Post by captcleghorn on Aug 18, 2013 18:30:47 GMT -5
Ultimate Seven Soldiers of Victory: MCML
Issue 1: "The Future's So Bright... "
December 31, 1949 - The Century Association, 7 West 43rd St, Manhattan
"As we enter the second half of the 1900s, we can't help but to look back upon the previous fifty years, seeing what were probably the bloodiest fifty years in the world's history. America proved victorious, though. Our people banded together and succeeded in ridding the world of shocking and unspeakable evil. We paid a price, but we grew and matured as a people because of it. The benefit of our sacrifice and struggle is that we are a free nation, one which will, by the year 2000 walk upon not only the moon, but the planet Mars as well. It's a proud moment for America as we enter what appears to be a new Golden Age."
So read the front-page editorial on tomorrow's Sunday New York Globe-Leader, written by the newspaper's publisher Lee Travis.
Travis was currently at the Century Association, "the most unspeakably respectable club in the United States." where the movers and shakers of New York City prepare to welcome in the New Year. Also among the celebrated attendees is Lee Travis' chauffer/assistant Wing How. Travis also was the costumed adventurer called the Crimson Avenger. Both Travis and Wing, who sometimes served as his sidekick Wing, are dressed in formal attire, befitting both the festive occasion and its luxurious location. The furnishings are exquisite, each room had a different appeal and yet each blended in with and complimented the other rooms.
Travis took a sip from his drink and somehow, always managed to leave it somewhere. To the untrained observer, the newspaper man was doing enough drinking to prepare himself for another prohibition. A more trained eye spotted Wing How picking up discarded glasses picking up after his employer. But to the trained eye, Travis sipped from many different glasses all with different colored drinks. Where he looked to others to be heavily imbibing, he was actually playing a ruse. He appeared to be intoxicated but remained cold sober. It was meant to get everyone around him off of their guards.
"Mister Travis," Wing whispered to Lee, "how much longer must we remain here? It's distasteful enough to sit through these dandyish social events when a charity is being supported, but this, this is simply extreme self-gratification."
"Wing, it's New Year's Eve. We, as a planet, are entering a new decade, a fresh start after the intense horrors of the last twelve years. The least you could do is to relax, get a glass of champagne and toast with the rest of us at midnight."
"I'll pass tonight, thank you. I doubt a Chinaman with a drink here would be taken with anything but panic. But I will hold you to that, seven weeks from now in Chinatown. The year of the Tiger, a real New Year's celebration."
About to answer, Travis was distracted by a commotion at the door. Sylvester Pemberton, the up and coming young heir to the Pemburton fortune. He is in his early twenties, handsome, tall, easily the highest quality tuxedo at the gala. The young man fielded questions and comments like a pro, obviously accustomed to the fame and attention. As Sylvester attracted the crowd, Travis slipped by, now free of the attention, to guide Pemburton's companion, Pat Dugan, to the bar. Dugan was a large man looking textbook Irish red hair, light skin, barely buried temper.
Sylvester Pemburton was the young costumed hero known as the Star-Spangled Kid. His companion Pat was known as Stripsey. Both heroes were affiliated with the Crimson Avenger and Wing as part of the costumed team the Seven Soldiers of Victory. We'll get to the other members of the team later.
"Pat," Lee Travis offered him a glass and a bottle of beer, "what have you been up to lately? I hear you've been in on Preston Tucker's team..."
Dugan gave Travis a stare. "You heard? The reporter and artist you had there from the Globe didn't keep you well informed?" The newspaperman looked away for a moment with a short quiet whistle. "Yeah, I know you're being fair. Hell, I figure you'd be happy to see him come back and thrive." Dugan placed the empty glass directly on the mahogany table without a coaster and took a drink from the bottle. A black attendant ran and picked the glass off of the table. He looked at Dugan, silently asking if he wanted the glass. After seeing Dugan shake his head, the busboy quickly ran the glass back into the kitchen.
"So, are we it? Or is there going to be a 'Seven Soldiers' New Year's Adventure'?"
"You might be surprised, Pat. Greg's down at the Waldorf-Astoria, doing the Lombardo show. He pulled a few strings. Justin's due to arrive soon. Tex and Danny, they have plans. Tex is doing research and Danny's got a date."
"You good?" Dugan offered his empty bottle, "I'm buying this round."
"It's an open bar, and no, I'm fine, thank you."
"OK," Dugan answered and turned to the bartender, "A Rheingold, please."
Travis looked around, seeing Sylvester with a small crowd of fawning onlookers, Wing with a scowl on his face, and Dugan with a beer, decided to make the rounds. Although he often despised being the focus of attention, the lack of attention did make him a bit disappointed. Lee looked around and spotting a familiar face, went over and made his greetings.
"Sam," Travis exclaimed, "Happy New Year!" Sam, born Isaac Samuel Roseman, writer for the New York Sun, turned and almost looked depressed to see him.
"Travis, yes, yes, Happy New Year." was the rote response, "how are you doing?" the reporter asked.
"Fine, thanks for asking. Sam, I'd really like you to reconsider my job offer. I need a man who can write terse, succinct copy. You can say in 300 words what most of these kids couldn't do with 500."
"Oh, please. Can you imagine an old anti-new Dealer like me working for a bleeding heart like yourself? No more New York Sun, now it's the New York World-Telegram and Sun. More damn names than good writers. I can write but damned if I'll see any prime space or many column inches. Could you see me writing for one of your causes?"
"You know the business, you know how to write, Sam"
"Bull, Lee. Your paper supports causes and does a damn good job of it. But they're seldom my causes. This isn't my world anymore, Lee. Soon, it may not be yours either." Sam took a sip from his half-full highball glass, "I haven't had a good bourbon since before prohibition."
"You know, Sam, for someone so good at getting answers, you're not very good at hiding them."
"I want the mayor's scandal. You want me, I want it." The reporter drained his glass. "Not negotiable, Happy New Year, Lee."
"Lee Travis!" a voice boomed out as Sam Roseman took the interruption as an excuse to leave.
"Sylvester Pemberton," Lee held out his hand with a smile on his face. In his mind, he was screaming at a stupid kid reminding him about secret identities. Sylvester came up with a quick wink before continuing the conversation.
"Mr. Travis, I'm curious as to why there isn't more coverage in your fine paper on Pemburton Industries expansion in the deep South. The construction of plants is certainly going to do wonders to curb the rising post-war unemployment rate..." There was a taunting flare in Sylvester's eye. The young man knew there were two other people involved in the conversation. Most everyone else saw a newspaper publisher and a rich young businessman. In reality, they also were a seasoned superhero team leader and a recently matured teen adventurer.
"Mr. Pemburton, I can assure you that when your company creates jobs for unemployed people, the Globe-Leader will certainly report the story." Travis' voice dropped to a whisper, "You know, I can remember when you barely came up to my lapel."
"That was a look for you, a red cape and a domino mask over your work clothes." The young man paused. "Happy New Year, Lee."
"Happy New Year, Sylvester."
"It's 11:30! The forties have only thirty minutes to live!' A cheer went up through the floor after the impromptu announcement.
"Will Justin be here?" Sylvester asked.
"He's working with the mounted units down in Times Square. After that, he's supposed to come up to the roof with Winged Victory and make a brief appearance." Lee rubbed his chin, "speaking of roofs, is the Star Rocket Racer handy?"
"Sure is, and can that rod wail. We've, well, Pat's managed to add a real top to the car so it can mask itself as an ordinary vehicle. Once we take off, then we can pull the roof back and slide the bubble up. Roadbound limo to flying vehicle in less than 90 seconds." Lee Travis finished his first drink and smiled. He shook Sylvester's hand and actually believed they could celebrate New Year's without a super-criminal threatening the good of the nation.
As they hoped, the midnight hour came and went, the ball fell in Times Square with nothing unexpected happening. It was now 1950, the future was here. Lee Travis looked around the Century Association suite they were in and felt comfortable. Even his sidekick Wing looked a bit more relaxed. Sylvester was making his own rounds, a practice Lee had been using for years to find potential problems and to perform his civilian identity's job. The four heroes collected and went up to the roof; standing on the ledge they watched a knight on a winged and flying horse take a couple of loops around the building before landing to a throng of cheers.
Sir Justin smiled and effortlessly slid off of Winged Victory. He offered the horse a carrot which was eagerly consumed. "What ho," the knight offered, "I cannot understand what why you Manhattanites have so much difficulty finding a 'parking space." Justin smiled at the laughs his comment had gotten. The knight's fellow heroes smiled as well. It was a glorious evening and they thought nothing could have interrupted the festivities.
That is, until an attendant came to the roof and told Lee Travis he had a phone call. Lee smiled and politely recused himself from the rooftop crowd and went downstairs. Wing How's face was stoic, he showed no emotion despite his immense inward joy. At last he and Mr. Travis would be leaving this overly swanky soiree. The other Soldiers of Victory were hoping, albeit selfishly, that it was a Globe-Leader newspaper problem and the team wouldn't be needed.
Justin, the time-displaced Shining Knight, was perfectly happy to bask in the admiration of New York City during a world-wide holiday. Sylvester was making headway in expanding his own personal business network of contacts and Pat Dugan, although being somewhat uncomfortable out of his usual social class, was pleased Sylvester was filling his pockets with business cards and not just girls' phone numbers.
When Travis appeared on the roof again, the team could see the result. It was a Seven Soldiers of Victory situation.
"We need to be in Troy by dawn," the publisher/team leader said quietly.
"Greece?" Sylvester asked.
"Troy, New York."
"Can we vote for Greece?" Dugan asked, more seriously than not. There were slight smiles of agreement.
"Tex is working at Rensselaer Polytechnic and he's found something. It would be best to get there and cover any potential problems before the sun comes up. Pat, can Wing and I grab a ride with you in the Star-Rocket racer?" Travis explained, fully in Crimson Avenger mode, despite his formal civilian dress.
"Whilst you four fly to Troy, I'll go and gather Gregory from the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. My celebrity should allow me access to him. I can apprise him of the situation and the two of us will meet you and Thomas up north." Sir Justin added before giving his steed, Winged Victory a gentle rub on his nose. "I'm going to be off then, as I expect we'll need more time than the near magical flying Racer. Fare-thee-well, fellow knights!"
Justin, the Shining Knight, climbed onto his horse. As the horse's large white wings started flapping, the rooftop revelers, held onto their hats and the Knight rose above them, slowly turning towards the Waldorf-Astoria.
Wing How watched the horse fly into the air and thought about using a flying horse to gather a team member who was less than ten blocks away.
January 1, 1950 - Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, 301 Park Ave, Manhattan
Justin rose gracefully on the back of his horse Winged Victory. The skyscrapers of Manhattan made his path extremely clear. Park Avenue was a wide thoroughfare with hundreds of thousands of people traversing it daily. Over the last few years, Justin wondered what could possibly have made him think of medieval London as a true city of any sort. Winged Victory gave a bit of frustration as he was urged to descend. The horse had had enough of the crowds tonight, but obeyed its master by gliding smoothly to the street at 301 Park Avenue.
Leaving the reins of Victory with a police officer, Justin strode into the Hotel Lobby, making his way past the lobby to the Grand Ballroom. The music was glorious. In addition to the skill and talent of the band, the spirit of the location, the participants and the time added so much to the entertainment. Justin smiled and found himself enjoying the music. But, he had a job to do. He started looking around for Gregory Sanders, the Vigilante. Like Justin, Greg had pretty much given up the idea of a second "civilian" identity. As Justin was always the Shining Knight, Greg was always the Vigilante.
Justin spotted him, dressed in his costume of denim trousers, navy blue shirt, and bright red bandanna. Around the hero was a small entourage of women, some of them accompanied by a jealous male companion. Greg quickly broke off the conversation when he saw Justin. After all, wouldn't a mystery man singing cowboy in New York City be surprised when a knight in full golden armor showed up?
After the war, Vigilante and the Shining Knight had grown closer. Like many pairs of good friends, the two were opposites in so many ways. Justin was an anachronism, a millennium out of his own time, living in a far future he still had troubles understanding. In some ways, Greg was the most grounded of the Seven Soldiers. Pat Dugan had to adjust to fit in with the higher social layers of the Pemburton foundation. The Vigilante, as he preferred to be called, had no need to fit in. Vig could be Ted Williams refusing to wear a neck-tie.
Greg Sanders looked at Justin and as with the other Soldiers of Victory, he saw a mission. The blue garbed cowboy turned back to his entourage and smiled asking for telephone numbers from any single woman. "I'm being summoned to save someone from terrible danger but please, you all should continue enjoying the new years festivities."
Giving the crowd a wave, the Vigilante and Shining Knight left the Ballroom. As they walked out, Vig said the Justin, "It's just as well, fiddlin' like I do isn't a good match for the big band sound those Canucks do."
"There was a problem?"
"Not if you enjoy Auld Lang Syne on a fiddle, there wasn't. Anyway, are you riding your horse or do you need my bitch seat."
"It's called a pillion, isn't it, Gregory. I think Winged Victory will enjoy this Troy. It certainly sounds much more rural and to his liking. You're complacent with the location? The others seemed disturbed by the distant location."
"It's aces with me, I can't wait to burn some rubber with my cycle before it snows. Meet you up at Rensselaer afore dawn? See you there." And Vigilante crossed the street, got onto his motorcycle, started it, revved the engine a couple of times before he pulled onto Park Avenue and headed north.
Justin climbed onto his horse and asked for a little bit of room before riding Victory out onto Park Avenue. Turning, the horse started trotting north on Park Avenue, wings starting to flap. A bit of wind gushed down the street and horse and rider rose off the street and into the air. Victory made a loud winnie and shook his head as they flew off into the night.
January 1, 1950 - Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute Troy, NY
People who live in and spent the vast majority of their time in large urban areas often fail to realize that it's usually considerably colder outside those areas. Perhaps this is why the four heroes getting out of the Star-Rocket Racer shivered despite their overcoats. That was the situation at Rensselaer Polytechnic 5 am, New Years Day.
"Well, can you imagine someplace so distant, so far north?" Sylvester Pemburton asked.
"That's what's wrong with you city boys, water thin blood. Oh, and Happy New Year!" Thomas N. Thomas came out of an RPI Chemistry department building. Thomas was also known as the hero called TNT. Like his partners, he had been active as a costumed adventurer since the beginning of the decade, just before the war. He was a chemistry teacher who with a particularly gifted student, Daniel Dunbar, had discovered a combination of radioactive isotopes which, when used in a certain fashion bestowed upon Thomas and his student superhuman powers.
"So, Tom," Travis asked, "why do you need the Soldiers?"
"Got room for one more in the racer? If you can get me a few miles northwest, I can show exactly what I'm talking about." The Star-Rocket Racer was filled up and once again rose into the sky heading off into a wooded area outside of the city. Using the racer's headlights, a large gash in the ground could be seen, ending in a closed clump of trees. Landing the racer, the team exited the vehicle and walked into the heavy brush. The long blackened scar in the ground ended at a large metal vehicle, about the size of a bus. It appeared to be a small to midsized air ship.
Upon examination, the craft looked to hold about six passengers, seemingly human sized and shaped. Screens were cracked and broken. Control panels still smoked and the occasional spark could be seen. Large parts of the ship were missing. Lee Travis and Thomas spoke about details, making sure the areas could be cordoned off without attracting attention. Pat Dugan was fixated on the ship and its various pieces. What is was supposed to have done and what it still might be capable of doing. It was after midnight, 19 hours later before he actually took a break to relieve himself.
The Shining Knight and the Vigilante arrived as the sun started to come up. Despite the day being both a holiday and a Sunday. With a few calls it was possible to cordon off the area. A cover story about joy-riding hot-rodders was created. The spaceship was loaded into the back of a tractor trailer and kept under lock and key.
While Travis and Sylvester made the arrangements to explain away the crash�s results, Thomas and Dugan were intent on the ship itself. Dan Dunbar, the last of the Soldiers known as Dynamite, arrived just before noon. Dunbar was finishing up his doctorate in Physics at MIT and was on schedule to defend his thesis before the academic year's end. Joining the two other Soldiers, the student quickly realized they were far out of their depth.
"I don't know," Danny said, "Viki or John Blatt, MIGHT be able to help us. If there was anybody, though, it'd be Carter Nichols out of Gotham City."
"That crackpot? He's wrong as much as he�s right. Why not von Braun, or one of those other ex-Nazi rocket scientists?" Stripsey added.
"Von Braun would give his left nut to play with this baby, but if he understood this, we'd be in orbit right now." Thomas gave his protege a disapproving look. It was still unclear if it was the salty language or Dunbar's studying of nuclear physics instead of chemistry that bothered him more. It could be the fact that Danny Dunbar was no longer his sidekick, but a full grown man and hero in his own right.
"I've got a couple of contacts at GE in Schenectady. We can fly Nichols up there and use the plant, Dugan offered. "I'll make some calls and we should be able to start tomorrow, Tuesday at the latest."
"It's after midnight, Pat, it's Monday the 2nd already."
"It is? Well then, I am going to bed. Tom, there had better be a place to get a hearty breakfast and a cuppa coffee in this God-forsaken boondock town." The ginger-haired Dugan stood to his full 6 foot plus height, stretched his arms out and yawned.
"Am I keeping you awake, Pat?" Lee Travis walked into the trailer in full Crimson Avenger regalia. The tight red elastic fabric hugged every muscle on Travis' body. Despite being 39 years old, the publisher of the NY Globe-Leader was clearly in excellent physical condition.
"No, we're not doing this in the monkey suits, are we?" Thomas may have said it, but in reality, most of the other soldiers shared the same sentiment.
"Costumes get better results than rich businessmen calling in favors. Besides, they might think we're the Justice Society and fall all over themselves trying to help. Get some sleep, soldiers, it's going to be a long week."
January 6, 1950 - General Electric Schenectady, NY
At the General Electric plant in Schenectady, New York the Soldiers have spent the week doing what each of them could to help the research into the mysterious space ship. The bulk of the work was being done by Nichols, TNT, Dynamite and Stripsey. Wing had found a small group of Chinese scientists who had immigrated during the War and spent the week mostly with them. The Star Spangled Kid and Crimson Avenger handled relations with GE. Vigilante and the Knight, however, had precious little to do. Occasionally Greg would sing in the company cafeteria, but he and Justin were bored. Greg decided to work on Justin's knowledge of current conversational English.
And so Friday morning the two were in an employee rest room. Vigilante was talking to the Knight: "Sartre, the French philosopher says 'To do is to be'. The Greek philosopher Socrates says'To be is to do'. Frank Sinatra says 'Do be do be do'. It's funny because the first two are serious philosophers and Sinatra's a singer."
"I don't understand, Gregory, but if you say it's funny, I believe you."
"To do is to be," Viigilante said in a stuffy voice. He followed with "To be is to do." in a different but equally stuffy voice. Then he crooned, "do be do be dooo" in his best singing voice, which in reality wasn't half-bad. "It's the inflection, Justin, and the difference in seriousness despite the similarity of words."
"I still don't get it." Justin said turning for the door.
As the two mystery men were leaving the bathroom, a young technical writer exited a stall, say a cowboy telling a knight a joke about Sinatra. He shook his head and wondered how he ever let his brother talk him into working at GE. He also figured 5:00 couldn't get there fast enough.
Later that day (luckily as the situation was becoming more and more awkward), in a General Electric conference room, Carter Nichols addressed the eight members of the Seven Soldiers of Victory. Dynamite and Stripsey stood in front of the room with the scientist and the others sat around a large wooden table. The Crimson Avenger sat at the table, nervously tapping his fingers on the table top.
"Are we all here?" Nichols asked.
"Yes, yes, we are." The Avenger answered, "What have you found, Doctor?"
"It's an amazingly simple idea, ocean going ships on our planet have lifeboats. These smaller vessels allow passengers and crew to abandon the ship should it become severely damaged. Although these smaller vessels lack the speed and capacity of the mother ship, the boats keep the passengers alive." Nichols expounded.
"So, you're saying that the little green men aboard this ship all hopped off on lift rafts?"
�Actually, I think they�re blue.�
�Professor, are these aliens on planet Earth?� The Crimson Avenger was barely concealing his growing frustration. Surely the aliens would stick out regardless of skin color.
�Why, yes, wasn�t I clear?�
�Professor,� Vigilante asked, can you pinpoint the aliens� locations a bit more detailed than on planet Earth?�
�Yes, yes, I can.� And then a short pause of silence followed by a few harsh stares.
�Oh, you want to know where they actually are? There�s still a degree of uncertainty here. Without a proper vector analysis of trajectories, speeds and weather conditions at the time of launch, an exact location is impossible to calculate.�
�How close can you come, then?�
�Judging by the analysis of the release times of the lifeboats, brilliant analysis of chemical decomposition by Mr Thomas, by the way, and the relatively low altitude of the vessel as it took its crash run, I estimate being able to pinpoint a landing location within about a 50 mile radius.�
�So, in order to find these little green men, we need to search an area of thousands of square miles.� Vigilante continued.
�Again, I�m sure they�re actually blue,� Nichols corrected again, �I could tell by the lighting system on the ship which looked to be absolutely marvelous, the few unbroken pieces may revolutionize certain scientific fields.�
�Where are they, Carter?�
�Ah, yes, let me show you.� Nichols drew and amazingly accurate outline of the 48 United States with an arc starting at Southern California, travelling over the south of the country, then turning north, ending in upstate New York. The professor drew a circle around the California area. �This is the area where the first life boat launched. With this one, especially, there�s a good chance the escape vessel landed in the Pacific.�
�Can you point out the other locations, please?�
�Yes, of course�� and the professor circled additional areas in Oklahoma, Alabama, New Jersey, and right where the main vessel was found. �This last point, I estimate that the pilot tried for as long as he could to save the vessel before he finally abandoned ship.�
"Well, Soldiers, what do you think of the professor's
postulations? Is this what happened?" Crimson Avenger wanted to see if there was faith in the scientist's theories. Space travel was far out of Earth's most advanced science, and he was a newspaperman. Certainly the science was far beyond him.
"I understood less than 15% of what Professor Nichols did, but that 15% was extremely sound. I'm inclined to go with him on this, boss." Dynamite answered.
"From an engineering point, it makes sense," Stripsey added, "I believe I know what happened. How's a totally different story. And do I get more time with that beautiful vessel?"
"I agree with Professor Nichols." TNT said, completing the unanimous verdict, "The metals on this ship have incredible properties and some are incredibly rare." The chemist paused. "At least here on Earth, anyway."
"It sounds like it's settled. Standard SSV operating procedure, then? Everybody pick a location. Wing and I can handle New Jersey, being so close to the city." Crimson Avenger led off, as he usually did.
"New Jersey, you can have it," the Star Spangled Kid took his turn, "Since Pemburton Industries is looking to expand with plants in the deep south, Alabama sounds like the assignment for me."
Vigilante volunteered himself for Los Angeles, "I know the terrain, and the people."
Justin, the Shining Knight, announced he'd take the local alien as Winged Victory seemed to like it up here.
TNT then got up, saying that since Oklahoma was the only location left, he and Dynamite could go there. Crimson Avenger laughed,
"If I can go to New Jersey, you can certainly go to Oklahoma, 'Tex'" There was laughter which was only interrupted by Dynamite.
"TNT, I'd like to go to Alabama with Star. There's an army air base there that could be helpful. I know some people who could be useful" Dynamite interrupted.
TNT just stared at his partner, this time interrupted by Stripsey. "Hey, TNT, you and me'll take the racer to Oklahoma. Thank God, I won't have to tuck the Kid in on this mission."
"That was so funny I forgot to laugh/" the Star Spangled Kid said.
"Before you all run off looking, I have something very important that can help you." Professor Nichols said, "I found an assembly in the ship that is able to track these lifeboatships. I haven't been able to get it to get more than a 2-dimensional directional indicator out of it. Certainly not the 3-D or the distance readings I think this tracking device is capable of."
"So, basically, all this thing does is point towards these space lifeboats?"
"Yes, that's it," Nichols said.
"But it's better than nothing." Vigilante said. "Can you make any more of these devices?"
"Maybe, it's a chemical attraction and Mr. TNT could help me there."
"All right," The Crimson Avenger spoke, trying to progress the meeting, "Professor Nichols and TNT will duplicate the tracking device while the rest of us make our way to our respective locations. Let's go find those little green men."
"But they're blue." Nichols said as the costumed heroes prepared to leave.
To Be Continued next month in issue 2:
"I study nuclear science, I love my classes
I got a crazy teacher who wears dark glasses
Things are going great, and they're only getting better
I'm doing all right, getting good grades
The future's so bright I gotta wear shades."
- Pat McDonald
Issue 1: "The Future's So Bright... "
December 31, 1949 - The Century Association, 7 West 43rd St, Manhattan
"As we enter the second half of the 1900s, we can't help but to look back upon the previous fifty years, seeing what were probably the bloodiest fifty years in the world's history. America proved victorious, though. Our people banded together and succeeded in ridding the world of shocking and unspeakable evil. We paid a price, but we grew and matured as a people because of it. The benefit of our sacrifice and struggle is that we are a free nation, one which will, by the year 2000 walk upon not only the moon, but the planet Mars as well. It's a proud moment for America as we enter what appears to be a new Golden Age."
So read the front-page editorial on tomorrow's Sunday New York Globe-Leader, written by the newspaper's publisher Lee Travis.
Travis was currently at the Century Association, "the most unspeakably respectable club in the United States." where the movers and shakers of New York City prepare to welcome in the New Year. Also among the celebrated attendees is Lee Travis' chauffer/assistant Wing How. Travis also was the costumed adventurer called the Crimson Avenger. Both Travis and Wing, who sometimes served as his sidekick Wing, are dressed in formal attire, befitting both the festive occasion and its luxurious location. The furnishings are exquisite, each room had a different appeal and yet each blended in with and complimented the other rooms.
Travis took a sip from his drink and somehow, always managed to leave it somewhere. To the untrained observer, the newspaper man was doing enough drinking to prepare himself for another prohibition. A more trained eye spotted Wing How picking up discarded glasses picking up after his employer. But to the trained eye, Travis sipped from many different glasses all with different colored drinks. Where he looked to others to be heavily imbibing, he was actually playing a ruse. He appeared to be intoxicated but remained cold sober. It was meant to get everyone around him off of their guards.
"Mister Travis," Wing whispered to Lee, "how much longer must we remain here? It's distasteful enough to sit through these dandyish social events when a charity is being supported, but this, this is simply extreme self-gratification."
"Wing, it's New Year's Eve. We, as a planet, are entering a new decade, a fresh start after the intense horrors of the last twelve years. The least you could do is to relax, get a glass of champagne and toast with the rest of us at midnight."
"I'll pass tonight, thank you. I doubt a Chinaman with a drink here would be taken with anything but panic. But I will hold you to that, seven weeks from now in Chinatown. The year of the Tiger, a real New Year's celebration."
About to answer, Travis was distracted by a commotion at the door. Sylvester Pemberton, the up and coming young heir to the Pemburton fortune. He is in his early twenties, handsome, tall, easily the highest quality tuxedo at the gala. The young man fielded questions and comments like a pro, obviously accustomed to the fame and attention. As Sylvester attracted the crowd, Travis slipped by, now free of the attention, to guide Pemburton's companion, Pat Dugan, to the bar. Dugan was a large man looking textbook Irish red hair, light skin, barely buried temper.
Sylvester Pemburton was the young costumed hero known as the Star-Spangled Kid. His companion Pat was known as Stripsey. Both heroes were affiliated with the Crimson Avenger and Wing as part of the costumed team the Seven Soldiers of Victory. We'll get to the other members of the team later.
"Pat," Lee Travis offered him a glass and a bottle of beer, "what have you been up to lately? I hear you've been in on Preston Tucker's team..."
Dugan gave Travis a stare. "You heard? The reporter and artist you had there from the Globe didn't keep you well informed?" The newspaperman looked away for a moment with a short quiet whistle. "Yeah, I know you're being fair. Hell, I figure you'd be happy to see him come back and thrive." Dugan placed the empty glass directly on the mahogany table without a coaster and took a drink from the bottle. A black attendant ran and picked the glass off of the table. He looked at Dugan, silently asking if he wanted the glass. After seeing Dugan shake his head, the busboy quickly ran the glass back into the kitchen.
"So, are we it? Or is there going to be a 'Seven Soldiers' New Year's Adventure'?"
"You might be surprised, Pat. Greg's down at the Waldorf-Astoria, doing the Lombardo show. He pulled a few strings. Justin's due to arrive soon. Tex and Danny, they have plans. Tex is doing research and Danny's got a date."
"You good?" Dugan offered his empty bottle, "I'm buying this round."
"It's an open bar, and no, I'm fine, thank you."
"OK," Dugan answered and turned to the bartender, "A Rheingold, please."
Travis looked around, seeing Sylvester with a small crowd of fawning onlookers, Wing with a scowl on his face, and Dugan with a beer, decided to make the rounds. Although he often despised being the focus of attention, the lack of attention did make him a bit disappointed. Lee looked around and spotting a familiar face, went over and made his greetings.
"Sam," Travis exclaimed, "Happy New Year!" Sam, born Isaac Samuel Roseman, writer for the New York Sun, turned and almost looked depressed to see him.
"Travis, yes, yes, Happy New Year." was the rote response, "how are you doing?" the reporter asked.
"Fine, thanks for asking. Sam, I'd really like you to reconsider my job offer. I need a man who can write terse, succinct copy. You can say in 300 words what most of these kids couldn't do with 500."
"Oh, please. Can you imagine an old anti-new Dealer like me working for a bleeding heart like yourself? No more New York Sun, now it's the New York World-Telegram and Sun. More damn names than good writers. I can write but damned if I'll see any prime space or many column inches. Could you see me writing for one of your causes?"
"You know the business, you know how to write, Sam"
"Bull, Lee. Your paper supports causes and does a damn good job of it. But they're seldom my causes. This isn't my world anymore, Lee. Soon, it may not be yours either." Sam took a sip from his half-full highball glass, "I haven't had a good bourbon since before prohibition."
"You know, Sam, for someone so good at getting answers, you're not very good at hiding them."
"I want the mayor's scandal. You want me, I want it." The reporter drained his glass. "Not negotiable, Happy New Year, Lee."
"Lee Travis!" a voice boomed out as Sam Roseman took the interruption as an excuse to leave.
"Sylvester Pemberton," Lee held out his hand with a smile on his face. In his mind, he was screaming at a stupid kid reminding him about secret identities. Sylvester came up with a quick wink before continuing the conversation.
"Mr. Travis, I'm curious as to why there isn't more coverage in your fine paper on Pemburton Industries expansion in the deep South. The construction of plants is certainly going to do wonders to curb the rising post-war unemployment rate..." There was a taunting flare in Sylvester's eye. The young man knew there were two other people involved in the conversation. Most everyone else saw a newspaper publisher and a rich young businessman. In reality, they also were a seasoned superhero team leader and a recently matured teen adventurer.
"Mr. Pemburton, I can assure you that when your company creates jobs for unemployed people, the Globe-Leader will certainly report the story." Travis' voice dropped to a whisper, "You know, I can remember when you barely came up to my lapel."
"That was a look for you, a red cape and a domino mask over your work clothes." The young man paused. "Happy New Year, Lee."
"Happy New Year, Sylvester."
"It's 11:30! The forties have only thirty minutes to live!' A cheer went up through the floor after the impromptu announcement.
"Will Justin be here?" Sylvester asked.
"He's working with the mounted units down in Times Square. After that, he's supposed to come up to the roof with Winged Victory and make a brief appearance." Lee rubbed his chin, "speaking of roofs, is the Star Rocket Racer handy?"
"Sure is, and can that rod wail. We've, well, Pat's managed to add a real top to the car so it can mask itself as an ordinary vehicle. Once we take off, then we can pull the roof back and slide the bubble up. Roadbound limo to flying vehicle in less than 90 seconds." Lee Travis finished his first drink and smiled. He shook Sylvester's hand and actually believed they could celebrate New Year's without a super-criminal threatening the good of the nation.
As they hoped, the midnight hour came and went, the ball fell in Times Square with nothing unexpected happening. It was now 1950, the future was here. Lee Travis looked around the Century Association suite they were in and felt comfortable. Even his sidekick Wing looked a bit more relaxed. Sylvester was making his own rounds, a practice Lee had been using for years to find potential problems and to perform his civilian identity's job. The four heroes collected and went up to the roof; standing on the ledge they watched a knight on a winged and flying horse take a couple of loops around the building before landing to a throng of cheers.
Sir Justin smiled and effortlessly slid off of Winged Victory. He offered the horse a carrot which was eagerly consumed. "What ho," the knight offered, "I cannot understand what why you Manhattanites have so much difficulty finding a 'parking space." Justin smiled at the laughs his comment had gotten. The knight's fellow heroes smiled as well. It was a glorious evening and they thought nothing could have interrupted the festivities.
That is, until an attendant came to the roof and told Lee Travis he had a phone call. Lee smiled and politely recused himself from the rooftop crowd and went downstairs. Wing How's face was stoic, he showed no emotion despite his immense inward joy. At last he and Mr. Travis would be leaving this overly swanky soiree. The other Soldiers of Victory were hoping, albeit selfishly, that it was a Globe-Leader newspaper problem and the team wouldn't be needed.
Justin, the time-displaced Shining Knight, was perfectly happy to bask in the admiration of New York City during a world-wide holiday. Sylvester was making headway in expanding his own personal business network of contacts and Pat Dugan, although being somewhat uncomfortable out of his usual social class, was pleased Sylvester was filling his pockets with business cards and not just girls' phone numbers.
When Travis appeared on the roof again, the team could see the result. It was a Seven Soldiers of Victory situation.
"We need to be in Troy by dawn," the publisher/team leader said quietly.
"Greece?" Sylvester asked.
"Troy, New York."
"Can we vote for Greece?" Dugan asked, more seriously than not. There were slight smiles of agreement.
"Tex is working at Rensselaer Polytechnic and he's found something. It would be best to get there and cover any potential problems before the sun comes up. Pat, can Wing and I grab a ride with you in the Star-Rocket racer?" Travis explained, fully in Crimson Avenger mode, despite his formal civilian dress.
"Whilst you four fly to Troy, I'll go and gather Gregory from the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. My celebrity should allow me access to him. I can apprise him of the situation and the two of us will meet you and Thomas up north." Sir Justin added before giving his steed, Winged Victory a gentle rub on his nose. "I'm going to be off then, as I expect we'll need more time than the near magical flying Racer. Fare-thee-well, fellow knights!"
Justin, the Shining Knight, climbed onto his horse. As the horse's large white wings started flapping, the rooftop revelers, held onto their hats and the Knight rose above them, slowly turning towards the Waldorf-Astoria.
Wing How watched the horse fly into the air and thought about using a flying horse to gather a team member who was less than ten blocks away.
January 1, 1950 - Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, 301 Park Ave, Manhattan
Justin rose gracefully on the back of his horse Winged Victory. The skyscrapers of Manhattan made his path extremely clear. Park Avenue was a wide thoroughfare with hundreds of thousands of people traversing it daily. Over the last few years, Justin wondered what could possibly have made him think of medieval London as a true city of any sort. Winged Victory gave a bit of frustration as he was urged to descend. The horse had had enough of the crowds tonight, but obeyed its master by gliding smoothly to the street at 301 Park Avenue.
Leaving the reins of Victory with a police officer, Justin strode into the Hotel Lobby, making his way past the lobby to the Grand Ballroom. The music was glorious. In addition to the skill and talent of the band, the spirit of the location, the participants and the time added so much to the entertainment. Justin smiled and found himself enjoying the music. But, he had a job to do. He started looking around for Gregory Sanders, the Vigilante. Like Justin, Greg had pretty much given up the idea of a second "civilian" identity. As Justin was always the Shining Knight, Greg was always the Vigilante.
Justin spotted him, dressed in his costume of denim trousers, navy blue shirt, and bright red bandanna. Around the hero was a small entourage of women, some of them accompanied by a jealous male companion. Greg quickly broke off the conversation when he saw Justin. After all, wouldn't a mystery man singing cowboy in New York City be surprised when a knight in full golden armor showed up?
After the war, Vigilante and the Shining Knight had grown closer. Like many pairs of good friends, the two were opposites in so many ways. Justin was an anachronism, a millennium out of his own time, living in a far future he still had troubles understanding. In some ways, Greg was the most grounded of the Seven Soldiers. Pat Dugan had to adjust to fit in with the higher social layers of the Pemburton foundation. The Vigilante, as he preferred to be called, had no need to fit in. Vig could be Ted Williams refusing to wear a neck-tie.
Greg Sanders looked at Justin and as with the other Soldiers of Victory, he saw a mission. The blue garbed cowboy turned back to his entourage and smiled asking for telephone numbers from any single woman. "I'm being summoned to save someone from terrible danger but please, you all should continue enjoying the new years festivities."
Giving the crowd a wave, the Vigilante and Shining Knight left the Ballroom. As they walked out, Vig said the Justin, "It's just as well, fiddlin' like I do isn't a good match for the big band sound those Canucks do."
"There was a problem?"
"Not if you enjoy Auld Lang Syne on a fiddle, there wasn't. Anyway, are you riding your horse or do you need my bitch seat."
"It's called a pillion, isn't it, Gregory. I think Winged Victory will enjoy this Troy. It certainly sounds much more rural and to his liking. You're complacent with the location? The others seemed disturbed by the distant location."
"It's aces with me, I can't wait to burn some rubber with my cycle before it snows. Meet you up at Rensselaer afore dawn? See you there." And Vigilante crossed the street, got onto his motorcycle, started it, revved the engine a couple of times before he pulled onto Park Avenue and headed north.
Justin climbed onto his horse and asked for a little bit of room before riding Victory out onto Park Avenue. Turning, the horse started trotting north on Park Avenue, wings starting to flap. A bit of wind gushed down the street and horse and rider rose off the street and into the air. Victory made a loud winnie and shook his head as they flew off into the night.
January 1, 1950 - Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute Troy, NY
People who live in and spent the vast majority of their time in large urban areas often fail to realize that it's usually considerably colder outside those areas. Perhaps this is why the four heroes getting out of the Star-Rocket Racer shivered despite their overcoats. That was the situation at Rensselaer Polytechnic 5 am, New Years Day.
"Well, can you imagine someplace so distant, so far north?" Sylvester Pemburton asked.
"That's what's wrong with you city boys, water thin blood. Oh, and Happy New Year!" Thomas N. Thomas came out of an RPI Chemistry department building. Thomas was also known as the hero called TNT. Like his partners, he had been active as a costumed adventurer since the beginning of the decade, just before the war. He was a chemistry teacher who with a particularly gifted student, Daniel Dunbar, had discovered a combination of radioactive isotopes which, when used in a certain fashion bestowed upon Thomas and his student superhuman powers.
"So, Tom," Travis asked, "why do you need the Soldiers?"
"Got room for one more in the racer? If you can get me a few miles northwest, I can show exactly what I'm talking about." The Star-Rocket Racer was filled up and once again rose into the sky heading off into a wooded area outside of the city. Using the racer's headlights, a large gash in the ground could be seen, ending in a closed clump of trees. Landing the racer, the team exited the vehicle and walked into the heavy brush. The long blackened scar in the ground ended at a large metal vehicle, about the size of a bus. It appeared to be a small to midsized air ship.
Upon examination, the craft looked to hold about six passengers, seemingly human sized and shaped. Screens were cracked and broken. Control panels still smoked and the occasional spark could be seen. Large parts of the ship were missing. Lee Travis and Thomas spoke about details, making sure the areas could be cordoned off without attracting attention. Pat Dugan was fixated on the ship and its various pieces. What is was supposed to have done and what it still might be capable of doing. It was after midnight, 19 hours later before he actually took a break to relieve himself.
The Shining Knight and the Vigilante arrived as the sun started to come up. Despite the day being both a holiday and a Sunday. With a few calls it was possible to cordon off the area. A cover story about joy-riding hot-rodders was created. The spaceship was loaded into the back of a tractor trailer and kept under lock and key.
While Travis and Sylvester made the arrangements to explain away the crash�s results, Thomas and Dugan were intent on the ship itself. Dan Dunbar, the last of the Soldiers known as Dynamite, arrived just before noon. Dunbar was finishing up his doctorate in Physics at MIT and was on schedule to defend his thesis before the academic year's end. Joining the two other Soldiers, the student quickly realized they were far out of their depth.
"I don't know," Danny said, "Viki or John Blatt, MIGHT be able to help us. If there was anybody, though, it'd be Carter Nichols out of Gotham City."
"That crackpot? He's wrong as much as he�s right. Why not von Braun, or one of those other ex-Nazi rocket scientists?" Stripsey added.
"Von Braun would give his left nut to play with this baby, but if he understood this, we'd be in orbit right now." Thomas gave his protege a disapproving look. It was still unclear if it was the salty language or Dunbar's studying of nuclear physics instead of chemistry that bothered him more. It could be the fact that Danny Dunbar was no longer his sidekick, but a full grown man and hero in his own right.
"I've got a couple of contacts at GE in Schenectady. We can fly Nichols up there and use the plant, Dugan offered. "I'll make some calls and we should be able to start tomorrow, Tuesday at the latest."
"It's after midnight, Pat, it's Monday the 2nd already."
"It is? Well then, I am going to bed. Tom, there had better be a place to get a hearty breakfast and a cuppa coffee in this God-forsaken boondock town." The ginger-haired Dugan stood to his full 6 foot plus height, stretched his arms out and yawned.
"Am I keeping you awake, Pat?" Lee Travis walked into the trailer in full Crimson Avenger regalia. The tight red elastic fabric hugged every muscle on Travis' body. Despite being 39 years old, the publisher of the NY Globe-Leader was clearly in excellent physical condition.
"No, we're not doing this in the monkey suits, are we?" Thomas may have said it, but in reality, most of the other soldiers shared the same sentiment.
"Costumes get better results than rich businessmen calling in favors. Besides, they might think we're the Justice Society and fall all over themselves trying to help. Get some sleep, soldiers, it's going to be a long week."
January 6, 1950 - General Electric Schenectady, NY
At the General Electric plant in Schenectady, New York the Soldiers have spent the week doing what each of them could to help the research into the mysterious space ship. The bulk of the work was being done by Nichols, TNT, Dynamite and Stripsey. Wing had found a small group of Chinese scientists who had immigrated during the War and spent the week mostly with them. The Star Spangled Kid and Crimson Avenger handled relations with GE. Vigilante and the Knight, however, had precious little to do. Occasionally Greg would sing in the company cafeteria, but he and Justin were bored. Greg decided to work on Justin's knowledge of current conversational English.
And so Friday morning the two were in an employee rest room. Vigilante was talking to the Knight: "Sartre, the French philosopher says 'To do is to be'. The Greek philosopher Socrates says'To be is to do'. Frank Sinatra says 'Do be do be do'. It's funny because the first two are serious philosophers and Sinatra's a singer."
"I don't understand, Gregory, but if you say it's funny, I believe you."
"To do is to be," Viigilante said in a stuffy voice. He followed with "To be is to do." in a different but equally stuffy voice. Then he crooned, "do be do be dooo" in his best singing voice, which in reality wasn't half-bad. "It's the inflection, Justin, and the difference in seriousness despite the similarity of words."
"I still don't get it." Justin said turning for the door.
As the two mystery men were leaving the bathroom, a young technical writer exited a stall, say a cowboy telling a knight a joke about Sinatra. He shook his head and wondered how he ever let his brother talk him into working at GE. He also figured 5:00 couldn't get there fast enough.
Later that day (luckily as the situation was becoming more and more awkward), in a General Electric conference room, Carter Nichols addressed the eight members of the Seven Soldiers of Victory. Dynamite and Stripsey stood in front of the room with the scientist and the others sat around a large wooden table. The Crimson Avenger sat at the table, nervously tapping his fingers on the table top.
"Are we all here?" Nichols asked.
"Yes, yes, we are." The Avenger answered, "What have you found, Doctor?"
"It's an amazingly simple idea, ocean going ships on our planet have lifeboats. These smaller vessels allow passengers and crew to abandon the ship should it become severely damaged. Although these smaller vessels lack the speed and capacity of the mother ship, the boats keep the passengers alive." Nichols expounded.
"So, you're saying that the little green men aboard this ship all hopped off on lift rafts?"
�Actually, I think they�re blue.�
�Professor, are these aliens on planet Earth?� The Crimson Avenger was barely concealing his growing frustration. Surely the aliens would stick out regardless of skin color.
�Why, yes, wasn�t I clear?�
�Professor,� Vigilante asked, can you pinpoint the aliens� locations a bit more detailed than on planet Earth?�
�Yes, yes, I can.� And then a short pause of silence followed by a few harsh stares.
�Oh, you want to know where they actually are? There�s still a degree of uncertainty here. Without a proper vector analysis of trajectories, speeds and weather conditions at the time of launch, an exact location is impossible to calculate.�
�How close can you come, then?�
�Judging by the analysis of the release times of the lifeboats, brilliant analysis of chemical decomposition by Mr Thomas, by the way, and the relatively low altitude of the vessel as it took its crash run, I estimate being able to pinpoint a landing location within about a 50 mile radius.�
�So, in order to find these little green men, we need to search an area of thousands of square miles.� Vigilante continued.
�Again, I�m sure they�re actually blue,� Nichols corrected again, �I could tell by the lighting system on the ship which looked to be absolutely marvelous, the few unbroken pieces may revolutionize certain scientific fields.�
�Where are they, Carter?�
�Ah, yes, let me show you.� Nichols drew and amazingly accurate outline of the 48 United States with an arc starting at Southern California, travelling over the south of the country, then turning north, ending in upstate New York. The professor drew a circle around the California area. �This is the area where the first life boat launched. With this one, especially, there�s a good chance the escape vessel landed in the Pacific.�
�Can you point out the other locations, please?�
�Yes, of course�� and the professor circled additional areas in Oklahoma, Alabama, New Jersey, and right where the main vessel was found. �This last point, I estimate that the pilot tried for as long as he could to save the vessel before he finally abandoned ship.�
"Well, Soldiers, what do you think of the professor's
postulations? Is this what happened?" Crimson Avenger wanted to see if there was faith in the scientist's theories. Space travel was far out of Earth's most advanced science, and he was a newspaperman. Certainly the science was far beyond him.
"I understood less than 15% of what Professor Nichols did, but that 15% was extremely sound. I'm inclined to go with him on this, boss." Dynamite answered.
"From an engineering point, it makes sense," Stripsey added, "I believe I know what happened. How's a totally different story. And do I get more time with that beautiful vessel?"
"I agree with Professor Nichols." TNT said, completing the unanimous verdict, "The metals on this ship have incredible properties and some are incredibly rare." The chemist paused. "At least here on Earth, anyway."
"It sounds like it's settled. Standard SSV operating procedure, then? Everybody pick a location. Wing and I can handle New Jersey, being so close to the city." Crimson Avenger led off, as he usually did.
"New Jersey, you can have it," the Star Spangled Kid took his turn, "Since Pemburton Industries is looking to expand with plants in the deep south, Alabama sounds like the assignment for me."
Vigilante volunteered himself for Los Angeles, "I know the terrain, and the people."
Justin, the Shining Knight, announced he'd take the local alien as Winged Victory seemed to like it up here.
TNT then got up, saying that since Oklahoma was the only location left, he and Dynamite could go there. Crimson Avenger laughed,
"If I can go to New Jersey, you can certainly go to Oklahoma, 'Tex'" There was laughter which was only interrupted by Dynamite.
"TNT, I'd like to go to Alabama with Star. There's an army air base there that could be helpful. I know some people who could be useful" Dynamite interrupted.
TNT just stared at his partner, this time interrupted by Stripsey. "Hey, TNT, you and me'll take the racer to Oklahoma. Thank God, I won't have to tuck the Kid in on this mission."
"That was so funny I forgot to laugh/" the Star Spangled Kid said.
"Before you all run off looking, I have something very important that can help you." Professor Nichols said, "I found an assembly in the ship that is able to track these lifeboatships. I haven't been able to get it to get more than a 2-dimensional directional indicator out of it. Certainly not the 3-D or the distance readings I think this tracking device is capable of."
"So, basically, all this thing does is point towards these space lifeboats?"
"Yes, that's it," Nichols said.
"But it's better than nothing." Vigilante said. "Can you make any more of these devices?"
"Maybe, it's a chemical attraction and Mr. TNT could help me there."
"All right," The Crimson Avenger spoke, trying to progress the meeting, "Professor Nichols and TNT will duplicate the tracking device while the rest of us make our way to our respective locations. Let's go find those little green men."
"But they're blue." Nichols said as the costumed heroes prepared to leave.
To Be Continued next month in issue 2:
"I study nuclear science, I love my classes
I got a crazy teacher who wears dark glasses
Things are going great, and they're only getting better
I'm doing all right, getting good grades
The future's so bright I gotta wear shades."
- Pat McDonald