors. Being the pig I am… Vic paused and winked at Ming, I called dibs on the two by the main entrance. Once I got within about ten feet of them it felt like I was standing in front of a fireplace. I took down the pair in front of me really quickly; each time I touched one I felt stronger. Something broke loose in the armor when I entered the Cathedral, but I ignored it.

That was the servos going out, Doc told her. You blew the main hydraulics and dumped fluid all over the floor. From that point on, your armor was so much dead weight.

Vic shrugged. Honestly, I didn’t notice. I was all charged up and wanted to get as many of those guys as I could.

Her eyes went cold as she remembered what happened next. I broke the door, didn’t I?

Smashed it to flinders, Gus said. Broke it into teeny tiny little bits.

As I told the Commissioner, you were exuberant. Gilly said the Spirit moved you. Doc leaned forward in his seat. I’m not sure which explanation Pennyworth found convincing, but at least he didn’t arrest you.

As if I would have let him. Ming crossed her arms. He’s not taking my Vic.

Vic smiled; it was always fun when Ming got feisty.

I remember hitting the last one on your side, Vic told Doc. "It was such a feeling of power. Strength rushed through me, and I could feel the last one pulling me. I leaped the Cathedral and took away Gilly’s toy. Next thing I know I was telling Gilly how great the suit was and then things went black.

I don’t remember anything else until I woke up here. Something pulled at Vic’s attention, like a tingle in the back of her neck. Gilly’s back.

Are you sure? Gus asked.

Very, Vic replied, enjoying the warmth emanating from the rising elevator. He’s in the elevator and has some of the suits with him.

Ming stepped closer and put one hand on Vic’s wrist as she flipped her other hand over look at her watch. Shush, you.

Vic sighed, and let Ming take her pulse.

She’s picked up five beats, and it’s much stronger.

Doc rose to his feet like a panther. Ming, keep an eye on her; Gus and I are taking the suits to Cibola.

Huh, what? Vic stared at the sudden hive of activity. What’s going on? Why are you moving the suits? I’m feeling better.

That’s the problem. Ming reached toward the lowering wheel. Last time you were near those suits you got stronger than Gus and then collapsed like a sack of rice.

I don’t mind being stronger than Gus, Vic grinned evilly. I’d love to see his face after beating him at arm wrestling.

But I wouldn’t love to see your face turn even whiter than it already is. Ming cupped Vic’s face in her hands. "We almost lost you Vic; your whole body nearly shut down before we could get you out of the suit. Doc was giving you artificial respiration the whole way back, and I went through three vials of adrenaline keeping your heart pumping.

Whatever’s in those suits may have let you leap tall buildings, but coming off it almost killed you. Ming’s eyes flashed with unshed tears. I’m not letting that happen again if I can help it.

Vic wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, as Ming leaned against her and shook. It’s okay hun, I’m right here with you.

Ming didn’t say anything but she stopped shaking quite as much. Vic just held on, letting her lover deal with her emotions. As Ming leaned against her Vic bit her lip, worrying it with her teeth. It must have been serious for Ming to react like this. Normally she just teased Vic about being reckless; this time she hadn’t said a word about it. After a few minutes Ming lifted her head and Vic wiped the tears away from her brown eyes.

Don’t worry, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.

Ming sniffled, then kissed Vic on the cheek. I know, but you gave me a fright.

Hoping to change the subject, Vic stroked Ming’s back. How’s Viktor? And what about the others, are they alright.

Ming straightened up, going back into Doctor mode; although she did leave her hand on Vic’s shoulder. "Your cousin is fine. He’s sleeping in the guest room and Shard said he hasn’t moved all night. It’s only Monday morning.

How about everyone else? Did the suits do anything to them? Vic grabbed Ming’s wrist. Are they okay?

Doc and Gilly are fine; neither of them had a reaction. The gorillas didn’t either. I never got near them. Ming patted Vic’s shoulder with her free hand. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. You’re the only one who felt anything.

Vic squeezed Ming’s wrist and then let go; laying her head back on the pillow she closed her eyes. Thanks.

As she tried to sleep, all Vic could think of was Shard’s tentacled face in the regeneration chamber beneath Antarctica where the alien had told her a secret about herself even Vic hadn’t known: You’re not human.

Doc moved out of Gilly’s way as the smaller man returned from the darkroom with the recording camera. The big black camera had an advanced multi-bulb electronic flash Doc had invented a few years earlier, and a seventy-two exposure roll of medium format film. The two suits Doc had managed to pry loose from Commissioner Pennyworth’s evidence locker lay on a large steel table under a set of carbon arcs.

Working with practiced efficiency, Gilly snapped off three photos of each suit, muttering under his breath the whole time. Nice of them to give us the most busted up ones. Vic really did a number on the breastplate here, but the other one looks good. No smell of hydraulic oil.

Gilly snapped his last shot and turned back to Doc. Thanks for staying out of my way, boss. I’ll try to return the favor.

Doc nodded as he went to join Gus who had already rolled the tool chest over to the table. Ever the fashion plate, the gorilla was wearing a starched white lab coat over pressed overalls. Doc had never quite understood why it was so important, but it certainly mattered to Gus. Shaking his head, Doc began his examination.

The first thing he noticed about the suits was how crude they were. The armors he and Gus had made were precision instruments; each one measured and built to fit its owner like a bespoke suit. In comparison, these suits looked like they’d been made by someone who couldn’t measure closer than an eighth of an inch. There were gaps everywhere; no two pieces fit flush and nothing lined up with anything else. Where his suits had high performance hydraulics driving the exoskeleton; these ones were cable-actuated and so sloppy that every move must have had at least a quarter-second of lag.

What the Hell is that? Gilly pointed at a cable tensioner.

From the looks of things, it appears designed to adjust the muscle cables for limbs of different lengths, Gus explained. He peeled off the damaged breastplate to reveal the interior cavity. I’d say this suit could fit anyone from about five-seven to a hair over six feet.

So they could just draft any peasant to fill it? Gilly asked.

A bit crudely put, Gus sniffed, but I would have to say an accurate description.

While Gus and Gilly were discussing the first suit, Doc examined the other. It was in better shape than the first, though the tolerances were just as loose. At least this one hadn’t had to be pried off its wearer. Have you seen a power source yet, Gus?

Not yet. I think it must be built into the shoulders. I don’t see anywhere else they could put it.

Lifting an arm, Doc traced the cable from the wrist back to the shoulder; looking for the power source. The basic layout reminded him of Chevy or Ford cable brakes with plenty of mechanical advantage. Simple and strong, as well as easily adjustable. Taking a small prybar he eased the tip under the closest pauldron and levered it free.

What’s that? Gilly leaned in close and took three quick shots; pushing the flash to the maximum.

That was a very small electric motor with extremely steep gearing. Only about two inches in diameter and an inch deep, it looked completely out of place against the rest of the suit. Gently lifting it out of its housing, Doc pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and took a closer look. Fine coils with tens of thousands of windings surrounded a perfectly balanced core. Where the rest of the suit was lucky to have tolerances of an eighth of an inch; this motor looked like it was specced to the closest mil. It was powerful, too. If Doc read it right, he was looking at at least two hundred horsepower for one arm alone.

It’s the shoulder motor, Doc finally answered. A pair of eighth inch heavy duty leads led into the shoulder, and Doc traced them the rest of the way under the armor to a horizontal cylinder about eight inches long and three inches in diameter nestled in a complex wiring harness.

After a fruitless hour tracing circuits, Doc came to the only possible conclusion. This dull gray cylinder was the power source.

Lifting it out of its housing, he carried it over to the nearest workbench. No sooner had he set it down than a chattering noise caught his attention: The Geiger counter was screaming.

Faster than most people could think, Doc slapped a lead blanket over the cylinder; cutting off the worst of the radiation. Instantly, the Geiger chatter dropped down to a slow ticking. Keeping the cylinder safely covered by the blanket, Doc moved it over to a radiation-shielded isolation box and locked it inside.

What the Hell, Doc? Gilly asked. Didn’t they expect those guys to ever have kids?

Even if they didn’t, Kehla and I would like the opportunity to propagate. Gus returned from the far side of the room; where he’d retreated the moment the Geiger went off.

Doc shook his head, thinking. "It’s not that bad; maybe three times as much as you’d get at the top of Everest. Besides, the suit’s shielded.

He headed back over to the open suit and took another look at the wiring harness that had held the cylinder. There were a lot more windings than he would have expected for a simple harness. Some of them didn’t even connect to any of the motors. Doc whistled softly; it was shielding. The radiation generated eddy currents in the windings that shunted the energy into its own shielding. More radiation, meant more shielding. It was brilliant, and completely at odds with the tractor-style design that characterized the rest of the suit.

Hey Doc? Gilly paused his photographic record. Can you check the other suit with the Geiger? I know this one’s fascinating and all, but the other one’s more banged up.

Sure, Doc replied. There shouldn’t be too much, but it never hurts to double-check.

Wheeling the Geiger over, he unshipped the wand and opened the other suit’s access panel. This time, the reaction was immediate. This cylinder was throwing off a lot more power than the first one he’d discovered. Without the shielding, this one would be dangerous. He quickly closed the access panel and ran the Geiger wand over the opening. It was safe, barely above background.

Gus, grab the lead suit, Doc ordered. When I open the isolation chamber I want you to move this suit in as fast as possible.

Affirmative. The gorilla donned the heavy protective suit with surprising speed while Gilly continued making his photographic record.

No sooner had Gus got into the suit than Doc moved into position beside the isolation chamber. Nodding to Gus, Doc undogged the seal and flipped open the hatch. The moment the hatch gaped wide, Gus one-handed the suit and crossed the gap in under three seconds. As soon as the gorilla had withdrawn his hand Doc slammed the hatch and spun the lock shut.

How bad is it, Doc? Gilly asked.

Not too bad, but not something I’d want around if we didn’t need it. I’d say that would be a lethal dose after a month behind the shielding; less than a week on its own.

So how long before it contaminates the chamber? Gus asked, settling the radiation suit on his shoulders, and not showing any signs of wanting to remove it. Of course, the hundred-pound suit didn’t weigh down a silverback the same way it would a human.

It should be fine for a couple of months; once we’re done we can always seal them in lead-lined concrete. Radioactive waste wasn’t something Doc thought about much; it was a solved problem for the Archonate and Earth’s nuclear technology had barely entered the theoretical stage.

Gus finally removed the radiation suit, and came over to the isolation chamber. Between the two of them, they used the internal manipulators to move the damaged suit over to the closest pair of lead-lined gloves so that they could work on it.

With everything sealed away in the isolation chamber the work went much slower, but Doc was able to focus on the two power cylinders rather than the suits as a whole. Each cylinder weighed about ten pounds and looked to be coated with a thin layer of lead. Taking the less active one as his first target, Doc brought it up to the window. A closer examination showed a tight joint an inch from one end, which appeared to be held on with six countersunk bolts. Luckily, the lead around the bolts was soft, and Doc was quickly able to clear it away from the six heads. It was only about two minutes’ work with a socket wrench and all six bolts were resting beside the cylinder.

A little experimentation told Doc the end twisted off; interestingly, it was left-hand thread. One more thing for the lab notes. The moment the end came off the internal count doubled. Doc let out a deep breath; this was the less active sample.

After motioning Gus and Gilly to the back of the room, Doc thrust his hand into the glove and carefully tilted it over to release the contents. A small black pellet in a wire holder fell out. This was the power source. Moving carefully, despite the protective shielding, he took a closer look at the pellet. It was about an inch long and a half-inch in diameter. On close examination, only one end was truly black; the rest was more a dark gray.

Leaving the pellet for the moment. Doc turned his attention to the wire holder. Rather than a simple wire basket, it was a complex arrangement of thermocouples and tiny tubes and transformers. Something about it tickled his brain. It was familiar, though he hadn’t seen anything like it in a very long time. The ticking Geiger caught his attention, and it all snapped into place. It was a radioisotope generator. The suit was nuclear powered, and nobody on Earth had the technology.

Vic woke up with a start, blinking her eyes as she hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep. The ceiling looked wrong, but then she remembered she was in the infirmary instead of her bedroom. She tried to rise, but it felt like she weighed three hundred pounds. Taking hold of the bed rails in both hands, she pulled herself up to a sitting position.

Vic? Ming was sitting in the armchair, looking half awake. You’re awake.

Yeah, did anyone get the number of that train that hit me? Vic shook her head, gazing blearily about. Whatever strength she’d gained the last time she woke up seemed to have vanished completely. Her head was pounding like the time she’d tried to drink Gilly under the table and failed miserably.

No, you fell asleep around noon yesterday and I’ve just been keeping an eye on you. Ming smiled wanly, but her red eyes gave it the lie.

What’s wrong? Vic tried to sound like a stern teacher, but failed miserably. I know that look, why were you crying.

Because we don’t know what’s wrong with you.

I’m fine. Vic smiled. I just overdid it in the suit and now I need a few days’ rest to recover.

You’re not fine. Ming rose and walked over to hold Vic’s hand. Your blood looks like you have anemia, and you’re barely able to sit up.

Well, if it’s already Tuesday, I’m probably just hungry. Vic’s stomach rumbled. Are you planning on starving me to death?

Let me get you something. Ming kissed her on the cheek, and headed towards the kitchen. Hope you like liver and onions.

Vic laughed, the liver she could do without but grilled onions sounded good. At the very least