Might as well throw up another rejected short I wrote a few years back that didn't sell. This one's from 2012 and was submitted to a comedic SF/F...thing. With the only thought running through my head was "hey, this sounds fun, let's go nuts," I ended up writing a pulpy throwback story with absurdly inaccurate "science" and broadly stroked characters. It was a blast to write and, naturally, it was flat-out ignored, probably because I have a character use the word "dames" unironically and other Problematic™ things. It doesn't even discuss any of The Issues™.
Re-reading it now, that's probably because I hadn't written a pulp pastiche at all, but stumbled into an ACTUAL pulp story. Sure, its a lighthearted bit of silly fluff, but its also nonstop action, romance and ADVENTURE.
(As an aside, I even wrote a green beam weapon into it without having any knowledge of A. Merritt or the ket guns of The Moon Pool. )
The Peril of Pogo-Pogo
Island!
By K.P. Kalvaitis
“Dynamo” Dave Callahan, dashing
stunt pilot, marksman and adventurer awakened on the sandy beach of a
distant Pacific Island, blinking up at the Sun and wishing he had a
mouthful of margaritas instead of sand.
“Boy am I glad you're awake, boss,”
a voice greeted him as he sat up and spat out half the beach.
“Rick!” Callahan shouted as he
recognized his trusty mechanic and sidekick, Rick Santos.
“Over here, boss,” Rick said,
waving Callahan over to a small campfire made near their downed
plane. “You took a nasty bump in the landing.”
“And the Silver Streak?
What about my baby?”
“Also took a
nasty bump. I'm doing what I can to get her purring again, but
without most of my tools and a five-and-dime, it looks like we're
sh-”
“Language,
Rick!” Dave admonished. “Just because we're trapped on a deserted
island is no excuse to act uncivilized.”
“Sorry, boss,”
Rick shrugged.
Callahan patted
the shining silver sides of his plane gently in apology. “You know,
Rick, I'm beginning to think that this Sharkey character we've come
halfway across the world for is more than he seems.”
“He's probably a
spy. One of them Fifth Columnists or something,” Rick said. “You
look hungry, boss.”
“Famished,”
Callahan said, sitting down at the campfire. “What'cha got there?”
Rick handed Dave a
stick of grilled meat. “Lizard. Watch out for tiny bones.”
“Thanks Rick, I
don't know what I'd do without you.”
“Die alone in a
fiery plane crash, boss.”
“Ha! Ain't that
the truth,” Callahan said, biting into dinner. “Got anything to
wash this down?”
For an answer,
Rick handed Dave a coconut. Dave cracked it in half against a rock
and slurped some of the juices.
After a quick and
quiet dinner, the two reclined against the plane and watched the sun
go down.
“Where do you
reckon we are, boss?” Rick asked. “Its not on any of the charts.”
“Oh, its
probably some speck of dirt too tiny and insignificant to be caught
up in this crazy war the world's got itself messed up in. In a way, I
wish there were more islands like it in the world...”
“I'd prefer
Honolulu myself, boss,” Rick said. “And speaking of coconuts, I
sure wish we had some dames around to share that spectacular sunset
with.”
“You've got a
one-track mind, Rick. Women are just a distraction.”
A twig snapped
nearby and the two men shut up, ears perked. After another twig
snapped, they jumped up, ready for a fight.
They weren't ready
for thirty islanders armed with spears surrounding them. In a flash,
Dave had his revolver in his hand and was clicking the trigger
futilely at their leader.
“Gun's jammed!”
Dave exclaimed the obvious.
“Sand and the
salty sea air must've gotten to it, boss! What now?”
The leader of the
islanders, wearing a giant headdress, shouted at them in his language
and his tribesmen silently grabbed the adventurers and tied them up.
“Guess we do
what our hosts tell us to do, chum,” Callahan shrugged.
They
were led through the jungle at spearpoint in eerie silence. Night had
fallen and without torches, Dave and Rick had difficulty keeping
track of where they were. Obvious landmarks included rivers, a
village, and finally a clearing on a mountainside where three rows of
giant stone heads stared serenely out over the Pacific.
The leader
approached the biggest idol and pulled a hidden lever. With the
mechanical sound of gears and pistons, a passageway opened up,
revealing a stairway into the mountain lit with incandescent bulbs.
“Looks like
we're not the only visitors here after all,” Dave said before a
storm of words from the leader silenced him. A few spear prods nudged
the two down into the entrance.
After a walk that
seemed like an hour, they stepped into a massive control room
whirring with machinery. Dominating a wall was a gigantic map of the
world with the capitals of the major powers, Axis and Allied, clearly
marked.
“Hey boss, look
over there, its-”
“Sharkey!”
Callahan shouted, straining against his restraints.
The man known as
Sharkey turned at the sound of his name. “Callahan? So you really
did come all this way to hunt me down? I'm flattered.”
“Were you
flattered that I stopped you from flooding the streets with
counterfeit sawbucks?”
Sharkey's smile
hardened. He had an angular face, accentuated by the sharp widow's
peak and his slicked back hair. He wore a pinstripe suit and took a
cigar out of a pocket.
“Business is
business. You've got yours, I've got mine,” Sharkey said, trying to
shrug off his prior failure. “You're persistent, I'll give you
that.”
“Who's your
boss, Sharkey?” Callahan demanded. “You're clearly no
small-timer. Is it Hitler? Mussolini? Hirohito?”
The flick of
Sharkey's lighter caught the attention of the other occupant in the
room. Metallic boots clanked loudly, catching Callahan's voice in his
throat.
“Boss!” Rick
shouted. “L-look at his h-head!!”
Dave and Rick's
eyes widened as they saw something they never thought possible,
because attached to those metal boots was a metal body, and mounted
atop the broad steel shoulders, was a jar with a brain floating
within!
“And again I
must remind you not to light an open flame within my facility,
Sharkey,” A cold, clipped voice crackled through speakers on the
mechanical chest. The accent was clearly German.
“Sorry sir,”
Sharkey said and closed the lighter.
“My God! He's
some kind of robut!” Callahan shouted.
“RoBOT is the
word you are looking for, Mr. Callahan. And I assure you I am no such
thing, for the brain you see before you is the transcendentally
brilliant mind of Dr. Gerhard Klein!” the speaker corrected.
“Hitler's top
scientist! Sharkey, I knew you were scum but selling out to the
Ratzis is a new low!”
“What can I say
Callahan? I'm a sucker for gold bars. Besides, the Doc here is paving
the way for the future, and I intend to profit from it.”
“The only thing
in your future, buster is my fist smashing your dirty traitor nose!”
Rick screamed and tried to run forward.
“Easy Rick,
we'll get our chance,” Dave said, calming the youth down.
“Amusing, but I
have no time for this right now.” Dr. Klein snapped his metal
fingers. “Take them to...the pit.”
The tribal chief
shouted more commands, and the islanders silently dragged Dave and
Rick away from the room.
“I don't like
this boss,” Rick said as they were led to the rim of a ledge.
“Neither do I.
But we've been through tougher scrapes.”
“Did any of them
have a Nazi brain in a jar?”
“Point taken,
Riiiiiiiiiiiiick!”
Callahan's voice
echoed across the abyss as he and Rick were finally pushed over the
edge into darkness.
The drop was a
surprisingly brief one. Dave landed roughly on the hard stone floor
in a pool of light created by the single light bulb hanging above.
When he managed to suck air back into his lungs, he called out to his
sidekick.
“You okay
buddy?”
“I think so,”
was Rick's reply. “I landed on something soft.”
A third voice
groaned. Dave heard Rick yelp and there was a brief struggle before
Rick was flung over to Dave's side.
“Blazes! I don't
know what that is, but it's got a kick like a mule!”
“Steady, Rick,”
Dave said. “It could be anything. A wild animal, one of Dr. Klein's
mad experiments, or even-”
“A blonde!”
the startled Rick said as their neighbor shifted into the light. Like
them, her arms were bound behind her back.
“My name's Dr.
Amanda Knoxville, you heel,” she snapped.
“Oh good, I
think I dislocated my shoulder in the fall,” Rick said.
“I'm a doctor of
anthropology,” she corrected.
“Anthro-what?”
Dave asked.
“Anthropology. I
study primitive cultures of the past.”
“At least you're
not a reporter like last time,” Dave said. “A pleasure to meet
you, Dr. Knoxville. I'm “Dynamo” Dave Callahan and the bundle of
hormones is my trusty mechanic Rick Santos.”
“We've met,”
Rick smiled wistfully. Amanda made a face that said “yuk” in any
language.
“I don't suppose
you've got a way out of here?” she asked.
“Our plane's on
the beach, but needs some more work before it can get airborne
again.”
“Well that's a
start.”
“How'd a looker
like you end up on an island like this?” Rick asked.
“I was studying
the culture and habits of the South Pacific islands. I've been on
Pogo-Pogo for a month studying the native Pogos when that maniac
arrived.”
Dave whistled. “He
built all this in a month?”
“No. He's
already been here before. Some of the natives worshiped him like a
god. The rest were just afraid of his power. One of their hunters,
Manu, saw an opportunity to take control of the tribe and sided with
Klein and led them to the clearing where one of the statues was
modified with Klein's Hypno-Ray. Manu sold his people out and now
rules over a tribe of mindless slaves!”
Rick tensed up.
“The fiend! Is there a way to reverse the Hypno-Ray?”
Amanda shook her
head sadly. “No. I'm afraid the greed of one man has utterly
destroyed a culture that has existed for centuries.”
Tied behind his
back, the clenching of Rick's fist lost its visual impact. “What
kind of monster does that to his own people?”
“Steady Rick,”
Dave said. “We need a calm head to get out of this.”
“I'm open to
suggestions.”
“The pit isn't
too deep,” Amanda said. “Working together three people could
probably climb out of it with some effort. Only problem is these
ropes.”
“If only we had
something to cut through them...” Dave grunted.
“Wait, that's
it!” Rick's eyes lit up. “They didn't take my pocketknife out of
my back pocket!”
“Rick, that's
perfect!” Dave said. “Let me see if I can...”
After a few
minutes of awkward fumbling, cutting, and climbing, the three were
rubbing their sore, but free, wrists and looking down the darkened
corridor leading back to Dr. Klein's command room.
A spear clanged
into the metal wall next to Dr. Knoxville and clattered to the floor.
“The Pogos!”
she shouted.
Down the hallway,
Manu and his headdress were waving another spear and furiously
pointing at the group.
“Keep the lady
safe and find us a ticket out of here, Rick!” Dynamo Dave Callahan
said, barreling down the hallway at Manu. “I've got a plan!”
“What? Are you
crazy?” Amanda shouted after him.
Rick grabbed her
by the arm and ran in the opposite direction. “Trust me lady, you
don't want to be in the radius when the boss has a plan. Let's go!”
Ten minutes later
the sound of alarms and running feet died down behind them, and Rick
opened a door to an unoccupied room and slammed it shut behind them.
The two leaned up against it, catching their breath.
“First woman to
graduate in my program,” Dr. Knoxville groaned. “I should not be
running for my life from angry natives!”
Rick pounded the
door in frustration before turning away from it. “Really? Because
that happens to me a lot and I barely finished high school.”
“You know what I
mean. Where are we?”
Rick squinted into
the darkness and found a light switch. “From all the guns I'd say
this was an armory,” he said as shelf after shelf of advanced
weapons stretched out before them.
Dr. Knoxville went
to a wall and drew back some blinds, spilling more light on the
armory. “Looks like there's an airfield out there.”
“Well that's a
relief,” Rick said, examining a pistol covered in glass tubes with
a green liquid sloshing around inside. “But it would be even better
if there was something we could fly out on.”
“There's a
plane.”
“Hmm?” Rick
strolled over to the window. His eyes lit up when he saw what she was
talking about. “That's my baby out there!” He handed Amanda the
pistol and put both hands on the window.
“What?”
“The Silver
Streak!”
“You came in
that thing?”
Rick ignored the
insult. “They must've dragged her up from the beach. Everything
looks like its still there.”
A burst of
incoherent and angry shouting came from the doorway.
“Get down!”
Dr. Knoxville shouted as she shoved Rick to the ground. A spear
crashed through the window where the mechanic had been standing.
Manu was in the
doorway, waving another spear and shouting furiously in his language.
Amanda brought the gun up and pulled the trigger.
Instead of a bang
and a bullet flying out, the gun went “Vmmmmmmuuuuuuuuu” and a
steady green beam shot out, striking Manu's chest. At first there was
no effect, but then the henchman started shaking and foam spat out of
his mouth before he collapsed into a twitching pile that slowly
stopped moving.
Amanda and Rick
stared at the gun in a mix of wonder and horror. A mechanical sqwawk
made them jump.
“Rick! Rick are
you there!” Dave's voice came in through the static.
Rick raised his
wrist and spoke into the two-way radio on it. “Found the armory,
Dave. It's...different. Where are you?”
“Almost in
position. I can see my baby on the airfield from here and-”
“We can see it
too Dave.”
“Get to the
plane and get her ready, this island's about to go sky-” Dave
grunted and Rick could hear fists, shouts, and the distinctive
“vmmmmuuuu” sounds the guns made.
“Dave? Dave!”
Rick shouted into his wrist but there was no answer. He looked at
Amanda and grabbed her arm. “Come on, we've got to go! Its about a
six-foot drop from the window. After that its a clear shot to the
plane. Watch out for broken glass.”
“Wait, slow
down!”
“You heard the
man, this island's about to become another Krakatoa!”
The two dropped
down onto the sandy ground outside the window, each carrying one of
Dr. Klein's beam guns. Rick let out a sharp “Ahh!” and continued
dropping.
“What? What's
wrong?” Amanda asked.
“My ankle! I
think I sprained it.”
“You've got to
be kidding me,” she said, helping him back up. “Can you run?”
Rick winced in
pain. “Maybe if you kiss it and make it better.”
“So no.”
“Then kiss me
instead.”
“What? No.”
“We could die at
any moment, and I saved your life.”
“I saved yours!
Twice!”
“Then I should
be kissing you.” Rick puckered up and theatrically kissed her
cheek. “I'm sorry.”
“For being a
jerk?”
“No, for not
landing on you sooner. You're very pretty.”
Dr. Knoxville
rolled her eyes and they limped across the tarmac. “What about your
boss?”
“Dave? Nah, he
wouldn't know what to do if he landed on you.”
“What?”
“You're not his
type,” Rick said as they reached the plane. “He's a good man, but
he's, ah, what was the word Sharkey used?”
“Gunsel?”
“Yeah, that.
Wait, who said that?”
Sharkey stepped
around the plane holding a gun. “For a sidekick you sure like to
talk a lot.”
“Ah!” Dr.
Knoxville shouted and fired a beam at the gangster.
“That won't work
on me, toots,” Sharkey laughed and pounded on his chest with a
metallic clang. “I'm wearing armor designed to absorb those beams
harmlessly.” He aimed an identical pistol. “You on the other
hand, probably aren't.”
An explosion
rocked the island, sending the three of them reeling.
“What the-?”
Sharkey managed before Rick got the jump on him, punching him twice
before wrestling for the gun.
A giant plume of
black smoke rose from the volcano, and sprinting headlong over the
tarmac was Dynamo Dave Callahan, clothing and hair singed around the
edges. “We've got to go! We've got to go!” he repeated constantly
as he neared the plane.
Amanda kicked the
pistol away from Sharkey's reach as Dave arrived. Sharkey kicked Rick
off of him. There was a loud rip as Rick tore off whatever he was
holding on to. The mechanic blinked in alarm as he found himself
holding not only Sharkey's jacket, but also what had been his face.
“What in
the...?” Dave asked, staring at Sharkey.
The gangster felt
his face and snarled. “So you blew my cover, huh?” He had dark
green skin covered with scales and pointed teeth. He grabbed a small
box out of a pocket and pushed a few buttons. “But don't think
you've seen the last of me, or the Space Mafia!”
There was a flash
of light and Sharkey was gone.
Dave was the first
to recover. “Everybody into the plane! We've got to go! NOW!”
The three leaped
into the Silver Streak, with Dave jumping behind the controls
and flicking switches.
“She's ready to
go, right Rick?”
“Looks like,”
Rick said before receiving a slap in the face.
“You said you
sprained your ankle!” she fumed.
“And I saved
your life!” Rick protested as Dave brought to a roaring start.
“So you expect
me to kiss you for it?”
“That IS the
custom we've established!”
Dave had no idea
what they were arguing about, and didn't care. Another tremor rocked
the island and navigating the airfield was starting to get dangerous.
He opened the throttle and with a triumphant shout, they were in the
air again.
“Dynamo” Dave looked
back at his passengers. They hadn't strapped into their seats and
were in a jumbled pile near the back of the plane.
“See? This is
the second time I saved your life,” Rick said from the pile.
“By landing on
me again!”
“Well you're
just so comfortable.”
“Mister, you owe
me a lot more than a stupid kiss for what you've put me through!”
“Fine, then I'll
pay it back with interest when we reach the mainland.”
“I didn't say I
wouldn't take the kissing as a down payment!”
As Pogo-Pogo
Island sank slowly in the west, Dynamo Dave Callahan sighed and
turned back to the controls as Rick and Amanda's argument came to a
sudden stop. He patted the plane lovingly.
“I'm glad you and I
don't have those kind of problems, baby,” he said, and settled in
for the flight ahead.
