“The Middle River Volunteer Fire Department?” queried Millie Drake. “That’s where the scanners are saying the alien technology can be found?”
“So it appears, my dear,” I responded. “An oddly prosaic location for an Andromedan laser bazooka, hmmm?”
The young lady and I were at our headquarters, located as it is in the golden trapezoidal roof atop a downtown skyscraper, and filled with electronic and laboratory equipment alongside the myriad artefacts that we have collected during our adventures in Space and Time.
Millie is exceedingly beautiful, with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, sun-kissed skin, and luscious cherry-red lips. The tight, short, powder blue dress she wore only served to highlight the soft curves of her slender adolescent figure.
I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, and jungle boots. My panama hat and opera cape hung from a near by hallstand.
“I say, Kit-10,” I addressed our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or less than a small mechanical cat, “what information do you have in your databanks concerning that type of weapon?”
“Accessing, s--,” replied the robot. “The Andromedan laser bazooka is an armament utilised during the most decadent period of the Galactic Wars. It is of an highly unstable type, later banned for use and superseded by more reliable gunnery.”
(It must be noted here that Kit-10, alongside her other catlike characteristics, is singularly unable to openly show respect to anyone. In actual fact, the closest she ever comes to it is by referring to me by a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir” -- and Millie Drake by “m--” -- for “ma’am”.)
“Daniel,” said Mille concernedly, “we need to get over there right away.”
“Quite right, Mills,” I agreed, fetching my hat and cloak. “Even if the laser bazooka is just buried there, it could pose a threat. It is imperative that we find it and disable it as soon as possible!” …
Little did we know that things were even worse than we could have possibly supposed. Far worse, indeed. For at that very moment, a man sat behind the desk of the fire chief at the MRVFD itself, wearing the uniform and badge appropriate to this position. He was a man of middle years, his face still showing signs of distinction despite being marked with the results of lifetimes of extreme profligate wickedness. His hair was long and dark, and his face was decorated with a moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute hypnotic glare.
Before the desk stood a thin, bald-headed man in his early fifties, also wearing a fireman’s uniform. His badge identified him as Paul Moucheron, Lieutenant Chief. He noticed that all in the office was as usual, except for the new chief and what looked like a bookcase on which were a couple of antique encyclopaedia sets. Moucheron found this a bit odd. He and the other fire-fighters did not tend to be literary types.
“This is all kind of irregular, isn’t it?” asked Moucheron. “Our old chief suddenly went away on vacation or something, and you just came in here and took over.”
“You shall find that my credentials are all in order, Lieutenant Moucheron,” replied the other. “You will find my name thereon, and that I am indeed the new chief here at the Middle River firehouse. As such, you will obey my commands unquestioningly.”
“Now, you wait a minute,” replied the lieutenant. “Sure, I’ll do what you say as chief, but let’s not have any nonsense. We’re all regular all-American guys here you know, and…”
In response to this, the new fire chief looked into Paul Moucheron’s eyes sharply and again spoke -- his voice now taking a deeper timbre of command.
“You will obey me,” he said. “Obey me without question. I am Magister Don Wingus, and I will raise up this fire department -- with me as its head -- to have absolute power over the community, and indeed over the world!”
“Okay, I will obey…” replied Paul Moucheron. “I will obey you… But I… I…”
Just then, another figure entered the room. It was a teenage girl, full-breasted and insanely voluptuous. She was tall and had raven-black hair, her eyes a pale blue-green, and she was wearing a scarlet crop-top and a black leathern miniskirt.
“This is my daughter, Anastasia,” continued Wingus. “She is a sample of the pleasures that shall be enjoyed under my supreme ruler-ship. Look at her, Moucheron, and know the rewards of obedience to my will!!” …
My name is RUMANOS -- DOCTOR DANIEL RUMANOS, Extraterrestrial Espionage Agent and Intergalactic Man of Mystery. Even though I have the physical appearance of an human being, I am in fact several thousands of years old and do carry within my blood the vastly superior genes of the legendary Aeternusians or “Watchers” of the Daemon-Star ALGOL. Originating ninety-three light years from Earth, we are the most intellectually-advanced race in all of the known galaxies, whose technology is so sophisticated it often appears to be “magic” and “miraculous” to lesser beings.
Whilst most Algolites tend to keep to themselves, preferring to live in elitist seclusion from the rest of the Universe and thus merely observing the goings-on of the myriad races of the vast reaches around them, I am an Operative for a secret organisation known as the KOSMIKOS or Cosmic Intervention Department, tasked with maintaining peace and order throughout the farthest reaches of Space and Time. You know, “plausible deniability”, and all of that sort of thing. It is our ongoing mission to defend the weak, the unfortunate, and the innocent from those who would harm or exploit them.
Currently assigned to Earth, I protect its people (both upon their own planet and across the eternal void) from the hideous manipulations of the arch-villain known as Magister Don Wingus and his occult terrorist organisation, Spectral Paranormal; as well as from alien invasions, mad scientists, and indeed all manner of menace. Assisted by my friends -- the beautiful young Hollywood starlet Miss Millie Drake, and our catlike robot known as Kit-10 -- I am the living icon of Algol on this world. I am a Knight of the Eternal Spires. I am the sword of justice from the planet Daemonia. I am the cosmic crusader. I am the stellar swashbuckler.
I am -- THE DAEMON-STAR!!! …
Millie Drake, Kit-10, and I raced through the County in my specially-modified, canary-coloured Edwardian roadster (affectionately know as “Lizzie”). We were just crossing the bridge onto Eastern Boulevard when suddenly I heard Millie scream.
“Daniel!” she cried, pointing to the sky somewhat behind us. “Look!”
I briefly glanced in the direction in which the girl was indicating and beheld an horror indeed. The already-overcast sky was becoming increasingly dark -- dark with creatures. They were flying creatures like unto huge grey bats except with long snakelike necks and horned heads. There were dozens of them, and they were headed directly for us.
“Legionoids,” I said. “Monsters that were bred to serve the Andromedan armies during the wars.”
I stepped down hard on the petrol pedal in an attempt to put as much space between the creatures and us as possible, but it was to little avail. They were closing in on us quickly.
“Kit-10!” I called. “Blast them!”
The robotic feline quickly activated her nose-laser and began to shoot at the Legionoids. She managed to hit several of them, which immediately burned out of existence. Nevertheless, there were just too many of the flying horrors for this to be of much effect. They continued to approach us, and were getting closer.
“There is one chance,” I stated. “Cover your ears, Millie!”
I took the transonic turnscrew, an highly-advanced scientific device resembling a writing pen, from the pocket of my jacket. I then activated a certain setting of the instrument and, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I held the transonic aloft and pressed a button.
Immediately there was a noise like unto a vastly-amplified feedback loop. I grimaced at the sound but ignored the pain it caused to my hearing. Within a few seconds, the Legionoids burst into flames, soon enough burning away into nothing.
“All right, love,” said I whilst tapping Millie Drake’s shoulder. “You can uncover your ears now.”
“What did you do, Daniel?” she enquired.
“That setting was a recording of the sound wave that was used against the Legionoids in the wars. It was found to be detrimental to their nervous systems and to cause their instant death when directly applied to them.”
“But how were those things here anyway?” asked Millie.
“Yes, I was just wondering that myself,” I pondered. “Someone had to have brought them to Earth, and that same someone likely has control of the laser bazooka.”
“And for some reason they are headquartered at the Middle River Fire Department?” finished the girl.
“So it appears,” I said. “This case is indeed getting more and more grotesque by the moment, hmmm?” …
Forsooth, at that same time, the evil Magister Don Wingus was watching us on a video screen in the chief’s office at the firehouse. The screen was part of a system of security surveillance set up with cameras around the area, in order that the MRVFD could keep an eye on situations that might require their assistance.
“Oh well,” smirked Wingus upon seeing my defeat of the Legionoids, “I knew those little terrors had nothing. Still, we got them at a good price, and they did annoy my old enemy a bit.”
As he spoke, there was a noise from the adjoining room. It was a sound that is quite definitely better left undescribed.
“I see my little cutie is keeping that Moucheron idiot occupied,” laughed Wingus. “He will be quite in our power by the time that meddling Rumanos arrives.” …
We got to the firehouse and parked Lizzie at the front entrance.
“Be careful and stay close to me, Mills,” I counselled. “This is proving to be a rather dangerous mission indeed.”
Millie and I entered the building with Kit-10 following closely behind us. The front door was locked but yielded easily to my escape artist skills. All was quiet inside, and we found ourselves in a front corridor with numerous doors leading from it. We made our way cautiously onwards, until Millie suddenly noticed something.
“Daniel,” she whispered. “That smell.”
“Indeed,” I replied, sniffing the acrid odour that had abruptly made itself evident. “Kit-10, analyze.”
“Accessing, s--,” replied the computerised cat. “It is a form of poison gas utilised in the Galactic Wars. It is toxic and potentially lethal to most organic life-forms.”
With this, the gas was released further into the corridor and, before we could make any attempt to escape, both Millie Drake and I began to feel our consciousness slipping away!!
Kit-10 quickly went into action, utilising her nose-laser to blast the lock off one of the doorways. The door flew open and I staggered into the obvious supply-room, pulling Millie behind me. I slammed the door shut and quickly opened a window on the other side of the chamber.
“Are you all right, Mills?” I enquired, keeping the girl steady on her feet.
“Yes, I think so,” she replied with a cough. “I kind of held my breath and didn’t breathe much of it.”
“Quite right,” I approved. “Kosmikos training, hmmm? Now, we just need to find out who is behind all of this before they can take further action against us, and… ”
Just then, I was interrupted by someone suddenly leaping out from behind a stack of storage boxes. He was a thin, bald-headed man in his early fifties, and I briefly noticed his fireman’s uniform and badge identifying him as a certain Lieutenant Paul Moucheron before his hands were on my throat.
Millie Drake screamed and dodged aside as I grappled with Moucheron. He was wiry-muscled and quite strong, and we were soon trading attempts at wrestling holds of various sorts.
“I know who you are, Doctor Daniel Rumanos,” announced Moucheron. “Our new fire chief has given me orders to kill you! I’ve been in the fire service since I was a kid, and I’m always loyal to the chief!”
Kit-10 was hovering close to us, attempting to find an opening to hit my opponent with her blaster without injuring me. Whilst we were both thus occupied, we did not notice the door open onto the corridor and Don Wingus steal into the room, quickly clasping one of his hands over Millie Drake’s mouth and pulling her from the chamber.
I continued my struggle with Paul Moucheron. He had gotten around behind me, and was now attempting to get me into a full-nelson. I managed to slip my foot back behind his ankle and trip him backwards, making certain to have my full weight land upon him. I then spun around and, before he could recover, dealt an hard blow with my fist to his head, sending him into immediate unconsciousness.
I stood up and turned to speak to Millie. She was gone!
“Kit-10, did you see what happened to Miss Drake?!” I enquired concernedly.
“Negative,” replied the little robot. “My targeting systems were fully occupied.”
“She has been kidnapped,” I surmised, “and according to what that Paul Moucheron said, it is the new fire chief who is behind this. We must find him!”
Kit-10 and I left the storage room. The poison gas had now completely cleared from the corridor, and we went onwards until we had reached what was labelled at the chief’s office. The door was already ajar, and we entered to find ourselves looking at a scene of terror.
The room was quite normal in and of itself. All was what could be expected as far as furniture was concerned, except perhaps for the bookcase and its encyclopaedias. None the less, I had no time to puzzle over this. The new “fire chief” was standing before his desk, grasping Millie Drake by the throat with one hand and holding an antique but obviously-working pistol to her head with the other. Of course, I immediately recognised his countenance as that of my oldest and in sooth deadliest foe.
“Don Wingus,“ I intoned. “I should have known. So you did escape from the Conrad Mineshaft.”
Near by I noticed his daughter, Anastasia “Stacy” Wingus. She was reapplying her lipstick whilst gazing into a small pocket mirror and did not seem to be paying much attention to the proceedings.
“Well now, Rumanos,” said Wingus in his usual mocking tone, “welcome to the Middle River Volunteer Fire Department, my new base of operations. Be careful that neither you nor that ridiculous computer of yours make any sudden moves, or poor little Miss Millie Drake here gets it.”
“I know, Wingus,” I returned, “I know. So, you have access to an Andromedan laser bazooka. What diabolical plan has seized your crazed imagination?”
“The laser bazooka is already mounted atop the firehouse,” explained Wingus, gesturing slightly to a monitor screen that showed the truth of this. “It is aimed directly at Washington, DC. At my voice command, it will begin firing.”
“Wingus, you ungodly fiend!” I protested.
“You see,” he went on, “this firehouse just happens to be in an unique position that shall aid the laser to completely destroy the White House and the United Sates Capitol building from here. The President is entertaining important visitors today, including the Chinese Ambassador, and such an attack will ignite an international incident that will have quite serious consequences.”
“Serious consequences indeed,” I shuddered. “That would very likely plunge this planet into the Third World War!”
“Quite so, Rumanos,” grinned the villain. “It is then that I, Magister Don Wingus of Algol, shall step in and take over, becoming supreme dictator of this world! Then, utilising our own Daemonian technology, I shall upgrade human Space-travel capabilities that I may take their armies to invade other planets, asserting myself as supreme ruler over all! Today Earth, tomorrow the Universe!!”
“So Wingus, “ I said, “how did you ever manage to acquire an Andromedan laser bazooka anyway? They are rather rare now, and illegal in all of the civilised galaxies.”
“My daughter obtained it from a black-market arms dealer near the outer rim of Andromeda,” explained the villain. “He was quite willing to sell it to her -- with the Legionoids and the toxic gas as optional add-ons -- in exchange for certain… favours, let us say.”
“I can imagine,” I rejoined, with a glance at the voluptuous Stacy Wingus, who was at this time smoothing her raven hair, having now propped up her looking-glass upon the bookcase.
“Rumanos, I am quite certain that you do not have to imagine,” chuckled my old enemy.
“Using your own daughter as a bargaining prostitute,” I charged. “I am not certain if that is better or worse than your usual technique of just murdering people.”
“It matters not, Rumanos,” announced Wingus. “All is prepared, and my utilisation of the Andromedan laser bazooka commences now.”
“Wingus, you cannot do this!” I insisted. “It is madness. Complete and utter madness. Those old weapons were notoriously unreliable. They can misfire or backfire or overload and simply explode. The shots could go wild and cause even greater destruction than you intend.”
“Oh rubbish,” replied my foe. “I have checked the laser bazooka and given it a complete overhaul. I can assure you it is quite functional, and I shall now use it to make myself master of the world!”
“But the things what would happen,” chimed in Millie Drake, despite the pistol being cruelly held against her head. “All the people that will die, and many more that will suffer. Don’t you care about anything? Don’t you even care about the safety of your own child?”
With this, Millie gestured at Anastasia Wingus, who was at the moment busying herself trying on different colours of eye-shadow.
“He cares about nothing, my dear,” I accused. “He is entirely unredeemable in his evil.”
Completely ignoring these protests, the notorious Magister Don Wingus went on with his plans.
“Activate all mechanisms,” he said. “Commence firing sequence. All operations onscreen.”
At this command, the video image of the laser bazooka moved and aimed itself. At the same time, two other views appeared. Both were of locations in the city of US capital city of Washington, DC. They were indeed the White House and the Capitol.
“Wingus, stop this!” I shouted. “Stop this now! The lives that will be lost are unforgivable! If you do this, the Absolute Convention of the Watchers themselves will get involved. You will be complete anathema to all civilised races. You will be hunted down and destroyed!”
“That is absolute rubbish and you know it, Rumanos,” countered the villain. “The Convention will do nothing that would violate their precious non-interference policy. Only the Kosmikos does that, and you and young Miss Drake here are the only agents of that meddling spy network assigned to this wretched planet. As you see, I have both of you at my mercy.”
“Daniel, don’t worry about me,” cried Millie. “Do something to stop him, whatever it takes.”
“Millie, I…” my voice failed me.
“Oh, he will not do that, Miss Drake,” chuckled Wingus. “You and I both know it. The old white knight will do nothing to endanger his lady. It is a failing that has led to the doom of this world. Now, let the firing sequence begin.”
The laser bazooka again adjusted its aim, and several lights began to blink upon it. Wingus still had Millie tight in his grasp, the pistol directly against her temple. Neither Kit-10 nor I could take any action without him blowing her brains out, a crime of utterly dishonourable horror that I am certain he would have no scruple against committing.
I quickly glanced around the room. Stacy Wingus was still occupying herself with her makeup, completely unconcerned with her father’s wicked plots.
“Now,” continued Wingus, his voice filled with evil exultation, “let it begin.”
At this, a gun-sight appeared around the live video image of the White House, and the Andromedan laser bazooka began to glow white hot as it prepared to fire!!!
Can you even commence to recognise the sheer and utter terror, in actual sooth the complete and unmitigated horror of this unholy situation, my dearest friends and most loyal readers? There we were, trapped in that firehouse in the County, with the villainous Don Wingus preparing to unleash the power of a alien weapon in his bid to conquer the planet Earth! In actuality, a bid that would begin by him destroying the White House and Capitol building of the United States of America!
“Fire at my command,” the unhallowed Wingus ordered the system. “Power at full, aim precise, and now… ”
It was then that Paul Moucheron suddenly ran into the room, having recovered from his unconsciousness.
“Chief Wingus!” he cried. “Chief Wingus! I think they got away and… !”
This sudden interruption distracted Don Wingus just enough that I was able, with a lightning-fast kung fu move, to kick the pistol from his hand and pull Miss Millie Drake free from his grasp.
At that moment, Kit-10 finally succeeded in firing her nose-blaster at Don Wingus. He, however, just managed to duck behind Paul Moucheron, using the man as an impromptu shield. Moucheron took the full energy beam and fell down to the floor.
I quickly took the transonic turnscrew from my pocket and aimed it at the ceiling, activating a certain setting. I glanced at the video screen as we ran from the room, and beheld the Andromedan laser bazooka begin to glow hotter, the white glow soon covering it entirely
Millie Drake, Kit-10, and I then ran from the firehouse and to Lizzie. I quickly put the car in her fastest gear and we raced from the area of the firehouse. …
Back in the chief’s office, Don Wingus ran over, and grabbing his daughter, approached the bookcase. A porthole type of opening appeared in it, and they both went inside, Stacy snatching her mirror at the last moment. There was then the strange gasping moaning sound of an engine, and the “bookcase” dematerialised. …
We were racing down Eastern Boulevard, away from the Middle River area. Soon there was the sound of an explosion behind us as, with a tremendous blast, the headquarters of the volunteer fire department blew out of existence.
“Daniel, what did you do?” asked Millie Drake when the noise had ended.
“I used the transonic to overload the laser bazooka,” I elucidated. “Quite simple, actually. Such was a flaw in that particular type of weapon that led to so much trouble for the Andromedan Army back in the Galactic Wars. It then blew up and took the firehouse with it. I am certain the explosion will be officially attributed to faulty wiring or some such thing.
“So do you think Don Wingus and his daughter were killed in the blast?” asked Millie.
“I somehow doubt it, love” I admitted.
“But how could they have escaped? We only barely made it far enough away because of Lizzie‘s modified engine.”
“The bookcase in the office,” I explained “It was his DiTraS, in disguise, which -- as you know -- is a capability of some Algolitish Time/Space vehicles. If he and Anastasia made it aboard the vehicle before the firehouse exploded -- which was obviously his plan if anything went wrong -- they could be anywhere in the Universe by now.”
“So we will probably have to deal with them again,” said Millie Drake.
“Oh, more than likely,” I admitted, “Nevertheless, for today, our work is done except for making a report to the Kosmikos when we get back to headquarters -- and even that will wait, hmmm?”
“It will wait for what?” enquired the girl.
“Why,” I smiled, “it will wait until we have had lunch, of course. I know a fantastic steak submarine sandwich establishment near by!”
***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN
