Chapter 9: Martian Monkey Business
Dr. Mid-Nite has seen outer space before. In the Justice Society, he has seen most every wonder under the stars. Still, living an Amazing Story yet stirs a mystery man. The child Charles McNider could only imagine of a sojourn beyond the sky above his grounded gaze. The man McNider, a.k.a. Dr. Mid-Nite, can never quite believe that he experiences mystery in space. Such strange adventures exceed any early earthly expectations and extrapolations.
Indeed, all Charles' adult adventures do. He lives the unexpected. A banal Brooklyn kid became a brilliant physician. That physician incredibly overcame his blindness after gangsters blew him up, and he bravely struck back. First unmercifully in the press. Then, he became the bane of the underworld as Dr. Mid-Nite, Master of Darkness, who relentlessly ruined racketeers, rankled robbers, roughed ruffians, wrestled reprobates, and righted wrongs. For the greater good, felons and goons feared him. Soon after, Uncle Sam beckoned Charles to the battlefield, and the physician found before him the fiendish as never before. However, legends, such as Dr. Mid-Nite, are living ideals, so Charles' shocked psyche and disturbed spirit survived. He had to inspire others and uphold democracy, in the periodicals and such. Since coming home, Dr. Mid-Nite has rejoined the JSA in its pursuit of protecting the people, propagating hope, punishing evil, and policing powerful phenomena beyond plebian parties' purview per se. For example, Dr. Mid-Nite and chums chase churlish Martians to Venus because they chose to cherry-pick chancy devices from Earth's champions.
Slightly chafed, Charles McNider chaps at the bit to chuck his fist in Kriglo face once more. Mars invaded both Gotham and his home. But, he knows that he must be cheerfully patient without. At his acromion, Doc has no apparent chip on his shoulder. Rather, tranquil glinting goggles ogle out the rocketship window beside him. Peripherally, Phantom Lady fondles her neck nape and heaves her goosebumped bosom.
She speaks, "I will never get used to this life. One moment, I am a sheltered sissy, the scion of a senator. The next, I am practically a pulp protagonist, pulverizing crooks and palookas in the concrete jungle. The next, I am traversing through the great unknown toward Venus to pacify arthropodan imperialistic Martians nigh out of H.G. Wells."
"I know what you mean," murmurs Mid-Nite, "I was just thinking almost the exact same thing."
A couple of street-level crimefighters quietly consider their calling in the "distinctively copious" universe. Dr. Mid-Nite cups his chin and clicks his tongue. Phantom Lady clasps her throat and chews her lower lip. Legends have both mortals and gods. It would seem.
Sandra Knight makes further conversation, "So, Mr. Mid-Nite, how close do you reckon that we are to the Kriglo craft? We should intercept them soon."
"I am afraid that I have some bad news on that topic," answers a voice other than her abreast buddy.
"Cousin Ted, what is it?" Sandra swivels toward a familiar sound.
Starman arrives with Icky Mudd accompanying him. Prof. Knight announces, "We should have met the Martians several million miles ago. We have crossed quite a celestial span without spotting them. Currently, we near Venus without cutting off the Kriglo 'at the pass', as the cowboys say. Possibly, their war party is already attacking Aphrodite's eponymous orb."
"Aw shucks. I feel awful. I am embarrassed and ashamed," Icky explains, "I am this here ship's chief engineer, but I done failed to fit 'er for one-fourth lightspeed. Instead, ol' Icky only furnished us one-fifth o' 186,000 miles per second. Thus, we ain't intercepted the arachnid invaders, alien to both Earth and Aphrodite's eponymous orb. They's travelled sixty-thousand kilometers per second with a head start, soes they theoretically beat us to Venus. Forsooth, my name's Mudd!"
Amused, Dr. Mid-Nite opines, "You seem simultaneously an idiot and a genius, Mr. Mudd."
"Thank you," acknowledges Icky, "That is what the Army Air Corps always is saying. This old country boy is awfully smart with mechanics but a little dumb with language." Captain Midnight and Icky Mudd are actually Army aviators.
Starman saves the (un)abashed stereotype. He rescues the ruddy rube, "Anyway, on our present route, we reach Venus in five hours. Ready yourselves. Please review the intelligence reports that I assembled and provided after interviewing Wonder Woman and Spectre."
"Aye-aye, captain," Dr. Mid-Nite saucily salutes his colleague.
"Alright, alright," ex-airman Ted Knight answers, "I am not JSA chairman, but I kindly ask that you prepare for our adversaries. I would not mind outwitting them. Frankly, they kicked our asses in Gotham."
"Oh my, Teddy, you said 'tuchuses' in the presence of a Lady," teases Sandra, "Surely, Gen. Patton has nothing on you!"
Charles chuckles, "Hey, shouldn't Diana lead us into battle? An Amazon is the most consummate warrior of any knights abroad. No offense, Sgt. Mudd."
Raspberry reverberates. "A woman heading a raid? One has to wonder about that!" Starman snipes.
Ted Knight could be kidding. Charles and Sandra kind of hope so in this post-war era. Women recently manned the factories while "the boys" were away, and many were right beside our fighting men over there. Women can be superheroines in 1948. Lord willing, Rosie the Riveter is not returning to reticent waiting in some residence.
Some time and outer space pass. Five hours later, The Meteor meets the Morning Star's atmosphere and veers for the vast Venusian veldt. The grass and scrub stretch for acres upon acres unto all horizons. Even at this altitude, the arriving heroes initially see but ubiquitous uninhabited land. Pilot Mudd levels the airship and cruises for a distant point. Beside him, Starman sits in Captain Midnight's usual seat and navigates by advanced instruments. At Knight's shoulder, Wonder Woman stands staring through the thick glass canopy.
The Princess pronounces, "Queen Desira hangs on by a thread ahead, Ted. The Spider-Men of Mars have arrived, and they have apprehended her. By astral projection, I am inside her head and abaft her eyes. She is strung-up and seeing threatening fangs. But, she is not yet bled, for the Kriglo have not fed. Get me to her!"
"You two do have a strong psychic connection," Starman states and then strategizes, "We are near enough that Spectre, Flash, and you could jump and dash the distance to Desira. Remember, however, that we have no good reconnaissance of the Martians. Only radar readings. You are charging in blind."
Wonder Woman taps her temple, "I am looking right at the enemy, and I am unconcerned about any unfortunates between my friend and me. They may be from Mars. I actually am Mars."
Starman assents, "Please, be the Society's first wave then. I shall bring down Dr. Mid-Nite and Phantom Lady soon—if you leave us any foes to fight."
Diana neither frowns nor smirks. She simply sprints to find Flash and Spectre. Ted tells Icky to open a hatch. Icky offers that the attacking trio may want one of Captain Midnight's glider-suits from this height. Knight bets that Wonder Woman and fellows will find no need. And, he is right.
Above the ring of desert before Desira's capital, Wonder Woman waves Spectre through the door into the shrieking air outside the Mach 1 Meteor. His vocation of vengeance ever on his mind, he gladly follows her guidance. The grim ghost leaps into the rarefied vapors.
To Diana's surprise, Flash puckishly leaps into her arms. He screams into her ear. He could try a self-made cyclone to slow his descent. However, he kindly requests that Wonder Woman carry him on the drop to dirt. He does not want to sprain an ankle from one thousand feet up. In turn, he will carry her during the sprint to Desira, for Jay jaunts even faster than WW (don't you know?). Do they have a deal?
Wonder Woman smirks and shakes her head. "Sure, what the hell," says she.
Over the sandy landscape, Spectre soars like swiftest justice. His icy stare spots the sought saucer ahead. It sits a short distance from Desira's city, and two Spider-Men skitter about its perimeter. Surrounding the Martians is a sizable circle of bested Venusians. Some are slain (and still). Some are secured (and sad). Spectre solemnly scowls and deliberately descends. At five hundred feet overhead, he uprights his expanding form and swiftly drops feet-first.
One conquering Kriglo never knows what hit him. He may see a Spectre's shadow—for a half-second. Grown titanically tall, Spectre—upon impact—stamps a damned Spider-Man into the soil. His huge sole squishes him like a plain pest. Splatter and spatter stain sand to the sides. Spectre scrapes slain slop off his shoe and scans for the flattened's fellow soldier, who shall know that Vengeance visits Venus.
Instantly, Justice Society members zip past. Dust eddies in their wake, but no one catches sight of them.
From on high, the stupendous Spectre spots the other Spider-Man, minute by comparison. Seemingly, the itsy-bitsy enemy impudently stares back at his superior. Curiously, the colossus sees the Kriglo draw a single, small ray-gun and faux fire it (at Spectre) while smiling wide. Burning yellow eyes narrow, and Spectre nudges a toe to tromp over to his doomed target. The beaming bug tosses two "baubles", about basketball-sized, from a big belt around its six-foot waist. (Oddly, Kriglo normally wear neither clothing nor accessories). The lobbed spheres land in the sand. Shockingly, the spunky scallywag—standing beside the saucer—signals Spectre to come at him. With wide stride, the wrathful one obliges.
In the saucer, the brave's associate Kriglo activates engines and raises the craft a bit. Sensors say that he has an incoming rocket ship to intercept (the famous Captain Midnight's!); however, he intends to kindly hinder the huge approaching superhero first. Hovering three fathoms overground, the "air support" shoots a sleek cylinder into the sand. Sneering, the pilot propels the saucer upward sharply. Spectre is about to discover how the Martian militia overran the Venusians so quickly.
Rapidly, the shadow of the Spirit of Vengeance stains the defiant, truculent Spider-Trooper taking aim, with his raised wee weapon, at a nigh deity. The powerful proclaims, "Pay for your sins, trespasser!"
A great, green-garbed finger juts at the heavens. Instantly, fierce lightning flashes and falls. Buffeting, blazing bolts break over the bug. He should be burnt and blown-apart bits.
But, Spectre gets a shock instead. The furious fulguration meets an infrangible, invisible force field dome atop the odious arachnid. The ground around the Kriglo is broken glass, but the despicable beast is still intact. Grinning, the Spider-Man secretly thanks Brainiac, for the Superman foe inadvertently provided the force field belt about the Martian's midsection. The band lay in the Justice Society's vault until recently.
Brainiac also provided a shrink gun stolen by the Kriglo. The weapon can radically reduce things. Or, return them to normal size too. It has been highly useful when storing the invaders' "big guns". And, it is useful when deploying them against Venusians or Vengeance himself. The gun aims for the orbs in the sand and initiates their enlargement. The spheres snap to great size and split open. Their contents spill forth and keep expanding.
Suddenly, Spectre faces eight war wheels—advanced armored ordnance from Vandal Savage—and also four Per Degaton tanks, also enhanced, plus four fighter jets, ultramodern on Earth. A Savage war wheel has a single tank track centrally-located and armaments off the sides. It sits about seventeen-feet tall on the steppe. Degaton tanks resemble Shermans—but with laser cannons. Proto-Migs are magnificent killing machines nearly unknown to man, and an avenging angel has only encountered them occasionally in all reality as well.
The tanks and planes attack their towering target.
Elsewhere, Flash and Wonder Woman arrive at the capital gate. The supers have a captured queen to save. The speedster nimbly nears the Arch of Aphrodite, entrance to the city. Ever sharp-eyed, the Sultan of Speed notices something sordid ahead a semi-second before meeting it. The gate's surrounding ground shimmers like ice atop the desert! Jay judges that that is in fact what it is.
Jay Garrick stops just short of the sheer sheet. Surprisingly, he releases Wonder Woman from his strong arms, and she lands standing on the slippery hazard. With impossible poise, she skids upright over the icy booby trap without planting face-first. In effect, fleet Flash flings her into the city past any ambush from a Martian invader. The propelled powerhouse promptly meets dry ground, and she pounds forward like the super-soldier that she is.
Flash circles the ice patch and attempts to spy an awaiting assailant. He need not wait long. Immediately, an angry, glaring Spider-Man descends by his butt's spinneret from the Arch's apex. In one hand, he has Icicle's gun, as almost expected. In his other, he holds another Injustice Society implement—the Shade's cane. Lip curled, the Kriglo commando calls them unequivocally deadly. Quite recently, he used the one to cast darkness over Venusian sentries and the other to freeze the confused guards solid. He intends to eliminate Flash in similar fashion. And, the wide ice patch even provides a safe zone from which to fire.
Until, the arachnid sap sees Flash's feet frenetically kick sand all over the ice. The Crimson Comet should be across the obstacle in no time. Frowning, the Martian aims the cane.
Meanwhile, his Kriglo comrade carries the clan's saucer on a collision course with Captain Midnight's spacecraft, clipping forwards. At the controls, Icky Mudd maintains steady momentum dead ahead. His eyes heed no incoming adversary. However, his ship's sensors have detected the enemy's launch and approach. Thus, a siren screeches warning. Together, Starman, Phantom Lady, Dr. Mid-Nite, and Icky anticipate tensely action.
In short time, the Kriglo captain catches The Meteor in his sight. A formidable cannon's crosshairs fix upon the "cavalry" come to counter Venus' conquerors. The Martian militant readies the mortal mechanism. Power cranks in the gun's chamber, and angry energy collects exponentially. Coruscating plasma crackles in the muzzle. The Martian fires.
Front and center, Icky sights the enemy saucer at the last second. An ace aviator, even though only Midnight's sidekick, Mudd manages deft evasive action. The rocket rears up over a direct blast. The cabin and its occupants avoid termination. But, the Meteor tail totally detonates! Everything from the afterburners to the three fins explode, and the vessel suddenly somersaults end-over-end into the sky. Skirt over tea kettle, Phantom Lady slams to the steel ceiling. Simultaneously, slung Dr. Mid-Nite slaps beside her. Starman stays put, however. Instinctively, he applied his Gravity Rod to remain standing stationary. Icky is strapped in.
A fireball spits up the fuselage from wrecked rocket boosters. Charles and Sandra gawk and bawk. But, ready Starman reflexively rebuffs the rushing hot blast with air made heavy. The Gravity Rod gusts the flames out the opened aft. Although, some avoid the Astral Avenger's effect. That errant oxidation finds Icky and unfortunately ignites him. He sharply screams. Starman turns concerned. Dr. Mid-Nite tucks his knees and spins in mid-air weightlessness. Doc must save the suffering pilot! Captain Midnight's damaged vessel drives into thinner atmosphere. Perhaps, the aflame pilot and imperiled passengers will soon meet an absence of oxygen—affecting, well, everything.
On Venus below, Wonder Woman runs past carnage and destruction in the capital streets. Her heart breaks a bit beholding the static broken bodies and demolished noble buildings. The Kriglo colonialists have affected this idyllic fairyland as foul invaders do. However, Diana's narrowed eyes shed no tears. An Amazon understands war, and, dutifully, she ever accepts the good cause—whether smashing the Axis or the war on crime, whether curbing communism or liberating lovely Desira's land today. Wonder Woman runs toward the fight, through flora-lined streets, some blossoms stained with blood.
Diana's boots clack like a charging nightmare onto the enemy. And, no doubt, the Kriglo hear them an instant before the Lady of Justice is upon them. The alien interlopers are at a fountain where Queen Desira is suspended, spread-eagled, in a giant web. At the monarch's right wing, one interrogator implements a Glastonbury wand as the Wizard, Injustice Society member, uses. The arachnid ogre grills Desira about his acquired kingdom and grimly admonishes that he can extract information more violently—via the wand. At his hip hangs Thor's hammer. Abreast this lout, the left lug leans in, looms, and leers lugubriously. Upon his head, the screwball Spider-Man has stretched the Thinking Cap of the Thinker, another Injustice Society sort. His skull is just kind of absurdly smushed into it. And, in his hand, he holds a big suggestive six-gun such as the Gambler uses, Thinker and Wizard's cohort.
The Wizard want-to-be wields the wand. Queen Desira's cute crystal crown disappears. Her curly hair cascades haphazardly. The diadem reappears in the Martian magician's mitt. He derisively titters, head tilted back.
Then, the Thinking Cap thug does his thing. The skullcap unleashes a psychic attack upon the suspended, vulnerable sovereign. The sadistic Spider-Men seek to make the monarch suffer before spectacularly slaying her. The victory over the Venusians shall be more storied for such a scene. And, note you, this is sincerely (sentimentally) a great moment in Kriglo history (in their minds).
However, the telepathic torture takes an odd turn, for the terrible tactic does not take at all! Rather, the intellective ravaging runs into Wonder Woman's iron will, for the regal women share a psychic bond. Thus, Desira does not resist her adversary alone. She has her heroic sister in her head and spirit. Together, the women wilt the Martian's mental intrusion and ward off the repulsive wight.
The psionic Spider-Man shows surprise. He speaks something to his chum. Both warily turn to scan for Wonder Woman. However, they need not look too hard. The brave, bold heroine stands in plain sight with arms akimbo. She speaks something to them.
Reacting, the petulant Kriglo wave their mighty weapons: hammer, wand and pistol. They announce that the Amazon is outgunned. Half-grinning, the cocksure "girl" casually lobs her magic lasso leftward and loops a long cactus. With the flick of a wrist, she dislodges it and lashes an unlucky mouthy Martian across the mug.
Meanwhile, a mile off, a hundred-foot Spectre swats strafing warplanes with incredible speed and accuracy. His great green glove goes fast with an incensed fury and somehow smites with infallible aim. At the tall phantom's feet, futuristic tanks and hi-tech war wheels fire incessantly as though they can injure, incapacitate, obliterate the angel of avengement towering over tin tyrants' "toys". Ticked off, the truculent titan tosses his capacious cape wide to both sides. It blots out the sun and spreads Tartarean tenebrosity upon the accursed army of advanced armor—which ceases advancing. The left cape catches the tanks' lasers sans cloth combusting, and the right wing swallows the war wheels' rockets into a nebulous nothingness. Then, Spectre's sinister side sends the explosives at Degaton's tanks and utterly destroys them, and his starboard sends lasers like terrible swift swords to the Savage war wheels—ruining them as well. Righteous Spectre whiffs the smoking, reeking wreckage, and he hears the wailing of the routed wagons' wounded pilots. He wonders who they are—and were.
The Spirit of Vengeance would judge and dispatch the "Brainiac" bug who brought about this bale, but the Spectre first pauses to peer upon the dying, the doomed, the damned. His shadow and gaze fall onto them. Who are the pilots, the pathetic souls, who operated the vehicles? Glowing grand eyes gape ever slightly.
The smashed, smoldering wrack contains small crushed and burning bodies. Of course, all are small compared to the Spectre, whether he be giant or not. However, here be seven-inch Kriglo spiderlings who must have acted in concerted composite when conducting the combat cars. They are essentially child soldiers. Far too jaded to care, the eternal aloof entity nonchalantly continues on. He had been curious how the Martians manned the war wheels and tanks, for only six survived sacking the Justice Society.
However, Spectre should perhaps also be curious about a cylinder in the sand, sent by the saucer earlier. One could sagaciously suppose that it contains some secret weapon. The cylinder snaps open, and its concentrated contents spill forth, spreading like the shadow of death. A swarm of juvenile Spider-Men skitter, sprint, speed at Spectre's turned stern. Earlier, they overwhelmed the Venusians, whose carcasses do look exsanguinated if one but surveys. They half-envelop the Spectre in no time. He indignantly squalls.