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The Senate of the Simian World was in session in Ape City. The Council of Elders sat at their massive table, faces grave and solemn. Dr. Zaius looked down at General Urko, who stood before the assembly in a somewhat battered condition. Much of his former arrogance was gone. His uniform was dusty and there were rents and scratches on his once polished combat boots.
Against the wall stood Captain Sovak and a few other gorilla officers. They were equally untidy. Two of them carried their burnt arms in slings, and another, his foot swathed in bandages, was on crutches. All looked sullen and unhappy.
Zaius leafed through a slim file of papers on the top of the table. "According to this report, General Urko, you not only allowed the humanoid Blue-Eyes to escape---and I must remind you that this may be a talking humanoid---but you fired on an active volcano, resulting in the total destruction of all your military equipment as well as loss of life."
Urko broke in, his words confused and his voice nearly apologetic. "But---but---how was I to know that?"
He heard a light chorus of muttering. Some of it was in obvious amusement at the arrogant general's discomfort.
Dr. Zaius brought down the gavel in a single sharp rap, and glared at the Senate and at the news-apes seated in the Senate balcony. Behind him, the Elders, including old Thadeus, most aged in the council, were quiet.
"The Senate will provide money to replace your lost equipment, general."
Urko looked relieved, but there were a few murmurs of discontent in the lighter voices of the chimpanzee Senators.
"However," Zaius announced in a heavy voice, "the main appropriations from this Senate will be voted to scientific research!"
Urko began to protest, but Dr. Zaius brought down the gavel with finality. "That will be all for now!"
"But....!"
Urko stepped toward the platform, from which the orangutans were stepping down. He swerved around to look toward the Senators, most of whom were on their feet and about to follow the Elders out. He noted with irritation that practically everyone, gorilla Senators as well, avoided his eyes.
Urko shuffled toward his battered junior officers.
Captain Sovak stepped forward. "I'm sorry, sir. They should not have been so hard on you. You had no way of knowing that we were firing at a volcano!"
Urko faced him with a grim expression. His confusion was being burned away by a growing anger. "Captain Sovak, find me a jeep! We're going to Strategic Defense Headquarters!"
"To the hidden stronghold?" Sovak asked, unbelieving.
"Yes---and make it snappy!"
"Yes, sir!" Sovak liked the fiery tone that his commander was now using.
"And radio ahead! I want to see the new secret weapon as soon as possible!"
"Right, sir!"
Sovak saluted and then wheeled and left the Senate Chamber at once. Urko held back, watching the Senators and the Elders file out, watching his junior officers leave.
His brows lowered and his lips writhed. "Just all of you wait! I am not finished! Not by a long shot!"
The gorilla general wheeled and strode out, proud and made even more dangerous by the defeat he'd suffered.
In the gallery, Zira and Cornelius sat smiling and looking fondly at one another.
"The main appropriations will be voted to scientific research..." Cornelius repeated. He touched Zira's hand and they both sighed gratefully.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4NfBb1Il0J
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Fitzhugh threw up his hands dramatically. "Oh, of course it's in or around the camp where they were poking and prodding the laser—where else would those brainy baboons leave my priceless invention, the beauty of modern sabotage?"
He and Steve, Valerie, Dan, Betty, Mark and Barry were standing on a rise close to where Red Leader One camp had been. Barry, his white Underfolk robe pinned up to facilitate movement, was struggling up the sand dune behind them.
"Or taken away by them," Valerie suggested, "or lost on the way, or—"
Fitzhugh huffed and waved a hand toward the rise. “Yes, yes, fine—file it under ‘missing laser mysteries.’ But unless the apes suddenly developed a knack for organized storage, I’d say the smart money’s still on the obvious: right over there on that dainty little hillock where our dear general set up his command circus.”
The castaways trudged across the chewed-up sand, their shoes crunching over churned debris and blackened grit left behind by the retreating gorilla force. As they neared the rocky center of what had once been Red Leader One’s command post, they instinctively spread out, forming a loose arc. Keeping abreast of one another, they moved slowly, methodically, eyes fixed on the ground. No one spoke. Each step took them around the slight rise in the terrain where the apes' wall-less tent had once stood—circling, scanning, hoping that the missing battery cell might be tucked beneath some scattered ash, a fallen length of canvas, or the charred skeleton of a supply crate.
Fitzhugh squinted at the scorched earth and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh yes, much easier to find a battery in this charming little war zone—why, it’s practically leaping out at us! Nothing like a few craters and half-melted junk to simplify a search party.”
Barry, with wide-eyed earnestness and a trace of worry in his voice, said, "Or maybe... one of the apes saw it and picked it up?"
"I dunno," Dan said. "They obviously cleared out pretty fast. Look at all that stuff lying about."
Empty ration packages, metal cans, a canteen, a half-used meat tip, tent pegs, a boot, and other objects littered the area.
The castaways fanned out, circling the base of the sandy hillock with quiet urgency. Step by cautious step, they climbed toward the summit, eyes scanning for any trace of the missing power cell. As they reached the top, they paused to note the spots where the apes’ equipment had once stood—the flattened patch of earth where the radio had been set down, the rectangular depressions marking where bunks and map tables had rested. Then, without a word, they swept across the summit from one end to the other, their feet scuffing the grit, hands brushing aside debris—but there was nothing. The camp had been stripped clean.
Fitzhugh kicked at a charred bit of canvas and let out a theatrical sigh. “Well, isn’t that just charming? They found it, pocketed it, and trotted off—probably using it to toast marshmallows back at headquarters.”
"No, let’s take another look," said Steve. "This time, let’s comb through the sand a bit more carefully."
Mark and Valerie grabbed some tent pegs, Fitzhugh found a broken tent pole, and as the others made another pass over the site, Betty spotted a faint, half-buried scrap of metal gleaming in the sand—something small, but definitely not part of any ape gear.
Betty called out, “Hey! Got something!” She knelt down, rubbing the sand off the small metal object with her sleeve, then held up the battery like a trophy, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.
Fitzhugh quickly examined the battery and grinningly stuck it back into the screwdriver. Looking around, he pointed at some nearby rocks. “Well, folks, let’s park our keisters over there and give this little battery a chance to catch its breath.”
The castaways trudged wearily through the churned desert, their boots kicking up clouds of hot dust with every step. Sweat ran down their faces, and their muscles ached from the relentless heat and rough terrain. At last, Steve, Betty, Valerie, Mark, Dan, and Barry reached a small dune and collapsed gratefully into the soft, warm sand, panting and wiping sweat from their brows.
Fitzhugh wasted no time. Sitting cross-legged, he carefully opened the screwdriver’s handle, removing the empty power cell compartment. He slid the recovered battery into place, then snapped in the hidden solar battery. Holding the screwdriver steady, he angled the tiny lens toward the brilliant desert sun, letting the light pour in. With a smirk, Fitzhugh pressed the small stud near the base of the handle—the one marked for charging. A faint hum filled the air as the hidden laser began to recharge, ready for action once more.
Fitzhugh grinned wickedly and said, “Well, it’s gonna take its sweet time juicin’ up, but once it’s fully loaded, this little baby’ll have us covered — like a shield with a nasty bite.”
“We’d better keep a lookout,” Mark said. “You all get some rest. I’ll climb that rock pile and keep watch.”
Fitzhugh smirked and said, “Oh sure, the minute this baby’s juiced up, we’ll high-tail it outta here like a bunch of scared rabbits.”
"Captain Burton," Barry said, "why does Mendez call this the Forbidden Zone?"
Steve frowned, worry flickering in his eyes. “I don’t really know—except that the desert inside this thing is brutal. Nobody in their right mind would come out here on a bet. And we’ve got to cross those mountains southeast of here in the next day or so! That means slogging across a ton of sand dunes just to get there.”
Betty said, “Thank the Lord we brought enough water and supplies with us! And this time, there’s no chance of being swallowed up by anything!”
Barry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I got pretty tired of playing the god role back there, you know—always expected to have all the answers, all the time.”24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaTnmbb3Mkj
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Nearly three days later, Steve, Fitzhugh, Betty, Valerie, Mark, Dan, and Barry stood on the eastern slope of a mountain just outside the boundaries of the Forbidden Zone.
"Whew!" Betty exclaimed with a sigh. "At least we'll be in the foothills soon and can turn south. Our water’s about gone, and I could sure use some wild game—if you’re still willing to cook. Huh, Valerie?"
"Well, I'm a liberated woman, but after eating what you prepared last night, I'd do my chores willingly," Valerie chuckled.
Descending the mountain, they soon found themselves among somewhat lower hills, green and tree-covered for a change.
Fitzhugh smirked and said, “We should still keep our eyes peeled—Urko’s probably madder than a hornet now and has his goons patrolling every inch of the eastern edge of…” —but he was cut off before finishing.
"What the—?" Dan gestured back to the others, interrupting Fitzhugh’s last words. "Look!" he said as they hurried up to him.
Barry squinted and asked with innocent curiosity, “So, uh… what kind of people are those? I’ve never seen anything like ’em before.”
Far below them, in a clearing, were two motionless figures.
Steve explained patiently, “Humanoids are the native folk around here, kind of like us but adapted to this harsh place.” He started waving his arms cautiously. “I’ll see if I can get their attention—they might know where there’s water and—” But before he could finish, Fitzhugh interrupted him.
Fitzhugh yanked Steve down with a sharp tug. “No, no, Steve! Look alive—gorillas!” He jabbed a finger toward the tree-lined ridge where several of Urko’s army trucks and jeeps were parked, their drivers and grunts lounging in the shade.
Barry squinted down at the scene below, eyes fixed on the tallest of the three gorilla officers hunched over an unfolded map. “Who’s the big one?” he asked, tugging at Mark’s sleeve. “He looks mean.”
Mark leaned in, giving the figure a grim glance. “That’s Urko,” he muttered. “And ‘mean’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
Valerie nodded. “They have some radio or electronic gear, too. Look at that bunch—right there! See? Between the two round rocks?”
"Get down!" Mark hissed, and his fellow castaways dropped even lower. "See that one gorilla? He's looking up with a pair of binoculars."
Steve studied the officer a moment. "I don't think he's focusing up here. He's looking at the sky!"
Fitzhugh squinted down at the gorillas, then muttered with his trademark sarcasm, "Oh, splendid. They're obviously cooking up something brilliant—and by 'brilliant' I mean absolutely horrifying. I don't like it one bit. Those poor humanoids out there are in for a world of trouble. I can feel it in my impeccably tuned gut."
Barry, wide-eyed, looked up at him and asked, "But... if they're in trouble, why don't they just run away?"
Mark squinted hard at the two figures. "They're not moving at all."
Steve stared hard at the two tiny figures. "Either they're not humanoids at all, or they're dead."
Valerie bit her lip, eyes fixed on the clearing below.
Fitzhugh, arms crossed and tone dripping with sarcasm, muttered, "Oh, don’t rule out the possibility that they’re not real at all—maybe just a few dummies set up for some good old-fashioned gorilla target practice. Wouldn’t that be charming?"
Steve raised his hand sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Shhh—quiet, all of you," he said in a low, firm voice. "Just listen..."
They fell silent, ears straining as a distant, rhythmic hum grew louder. Valerie tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “That sound…” she whispered. “It sounds awfully familiar.” She paused, listening harder—then her eyes widened in disbelief. “No,” she said breathlessly. “It couldn’t be—not here!”
A growing roar filled the air, and the seven castaways instinctively shrank back behind a sturdy tree, their hearts pounding. They stared upward, eyes wide with surprise, as the sound of a jet-driven airplane grew louder and louder. Suddenly, a sleek, silver aircraft flashed by almost overhead, its engines roaring like thunder. It dipped sharply toward the clearing below, then banked hard, circling in a wide, menacing arc. Through a brief glimpse in the cockpit, they spotted the pilot — a gorilla, wearing a leather helmet and goggles, his face set in a fierce grimace. But it was the plane itself that stole their breath away: the unmistakable shape of a Messerschmitt Me 262, the legendary Nazi jet fighter, gleaming cruelly under the harsh sunlight — a secret weapon unlike anything they had ever seen.
The Messerschmitt Me 262 was the world’s first operational jet-powered fighter, making its historic debut late in World War II, in 1944. Its blazing speed and advanced design stunned Allied pilots, who struggled to match its velocity and firepower. Originally intended to turn the tide of the air war for Nazi Germany, the Me 262 came too late and in too few numbers to change the course of history. But what made the castaways’ jaws drop wasn’t just the plane’s sleek form — it was the grotesque, chilling markings painted boldly across its fuselage and wings: jagged swastikas and blood-red Nazi insignia that seemed to scream of the dark, fanatical ideology fueling Urko’s army. The sight of those hateful symbols, gleaming beneath the jet’s cold metal surface, made it clear this was no ordinary war machine — it was a terrifying echo of humanity’s worst horrors, now wielded by the savage gorilla forces.
Fitzhugh’s eyes widened in horrified disbelief as the jet screamed overhead. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, voice trembling with a mix of sarcasm and genuine terror. “I swear, Hitler’s come back from the dead—and somehow Urko’s gotten hold of his damn warplane plans.” He jabbed a shaking finger at the grotesque Nazi insignia plastered across the sleek fuselage. “No way Urko’s flying that beast himself, but you can bet your last dollar it’s his idea. Bringing the horrors of history crashing back to life, wrapped in gorilla fur and leather.” His usual wisecracks faltered, swallowed by the cold fear twisting in his gut.
Betty shrugged with a half-smile. "I flew an ME-262 once at an air show years ago. Even then, it was considered almost a relic—fast for its time, but ancient compared to today's jets."
Mark lowered his voice, glancing around nervously. “Steve, it’s awful—those apes somehow got their hands on one of the deadliest Nazi relics. If they figure out how to use it, we’re all in deep trouble.”
Steve shook his head and gave Mark a wry smile. “Yeah, but you should be even more worried about what they’ll do once they do figure out how to fly that thing. Remember what Cornelius said—no ape has ever managed to fly a hot-air balloon, let alone a jet plane like that. Doesn’t mean they won’t try, though.”24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJT66klNyi2
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The pilot's voice came over the radio. "....This is Wing Commander Brutus. Come in General Urko....Over."
Urko picked up the radio microphone, trying to keep his face from breaking into a smile of triumph. "Wing Commander Brutus. All is in readiness. Make your run now!"
"It shall be done, general!"
The ME 262 banked sharply, then leveled out to circle over the clearing with mechanical precision. Inside the cockpit, Commander Brutus fixed his cold gaze on the two frozen figures below. With a calculated twist, he tipped the plane into a long, flat dive. A fierce thrill surged through him—the raw power of the roaring jet engines roaring past the canopy was intoxicating. Brutus reveled in the sheer speed and force of this flying marvel. It was more than a machine; it was his instrument of conquest. In his mind, he already ruled the skies as the commander destined to lead the first group, then an entire air fleet—sweeping across the land, claiming territory for the unstoppable glory of his race!24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7FpHBvOlu2
Brutus leveled out of his dive, the wind howling past the canopy as the two motionless figures on the clearing locked into his crude glass sight. A deep thrill surged through him. His thick, calloused paw dropped to the oversized brass lever bolted beside his seat—the trigger for a grotesque, retrofitted weapon slung beneath the ME 262’s sleek frame: a massive harpoon cannon, salvaged from an ancient whaling vessel and brutally welded into place by gorilla engineers. The sharpened spearhead glinted in its launching cradle, its steel barbs cruel and unmistakable.
This wasn’t a bomb or a burst of bullets—it was something older, more visceral. Brutus let out a low growl of triumph as he wrapped his fingers around the launch lever. One pull, and the sky would spit death like the sea hunters of old. For the glory of the Ape Nation!
Brutus hunched over the targeting scope, the twin figures on the ground finally drifting into the glowing center of the sighting ring. His thick fingers tightened on the launch lever as the ME-262's dive smoothed into a low, predatory glide. The howl of the jet engine surged around him, vibrating through his bones, but he was focused only on the silhouettes below. When they were locked in perfectly—dead center, no movement—he bared his teeth in a grimace of victory and slammed the lever forward. With a deep, mechanical thunk, the underbelly launcher fired, and the harpoons—sleek, brutal projectiles designed more for intimidation than precision—tore loose from the aircraft, streaking toward its unsuspecting target.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKiE6y246Hb
As the harpoons streaked down through the hot afternoon air, they struck the two motionless figures with a sharp, echoing crack. But instead of collapsing in ruin or pain, the targets jerked stiffly—unnaturally—and then simply toppled over. Straw spilled out from ragged holes. One lost an arm entirely, revealing the rough wooden frame beneath. The other pitched forward, its crude ape-uniform sloughing off like a discarded costume.
From behind the ridge, the castaways watched in tense silence as the jet roared overhead. Mark let out a breath. “Dummies,” he muttered.
Urko's men were all on their feet cheering.
As the wrecked dummies smoldered in the distance, Urko stepped forward, his black leather gauntlet clenched into a fist before rising stiffly into the air—his right arm held high in a chilling imitation of the ancient fascist salute. His dark eyes blazed with fanatic triumph as he bellowed, "Glory to the Ape Nation! Let the age of the skies begin!" The gorilla officers around him echoed the cry with raised fists and guttural roars, their voices mixing with the whine of the ME-262’s jet engines overhead. The future, in Urko’s eyes, belonged to the apes—and now, to the air.24Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe3taYGbcVT
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Barry stared wide-eyed at the harpoon-riddled dummies sprawled across the clearing, their limp forms grotesquely pinned to the ground. He took a step back, his voice rising with a mix of shock and youthful disbelief: “They weren’t even real people... and he still did that? What kind of monster does that?!”
Steve watched the jet shrink into the distance, its scream fading into the wind. His jaw tightened, eyes still fixed on the horizon. "If they get that thing fully operational..." he said grimly, "there won’t be anywhere left to hide. Urko could hunt down every last humanoid in this land—and wipe them out without warning. That plane changes everything."
Fitzhugh crossed his arms and gave Steve a sidelong glance, his tone thick with arrogant condescension. “Steve, I’m thinking bigger than you, as usual. The apes probably don’t even know half of what that kind of airplane can do. But give them time—just a little time—and they’ll be ruling this whole crazy world from the skies!”
Barry’s eyes went wide, and he jabbed a finger at the plane. “We’ve gotta find a way to blow that thing up!"
Mark shook his head firmly. “No, Barry, blowing it up isn’t the answer—not right now. That plane might have parts Steve could use to get the Marintha running again—if we even find the suborbital. We need to be smarter than just wrecking something valuable. There has to be a better way.”
Betty suddenly perked up, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Leave it all to me,” she declared. “I’ll steal that plane right from under their noses.” The words hung in the air, and the group fell into stunned silence, their eyes locked on her, unsure whether to be amazed or terrified.
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