Buzz Brown

Retreating to the middle of the narrow, shadow-filled alley, Buzz looks at the buildings to either side. Three doors open into the passage. 

Quietly, he checks the doors. All are closed and locked, as are the darkened windows on the ground floor of each building. 

Buzz glances at the silhouettes of the teams of MPs stationed at the far ends of the alley. “If we can’t get out, then we’ll have to go up.” 

He assesses his predicament. There are no fire escapes and the alley is too wide for him to climb by bracing himself against each wall. 

The fugitive pilot lifts the small brown monkey from his shoulder and sets it on the ground. “OK, Fido, time for you to find us a way up.” 

Fido the monkey salutes Buzz and then runs back and forth along the side of the buildings fronting the alley, seeking a climbing foothold. 

Finding a pipe clamped to the brick surface of one of the buildings with a series of U-bolts, he scurries up it, pauses, and waves at Buzz. 

The fugitive pilot grasps the two-inch pipe and eyes it critically. “You realize I weigh a bit more than you, right?” he asks the monkey. 

Fido puts his thumb to his nose and wiggles his fingers before continuing to clamber up the pipe. With a sigh of resignation, Buzz follows. 

Gripping the pipe with his hands and knees, the pilot inches up the building’s side before noticing the pipe stops well short of the roof. 

From his perch higher up on the pipe to which Buzz clings, Fido the monkey vaults and lands nimbly on a window ledge a few feet away. 

Following his furry pal’s lead, Buzz climbs a bit higher and stretches out his leg until he gets a precarious toehold on the third floor sill. 

The fugitive pilot lets loose of the pipe and then shifts over to stand precariously on the ledge. “Great, yet another locked window.” 

Two sills over, Buzz notices light and low music coming through a partly open window. Fido leaps to next ledge and waits for his friend. 

As the pilot stretches out his leg and again tries to shift over to the new ledge, he loses his footing and falls toward the alley below. 

TO BE CONTINUED!

“Nothing like getting shot at by both the good guys and the bad guys,” Buzz mutters as he runs from the attacking Lightning Legion plane.

He zigzags across the empty desert terrain at the edge of the Army airfield, bullets from the Me-109 thudding into the sand behind him.

“Uh oh.” Fifty yards ahead, a tall chain link fence marks the base perimeter. The fugitive pilot drops to the ground as the Me-109 nears.

Strafing fire from the black fighter plane makes a cactus to Buzz’s right explode in a spray of needle-studded chunks as the aircraft passes.

Getting back to his feet as the Me-109 peels off, Buzz squeezes through a bullet-torn rent in the fence and runs into the open desert beyond.

______________________

“All units be advised: Recent eyewitness reports place aviator Buzz Brown, suspected spy and saboteur, in the vicinity of downtown Saguaro.”

“Federal, state, and county forces are joining with Saguaro PD officers to cordon off a nine-block area and conduct a door-to-door search.”

Buzz overhears the radio announcements from a slowly creeping police patrol car as it passes the dark, narrow alley in which he’s hiding.

After escaping the custody of the MPs during the Lightning Legion attack on Drummond Airfield, he’d hopped a freight train back to town.

Buzz had taken refuge in a backyard toolshed until being discovered by a startled homeowner just after nightfall. Now he was back on the run.

With the joint police task force sealing up downtown Saguaro, the fugitive pilot found himself caught in a trap that would soon snap shut!

If Buzz couldn’t evade the police dragnet closing around him, he’d never track down Moseley or be able to use him to get on Dr. Zeus’ trail.

As the prowling patrol car at last moves on, the hounded aviator slips out from behind the dumpster and creeps toward the mouth of the alley.

He freezes and presses himself against the wall as two silhouettes block the opening ahead. “You two men take position here.” “Yes, sir.”

Buzz recognizes Army investigator Capt. Albright’s voice. “If you see anything, call out. The search teams will be here soon. Stay alert.”

Slowly backing away, the fugitive pilot pads stealthily toward other end of the alley only to spot two more MPs barring his path. Trapped!

TO BE CONTINUED!

“C’mon, c’mon,” Buzz mutters to himself as he uses the nail file to try and pick the lock on the handcuffs shackling him to the burning car. 

The front half of the automobile is quickly engulfed in roaring flames as he continues to struggle with the cuffs, the heat battering him. 

Startled by the car’s bursting tires, Buzz drops the nail file Bridget had secretly slipped him to aid his escape from government custody. 

Searing smoke from the rapidly blazing car fills his lungs. “Go, Fido! Run!” He shouts between coughs as he fumbles for the fallen file. 

The crippled car erupts in a fierce, fiery explosion amid the chaos of the Lightning Legion’s devastating sneak attack on the airfield. 

The blackened wreck of the Army staff car sits beside the road, the flames that had enveloped it extinguished by the force of the explosion. 

A battered, soot-darkened figure rises from the drainage ditch bordering the road and rubs his wrist. “That was closer than I’d have liked.” 

Fido pokes his head out of his hiding place inside Buzz’s torn and stained flight suit and chitters angrily at the ruined hulk of the car. 

The pilot gives the monkey’s head a playful rub. “You said it, pal.” In the distance the black Me-109s continue their attack on the airfield. 

“I can’t put the skids to Dr. Zeus and his Lightning Legion goons from a jail cell. We have to go on the lam, Fido. We’re outlaws now.” 

With Fido the monkey cradled in the crook of his arm like a football, former All-American fullback Buzz Brown bolts across the air base. 

Distant rifles crack as soldiers defending Drummond Air Field take hurried shots at the suspicious figure running toward the base perimeter. 

The trailing gunfire fades as the fugitive pilot reaches the open ground beyond the central core of the airfield, but he keeps running. 

Just as Buzz begins to think he’s safe, the increasingly loud thrum of a fighter plane engine makes him glance back over his shoulder. 

Behind him, one of the Lightning Legion’s ebon Me-109s is racing low over the desert floor, flashes of light sparking from its nose guns.

TO BE CONTINUED!

The deadly black aircraft of the Lightning Legion continue to circle, swoop, and strafe in the uncontested skies over Drummond Air Field.

“It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. C’mon, boys,” Buzz urges. “Hurry up and get some planes in the air so you can drive those rats off.”

Still handcuffed to the disabled staff car, the test pilot is stuck on the sidelines as the aerial attackers continue to beset the base.

Buzz ducks as a stray Me-109 passes overhead, a stream of bullets from its guns striking the car and kicking up geysers of dirt around him.

“Dammit, Albright! I…” The frustrated pilot’s eyes go wide with alarm as a furry brown creature rushes toward him from underneath the car.

“Fido!” Buzz exclaims as a monkey wearing a baseball jersey scurries toward him and vaults into his arms. “Stowed away under the car, huh?”

He pets the worried monkey to soothe its fears. “It’ll be alright, pal. Don’t suppose you have a handcuff key on you, though? No? Figures.”

Fido chitters happily and assumes his usual perch on Buzz’s shoulder, his tail looped loosely around his friend’s neck, as the pilot rises.

Buzz watches the Lightning Legion’s attack on the air field. “If those Me-109s stay focused on strafing the flight line, we should be ok.”

The pilot then notices dark tendrils of smoke escaping from the hood of the disabled car to which Capt. Albright handcuffed him. “Uh oh…”

Buzz yanks hard on the handcuff manacling his right arm to the door handle of the bullet-ridden car several times, but to no avail. “Nuts.”

Small fingers of flame begin to curl around the hood of the car. “Well this week just keeps getting better. Wait a sec, my Boy Scout knife!”

His free hand dives into the pocket of his tattered flight suit. “Shoot. It must’ve fallen out when I had to bail from that big zeppelin.”

Buzz searches his other pockets dejectedly. “Hang on, what’s this?” He holds up a nail file with the initials BKM engraved on it. “Bridget!”

“She must’ve slipped it into my pocket when she slugged me. Atta girl! Hope I can pick the lock on these cuffs before those flames spread.”

TO BE CONTINUED!

Two Army Air Force staff cars approach the gate of Drummond Air Field outside Saguaro, CA, twenty minutes’ drive from the Arrowspace complex. 

Framed as a spy and traitor by the shadowy forces that stole the experimental jet bomber he’d been test piloting, Buzz rides in silence. 

An MP sits beside him in the second car while another MP drives. Capt. Albright, an Army criminal investigator, is in the passenger seat. 

After they pass through the gate, the car containing Col. Stavros and his aide veers off and heads for a cluster of small office buildings. 

Minutes later, a flight of black Me-109s on a strafing run roar over the car carrying Buzz toward the stockade on the far side of the base! 

“What the…?!” The MP driver yanks the wheel to the side, causing the staff car to spin out as bullets from the attacking Me-109s pepper it. 

“Those are Lightning Legion planes!” Buzz shouts over the din of the assault on the airfield. “They must’ve been worried you’d believe me!” 

“You sure those aren’t your Soviet pals trying to keep you from spilling the beans on them?” Capt. Albright snaps. “I’m no traitor, dammit!” 

“Blast! Our engine’s dead,” the driver cries. In the distance, the Me-109s are strafing the rows of AAF fighters parked on the flight line. 

“Alright, everyone out!” Albright barks. “We’re not going to sit here twiddling our thumbs while a second Pearl Harbor attack occurs!” 

The four men pile out of the staff car, its engine disabled by the strafing assault, as a massive blast erupts several hundred yards away. 

“That bomb hit near Col. Stavros’ office,” Capt. Albright notes. “You two go help the guys on the flight line. I’ll check on the colonel.” 

“Yes, sir!” the two MPs shout and set off at a run. Albright takes out the handcuff keys and approaches Buzz. “And as for you, Brown…” 

The officer unlocks one of the cuffs from the wrist of the suspected traitor and then fastens it on a door handle of the stalled automobile. 

“You’re going to stay where I know I can find you.” Trapped in the midst of the attack, Buzz watches the captain runs toward Stavros’ office.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Overcoming his initial surprise, Red McCann rises to Buzz’s defense. “Don’t you worry, m’boy. We’ll get you the best lawyer money can hire!” 

Colonel Stavros scowls. “You should think twice about just how close you and your company want to be tied to this traitor’s actions, McCann.” 

“Even the suspicion of disloyalty on the part of Arrowspace may be enough to ensure this firm never gets another government contract.” 

Red McCann leans across his desk and jabs his finger at the AAF officer. “I’m no traitor and neither is that young man!” “Dad, please!” 

Bridget McCann quickly steps in front of her father’s desk. “I assure you we are as outraged by what has happened as you are, Colonel.” 

Buzz’s face drops in disbelief as Bridget takes Col. Stavros’ side. “Mr. Brown’s account of what transpired is too bizarre to be believed.” 

“Arrowspace is committed to working with the government to get to the bottom of this matter and seeing that the guilty parties are punished.” 

She turns toward Buzz. “No matter whom they may be.” Behind her, her father sinks deflated to his chair. “B-but, Bridget. We can’t…” 

Buzz’s expression turns grim. “That’s alright, Red. It’s enough for me to know that you still have faith in me. Unlike some turncoats.” 

Bridget grabs Buzz by the flight suit and punches him in the mouth. “You’re the only traitor here and I won’t let you destroy Arrowspace!” 

“Your daughter shows uncommon good sense, McCann.” Col. Stavros grabs the accused test pilot by the arm and shoves him toward the door. 

Alarmed and upset by the harsh treatment of his best friend, Fido the monkey leans down from Buzz’s shoulder and bites the colonel’s hand. 

Col. Stavros curses in pain and bats at the small brown monkey as it scampers across Red McCann’s desk and vaults through an open window. 

“Damned dirty ape! Capt. Albright, take ‘Benedict’ Brown here back to base and lock him up till the US Attorney and FBI come claim him.” 

His hands cuffed and his head hung low, a dejected Buzz slumps along quietly as he’s escorted from the Arrowspace offices by a pair of MPs. 

TO BE CONTINUED!

“…so then I wandered until I found the highway, hitched a ride on a fruit truck, and made my way here as quick as I could,” Buzz concludes. 

While the McCanns sit in stunned silence, Col. Stavros, the AAF officer assigned to review the XB-46 project, is volcanic in his disbelief. 

“Giant zeppelin aircraft carriers, masked villains bent on conquering the world – I’ve never heard such unmitigated balderdash in my life!” 

Capt. Albright, head of a parallel criminal investigation of Arrowspace, enters the office and sets a small metal lockbox on the desk. 

“As you ordered, sir, the MPs searched Mr. Brown’s locker. They found a wad of horse race betting slips in his jacket pocket and this box.” 

“Wait, I can explain…” “Save it, Brown!” Col. Stavros snaps as he grabs a letter opener and uses it to force the lock on the metal box. 

He opens the lid, reaches inside, drops three bundles of twenty dollar bills on the desk one by one, and then draws out a sheet of paper. 

Col. Stavros’ face twists into a sneer of disgust as he reads the sheet. He tosses it to the desk in front of Red McCann. “Read it yourself.” 

“Time for the truth, Brown, not that idiotic claptrap you stitched together from comic books and Saturday afternoon serials,” Stavros snarls. 

“You stole the XB-46, flew it to a rendezvous point, and sold it to the Soviets to cover your gambling debts. Capt. Albright, arrest him!” 

“That’s a lie!” Buzz shouts. “Dr. Zeus ordered Moseley to plant that evidence in my locker if I refused to join the Lightning Legion!” 

“You can’t pin your betrayal on him, you lying weasel,” Col. Stavros says. “We already interrogated Moseley first thing this morning.” 

“He claims he spent the night in the pilots’ bunkhouse and the gate guards confirmed they didn’t see him leave or re-enter the compound.” 

“I already told you he stowed away on the XB-46. He must’ve climbed the fence later or snuck back inside a delivery truck,” Buzz explains. 

“You have the right to remain silent,” Capt. Albright says as he handcuffs the indignant pilot. “I’d think about exercising it if I were you.” 

TO BE CONTINUED!

Frantically, Buzz tries to get a grip on the end of the snapped ripcord as he continues to plummet toward the ground in the dead of night.

Fragments from the ricocheting bullet that left shrapnel in his arm had also partially severed his parachute’s ripcord near the pull ring.

The roaring wind batters him as he carefully draws the torn end of the ripcord out so he can twine it about his fingers for a better grip.

Hopeful he at last has a strong enough hold on it, Buzz yanks firmly on the ripcord. “Hallelujah,” he croaks hoarsely as his chute deploys.

He peers down into the darkness as he drifts silently through the night, not knowing what might lie below or how far away the ground is. 

Col. Stavros slams the palm of his hand down on the desk of Arrowspace’s president, Red McCann. “Where the hell is the XB-46 Javelin?!”

Standing behind him, Arrowspace VP Bridget McCann squeezes her father’s shoulder as he flushes with pent-up rage at the colonel’s tone.

Through the open door, she sees Army investigator Capt. Albright directing a group of military policemen as they carry away stacks of boxes.

“We are working diligently to discover what happened,” Bridget says. “We have sev—” “I don’t want excuses, Miss McCann. I want answers!”

“Your test pilot ran off with a secret jet bomber prototype that was developed with government funding. Now where is he?!” “Here.” “Buzz!”

A bedraggled Buzz Brown, with his flight suit tattered and a dirty bandage wrapped around his right bicep, tramps wearily into the office.

Fido, Buzz’s pet monkey, shrieks excitedly and leaps from the desktop into his best friend’s arms. “I missed you, too, pal,” the pilot says.

Arrowspace’s president springs from his chair. “What happened up there, son? Are you all right? And where in the blue blazes is my plane?!”

“I’m fine, Red. About the Javelin, however…” An irate Col. Stavros strides toward Buzz and points his finger an inch from the flyer’s nose.

“You better have a damn good explanation for your conduct yesterday, mister, or I’ll see to it you spend the rest of your life in Alcatraz!”

TO BE CONTINUED!

On the run, Buzz snatches a parachute pack from a hook on the wall in the hangar deck of the mammoth aircraft carrier zeppelin Olympus.

“Arrestare! Halt!” A bullet fired by the pursuing Lightning Legion member thuds into one of the other parachute packs hanging on the rack.

Showing the skills that made him an All-American fullback, the fleeing pilot runs a shifting course and cuts behind a row of parked aircraft.

With the planes providing cover, Buzz dashes toward what looks like an escape scuttle 60 feet ahead on the side wall of the hangar deck.

He spins the wheel to unlock the small hatch and pushes it open just as his pursuer rounds the corner of the stowed Me-109s and resumes fire.

Buzz grunts as fragments from a ricocheting bullet pierce his arm. Without pausing to don the parachute harness, he dives through the hatch.

Instantly, he’s hit by the shock of the thin, minus-70 degree air as he falls away from the Lightning Legion airship at 40,000 feet.

The stars above and city lights below rapidly trade places as he tumbles through the night, one hand desperately gripping the parachute pack. 

Knowing he has only seconds left before he blacks out due to lack of oxygen, Buzz struggles to don the parachute harness as he plummets. 

He forces his arms through the straps and his frozen fingers fumble with the ice-cold clasps as he loses the fight against unconsciousness.

Buzz’s eyelids flutter open and his heart immediately begins pounding jackhammer fast as he realizes he’s still falling like a modern Icarus.

“HO-LEEEE…!” Acting quickly, he arches his back and spread-eagles his limbs to stabilize his free-fall and slow his rate of descent.

The air being sucked into his lungs still felt thin and insubstantial, but at least it held enough oxygen to allow him to remain alert.

It was hard to determine how far he’d fallen in the dark, but he guessed he’d dropped 25-30,000 feet over 3-4 minutes of unconsciousness. 

Eager to slow his earthward plunge, Buzz locates the handle of the parachute ripcord and yanks hard, only to have it come off in his hand!

TO BE CONTINUED!

“About time you got back, Teodoro. Hope you remembered to put cream in my coffee this time. Don’t know how you drink that stuff straight.” 

Startled by a strange voice in the half-lit hangar, Buzz turns right and sees the back of a man inspecting a partly disassembled jet engine. 

With a shock, he realizes it’s one of the advanced, fuel efficient new engines Arrowspace fitted on the XB-46 Javelin experimental bomber. 

Buzz edges silently toward the man as he continues studying the jet turbine. “I’ve never seen a fuel aspiration system like this, Teodoro.” 

“I think I’m…” The mechanic pauses in startlement as he turns around and realizes Buzz isn’t the Lightning Legion comrade he’d expected. 

Surprised, the mechanic fumbles to grab a heavy wrench from a nearby tray of tools as Buzz charges toward him in the Olympus’ hangar deck. 

The rushing pilot drops his fist to the level of his boot-tops before rocketing it upward in a thunderous smash against the mechanic’s chin. 

As the kayoed Lightning Legion crewman catapults backward, Buzz weighs the viability of escaping in one of the Me-109s stowed in the hangar. 

He’d need to singlehandedly prep a plane, push it to the elevator, lower it to the flight deck, and drop the gate for take-off. Fat chance. 

Buzz pivots as the hangar door opens and a man enters carrying two mugs, which he drops as he reaches toward his holster. “Basta, spia!” 

Buzz ducks for cover behind the partly disassembled XB-46 engine pod as the shaven-headed, hawk-nosed Lightning Legion crewman draws a Luger. 

“Brilliant escape plan, ace,” Buzz mumbles while a stream of 9mm bullets ricochet from the jet turbine nacelle with vicious ‘spang!’ sounds. 

As he peers around the side of the engine, Buzz sees the man he assumes must be Teodoro edging back toward a wall-mounted phone as he fires. 

“6… 7… 8…” The pilot smirks as his whispered counting is followed by the ‘clack’ of the Luger’s hammer striking an empty firing chamber. 

When the gunman pulls a fresh magazine from his belt pouch and hurriedly reloads, Buzz dashes toward a rack of parachutes. “Now for Plan B!” 

TO BE CONTINUED!

The gold-masked leader of the Lightning Legion leans forward in his command chair. “When I want your advice, Moseley, I’ll ask for it.” 

The cowed pilot lowers his eyes and mumbles an apology. “You will return to Arrowspace immediately and resume your cover,” Dr. Zeus orders. 

“The pilot who flies you back to Saguaro will give you a bag containing false evidence implicating Buzz in the theft of the XB-46 Javelin.” 

“Unless you receive counterorders, you will place that evidence in Mr. Brown’s locker at Arrowspace tomorrow morning.” “Yes, Dr. Zeus.” 

“Blaming a phony conspiracy for the theft will divert attention until we are ready to make our organization and our aims known to the world.” 

In the dark of the locked zeppelin cabin that serves as his cell, Buzz checks the phosphorescent hands on his watch. “1 a.m. Time to go.” 

Quietly, he rises from the mattress-less bunk and puts his ear to the crack of the pocket door his captors locked from the outside. Silence. 

He reaches into the pocket of his flight suit and draws out an old Boy Scout knife. “Glad those bright lads never thought to search me.” 

The captive pilot opens the screwdriver tool on the knife and starts removing the screws from the metal plate around the folding door handle. 

He pulls the plate off, peers at the lock mechanism inside, and then inserts and twists his knife until the bolt retracts. “Open sesame.” 

Stealthily, Buzz creeps along a dimly-lit corridor onboard the gigantic zeppelin Olympus, flying base of the Lightning Legion raiders. 

With most of the airship’s crew and its contingent of pilots asleep at that early morning hour, the only sounds are muffled machine noises. 

The furtive pilot ducks into a ladderwell and descends toward the lower decks where the flying goliath’s squadron of planes are housed. 

Buzz pauses on a landing and peers through a porthole in an airtight door leading to the hangar deck before easing it open and stepping in. 

Rows of black Me-109 fighters, their wings folded up to save space, line the sides of the hangar. Buzz freezes in alarm as a voice calls out. 

TO BE CONTINUED!

“You’ll never get your hands on an A-bomb,” Buzz advises. “The security around those babies is too tight.” Dr. Zeus shakes his head. 

“No, not atom bombs. The weapon we’ll steal is one the US military doesn’t understand and has never used, one they’ve forgotten they have.” 

“Buzz, I want you to lead our raid on the secret armory where this super weapon is stored. Once we have it, we will be unstoppable.” 

The gold-masked leader of the aerial raiders rests his hand on Buzz’s shoulder. “Join with us. Become a member of the Lightning Legion.” 

“We are at the threshold of a new era,” Dr. Zeus says. “Be with us in the vanguard of a wave of change that will sweep across the world!” 

Buzz mulls over Dr. Zeus’ offer to join the Lightning Legion, a modern aerial version of the conquering hordes of Genghis Khan and Attila. 

“That’s some kind of sales pitch. Can I have some time to think it over?” Dr. Zeus drapes his arm over Buzz’s shoulders. “But of course!” 

The pair circles the dais in the center of the room and Dr. Zeus climbs back into his command chair. “You may have until sunrise to decide.” 

“Fail to join us by then and I’ll have you thrown from the Olympus with no parachute. We’ll see how well you can fly without a plane.” 

The Lightning Legion’s commander speaks into the intercom built into his chair arm. “Send Moseley up with the guards for our… guest.” 

Clark Moseley, hijacker of the XB-46 Javelin experimental jet bomber and Buzz’s kidnapper, ascends the stairs trailed by two armed guards. 

The sentries take position to either side of Buzz. Moseley smirks at his fellow test pilot. “I can’t wait to get back to Arrowspace, Brown.” 

“Bet they’re weeping and wailing over how their prodigal pilot betrayed ‘em and stole their prize plane. This’ll finish Arrowspace for good.” 

He laughs abrasively. “I’ll be sure to let that tasty redhead Bridget cry on my shoulder. Right after I shoot that fleabitten pet of yours.” 

“Enough, Moseley!” Dr. Zeus barks. “I’ve asked Buzz to join us. Show him the respect you would a comrade.” “What?! You should kill him now!”

TO BE CONTINUED!

Dr. Zeus, masked leader of the band of aerial raiders known as the Lightning Legion, gestures to the clouds below his flying flagship. 

“This aircraft carrier zeppelin can climb higher than the attack planes of any earthly nation, putting us safely beyond their reach.” 

“Fighters launched from the Olympus will carry out surprise attacks on the air defenses of the United States,” the mysterious tyrant reveals. 

“Before year’s end, America’s ability to defend itself from aerial attack will be destroyed and the government will yield to our demands.” 

“But we will be merciful overlords. We will allow America to carry on much as before… Provided they pay $20 million in annual tribute!” 

Buzz is startled into silence by Dr. Zeus’ audacious scheme of global conquest. “This airship is but the first of many,” the invader boasts. 

“Soon the Lightning Legion will have a fleet of such ships armed with advanced aircraft, all powered by Arrowspace’s new jet engine design.” 

“Our swarm of flying carriers will spread across the globe and extend our reach to every country on Earth. None shall escape our power.” 

“After witnessing America’s downfall, the rest of the world will quickly accede to our demands for tribute,” Dr. Zeus continues gloatingly. 

“We will order every surrendering nation to decommission its air forces, giving the Lightning Legion uncontested mastery of the skies!” 

Dr. Zeus raises his gauntleted hand and slowly clenches it into a fist. “Where Alexander, Napoleon, and Hitler failed, I will succeed.” 

Buzz nods and whistles appreciatively. “That’s certainly not a penny ante scheme. You still have a disadvantage at the moment, though.” 

“The U.S. Army Air Force currently outnumbers the Lightning Legion 100-to-1. Attacking with the forces you have now seems like suicide.” 

Dr. Zeus’ booming laughter echoes through the chamber. “Regardless of how it may seem, I assure you I am not a mad dog attacking recklessly.” 

“Shortly we will possess a weapon of such power that it will even the odds against us… A weapon we shall seize from America’s own arsenal!” 

TO BE CONTINUED!

The black-clad, gold-masked Dr. Zeus, leader of the mysterious Lightning Legion, rests his fists on his hips and considers the captive pilot. 

“We can use a pilot of your skill and courage, Buzz.” “The guy you sent to shoot me down at the flying circus said I was marked for death.” 

Dr. Zeus laughs. “That is still an option, of course, but you’ve proven your mettle. Killing you would be a waste of resources. Join us.” 

Buzz is quiet for a moment. “And do what? Shoot down old planes and steal new ones? Seems pretty penny ante. I like more reward for my risk.” 

“As do we all. I assure you the Lightning Legion’s aims are far loftier than petty criminality,” hints the ominous chief of the dark raiders. 

The masked leader of the Lightning Legion steps down from the circular dais and gestures to the captive pilot. “Come, Buzz. Walk with me.” 

The pair cross to the wall of windows at the front of the chamber. Beyond the glass, an unbroken sea of clouds stretches beneath the Olympus. 

“What you have witnessed thus far are merely the opening moves in a far-reaching game. Soon, we shall make bolder and greater gambits.” 

“Toward what end?” Buzz inquires. “Nothing less than the conquest of the world.” “They’ve got cemeteries full of guys who have tried that.” 

Dr. Zeus shakes his head. “Not in the way that we shall. The Lightning Legion will sweep across the skies like the hordes of Genghis Khan!” 

“Past conquerors concerned themselves with territory and occupation. We care nothing for borders or earthbound states,” Dr. Zeus explains. 

“We shall build an Empire of the Air. The last war demonstrated terrestrial nations with map-drawn borders are an outmoded, illusory relic.” 

“Our realm will be the sky itself and as the Earth lies under the sky, so shall all the nations of the Earth be under our boundless dominion.” 

Buzz frowns skeptically. “Most of those countries have their own air forces, you know. Are you expecting them to surrender without a fight?” 

Dr. Zeus laughs. “That’s precisely what they’ll do after they watch us destroy the defenses of the most powerful nation on Earth… America!”

TO BE CONTINUED!

Buzz marches through the corridors of the giant airship Olympus in the custody of a brace of Lightning Legion thugs armed with machine guns. 

His grim captors, clad in identical black jumpsuits worn over black turtleneck sweaters, escort him into a cylindrical elevator at gunpoint. 

Their black berets feature a gold lightning bolt pin above the brow. Winged pilot badges, also gold, adorn the breast of their jumpsuits. 

After ascending in silence, the lift doors open and Buzz steps out onto the zeppelin’s busy bridge. He quickly scans its layout and staffing. 

The barrel of a machine gun prods him toward a spiral staircase leading to the level above. “Move it, pal. No one keeps Dr. Zeus waiting.” 

Buzz steps off the top stair into the quarters of Dr. Zeus, leader of that mysterious band of aerial raiders known as the Lightning Legion. 

In the center of the chamber, a large command chair atop a circular dais faces a wall of floor to ceiling windows opposite the staircase. 

The walls to either side are covered in padded black leather studded with gold brads and edged in gilt trim. “Sir, we’ve brought the captive.” 

With a mechanical whir, the dais slowly rotates so the command chair faces Buzz and his Lightning Legion guards. “Leave us.” “Aye aye, sir.” 

Silhouetted against the twilight streaming through the glass wall behind him, the man seated atop the dais remains swathed in shadows.  

The dark, mysterious figure presses a button on the arm of his massive command chair and a spotlight shines down upon him from the ceiling. 

“Welcome to the Olympus, Buzz Brown. Your arrival here is unexpected, though not unwelcome.” Buzz bows sarcastically. “Dr. Zeus, I presume?” 

The mystery man rises from his command chair. A gold stripe runs down the side of his black jodhpurs and gold spurs adorn his riding boots. 

Gold buttons gleam from his double-breasted black tunic. Gold braid and a black half-cape hang from his shoulders. “Yes. I am Dr. Zeus.” 

Buzz starts as he realizes the voice coming through the grille of the solid gold mask the man wears over a black hood is oddly familiar!

TO BE CONTINUED!

Bound to his chair, Buzz can only watch as rival test pilot Clark Moseley guides the hijacked XB-46 on a rear approach to the Olympus. 

The enormous airship blots out the sky overhead as the stolen jet nears the opening in the back of the dirigible’s broad gondola. 

Even with the drawbridge-like ramp fully lowered, the aircraft bay entrance still only measures a scant 200 ft wide by 100 ft high. 

It’s a dangerously tight fit for the XB-46. Moseley carefully aligns the jet with the landing ramp and closes on it at a slight climb. 

Both flyers hold their breath as the Javelin’s wheels make contact with the ramp and the plane heads into the belly of the flying beast. 

Moseley cuts the throttle, lowers the flaps, and applies the brakes as the XB-46 Javelin rapidly ascends the Olympus’ landing ramp. 

The still-speeding jet quickly crests the top of the ramp and hurtles along the 500 ft long expanse of the enclosed flight deck. 

Buzz tenses up as they rush toward the rope lattice of the emergency braking net that stretches across the rear quarter of the flight deck. 

The jet prototype jolts suddenly as its newly-added tailhook catches on an arrestor wire, triggering the Olympus’ hydraulic braking system. 

As the Javelin rapidly decelerates, Moseley turns to the still bound Buzz and sneers. “End of the line. Last stop for you, golden boy.”  

Locked inside an unused officer’s cabin onboard the zeppelin Olympus, the Lightning Legion’s flying airbase, Buzz paces in frustration. 

Three hours had passed since his arrival via the stolen XB-46 jet bomber as the captive of fellow test pilot-turned-hijacker Clark Moseley. 

Eager to learn more regarding the deadly Lightning Legion and its mysterious leader Dr. Zeus, Buzz had refrained from trying to escape. 

Soon, however, he’d need to force the issue. The threat posed by the shadowy raiders and their mammoth flying carrier was too great. 

The restive pilot freezes as someone unlocks the cabin door and slides it open. “Buzz Brown, Dr. Zeus commands you to appear before him!”

TO BE CONTINUED!

The radio speaker in the hijacked XB-46 Javelin jet bomber crackles to life. “Olympus this is Thunderbird 1. Request permission to land.” 

“You are cleared for landing. The recovery team is in position and the flight deck is ready. Commence your approach.” “Roger, Olympus.” 

Directly ahead of the stolen bomber prototype looms the Olympus, a massive dirigible at least three times larger than any known zeppelin. 

Through the Javelin’s Plexiglas nosecone, Buzz watches the lead Me-109 break right and then wheel around to line up behind the giant airship. 

“Thunderbirds 2 and 3, this is Olympus: Maintain holding pattern until the flight deck is clear. Deviate and you’ll be shot from the sky.” 

As Moseley steers the hijacked XB-46 in an oval orbit around the slower-moving Olympus, Buzz studies the monster airship’s unusual design. 

Broader and flatter than conventional zeppelins, the Olympus’ airfoil-like shape makes it resemble a puffy surfboard rather than a cigar. 

Five enormous turbofans in rotating nacelles are arrayed in a line down each flank of the 900 ft long, 300 ft wide, and 175 ft thick airship. 

A narrow conning tower rises atop the titanic dirigible while the long, broad, gondola girdling its underbelly serves as an aircraft bay. 

Four black fins, each marked with a jagged yellow stripe, are arranged in an x-shaped pattern at the rear of the mighty flying leviathan.  

Dozens of .50 caliber machine gun blister turrets and 20mm cannon mounts track the XB-46 experimental jet bomber as it circles the Olympus. 

The speaker in the XB-46’s cabin breaks the tense silence. “This is Olympus. The flight deck is clear. Resume aircraft recovery operations.” 

The voice of the Lightning Legion pilot in the black Me-109 shadowing the bomber prototype comes over the radio next. “Your turn, Moseley.” 

“Olympus is heading 268 at 100 knots. Approach the ramp lowered from the rear of the gondola at a slight climb. Try for a 3-wheel touchdown.” 

“Unlike with carriers at sea, you can’t pull up and go again if you hit the landing ramp wrong. Miss the angle and you’re dead. Good luck.”

TO BE CONTINUED!

Moseley continues his discussion with the unknown Lightning Legion officer. “Fine. I’ll deliver both the Javelin and Brown to Dr. Zeus.”

“Give me the coordinates to the Legion base and I’ll be on my way.” “Nix. That’s not something you need to know,” the other man growls. 

Moseley bristles angrily. “Look, I’m no punk delivery boy! I sabotaged the other test flights so I could get in position to steal the XB-46.” 

“You’d have no prayer of getting this plane if not for me. Maybe I’ll just fly it back to the Arrowspace field and—” Buzz hears a gun cock. 

“You’ll do exactly as you’re told, Moseley, or I’ll bury your body in the desert and deliver the Javelin to Dr. Zeus my damn self.” 

Through the open hatch, Buzz hears a man with a foreign accent address the Lightning Legion officer. “They’ve welded on the tailhook, sir.” 

“Fine, we’re done here. Moseley, take this plane back up. There are two Me-109s circling overhead. You’ll follow them to your destination.” 

“Try anything and those escort planes will shoot you down like a dog. You got that?” “Yeah,” the cowed hijacker mutters in response. “Good.” 

The hatch clangs shut and the traitorous test pilot slinks sullenly back to his seat and throttles up the stolen bomber’s jet engines. 

“Even your bandit pals know you’re yellow, Moseley,” Buzz laughs. “Shut your mouth or I’ll deliver you as a corpse. Doubt Dr. Zeus will care.”

__________________ 

Still bound to his seat, Buzz watches as they trail a black Me-109 identical to the one that had attacked him and Andy at the flying circus. 

The captive pilot glances periodically at the XB-46’s instrument panel as they continue toward their rendezvous with the mysterious Dr. Zeus. 

Given they were cruising through a dense cloudbank at nearly 37,000 feet, Buzz thought it likely they were still far from their destination. 

They had been following the lead escort plane for nearly an hour, while the other Me-109 kept the stolen jet in its gun sights from the rear. 

“Holy mother of…” a startled Moseley mumbles from the co-pilot’s seat. Through a gap in the clouds Buzz spies what seems an impossible sight.

TO BE CONTINUED!

“Unnnhhh.” Groggily, Buzz regains consciousness. As his eyes flutter open and blearily strain to focus, he notices the ropes binding him.

Through the Plexiglas nosecone of the experimental jet bomber, Buzz sees the flat floor of the desert streaking by barely 100 feet below.

Turning his throbbing head to the right, the still-woozy pilot spies the mysterious aerial hijacker now in control of the XB-46. “Moseley.”

Clark Moseley, the test pilot who’d been next in line to take the Javelin through its flight trials if not for Buzz, smirks darkly.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you, Brown?” “What the hell do you expect to accomplish with this stunt?” “Wait and see, prima donna.”

A strange voice comes over the radio. “Thunderbird, this is Thor. Rendezvous point secure.” “Roger, Thor. ETA two minutes,” Moseley responds.

The hijacking pilot pulls back the throttle levers to slow the stolen jet bomber prototype. “What’s this about?” Buzz asks. “Where are we?”

The other aviator ignores him and begins peering intently through the XB-46’s Plexiglas nosecone at the desert floor shooting by below.

After the Javelin bomber passes over a row of red pennants waving from telescoping poles, Moseley banks the jet and doubles back to land it.

As the XB-46 rolls to a stop on the makeshift airstrip of hard-baked sand, three Jeeps packed with heavily armed men quickly surround it.

Near the rear of the jet’s crew cabin, an access hatch swings open from the outside. “Everything ok?” “Yeah. You from the Lightning Legion?”

Buzz strains to peer back over his shoulder but can’t see the man to whom Moseley is speaking. “Who’d you think we were wiseguy, Triple-A?”

“What I thought is that you were competent!” the hijacker snarls. “You failed to kill Brown. I had to stowaway onboard and hijack this jet!”

“Watch your lip, pal. Something went wrong with the ambush at the air show. He still alive?” “Yeah, I tied him up. You want to take him?” 

The other man pauses. “No, better to leave him with you. Dr. Zeus will want to see Brown. He can decide whether to keep him or kill him.”

TO BE CONTINUED!

Buzz eagerly puts the XB-46 Javelin experimental jet bomber into a climb and raises its air speed to 450 mph, three-fourths of its maximum. 

When the prototype aircraft reaches 30,000 feet, or three-fourths its top altitude, he levels off and radios the Arrowspace tower. 

“Test Level 2 achieved, Control.” After having him maintain his status for a few minutes, Buzz is ordered to repeat his earlier maneuvers. 

“Maneuvering tests completed, Control. Still no issues with handling or engine performance.” “Roger, Four-Six. Go with autopilot test.” 

“Thus ends the exciting part of this flight,” Buzz grumbles to himself as a shadowy figure creeps stealthily nearer inside the jet’s cabin. 

Buzz presses the autopilot switch on the experimental bomber’s console and releases his grip on the jet’s steering yoke. “Autopilot engaged.” 

The Arrowspace controller acknowledges his report over the radio speaker. “Roger, Four-Six. Maintain current state.” “Roger, Control.” 

The test pilot folds his hands over his stomach and twiddles his thumbs. The unbroken sky blazes blue through the plane’s Plexiglas nosecone. 

“And just like that I go from pilot to passenger,” Buzz mutters. The controller’s voice comes back over the radio. OK, Four-Six.” 

“That’s a wrap. Disengage autopilot and bring her back to the barn.” “Roger, Control.” A dark figure looms menacingly over Buzz’s seat. 

Buzz regrips the steering yoke of the XB-46 Javelin experimental bomber and leans toward the autopilot switch. “Time to take back the reins.” 

Before the pilot can touch the switch, the shadowy figure standing behind his seat savagely swings a wrench down across the nape of his neck. 

Knocked instantly unconscious by the blow, Buzz slumps limply to the side. His attacker produces a length of rope and binds him to his chair. 

“Four-Six this is Contr—” The mysterious intruder switches the Javelin’s radio to a different frequency and slips into the co-pilot seat. 

The unknown hijacker then cuts off the autopilot and opens the jet’s throttle wide, leaving the chase planes observing its flight far behind.

TO BE CONTINUED!