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Steve slithered up to the ridge and looked down at the barbed-wire fence. He gestured to Mark, Dan, Valerie, Betty, Fitzhugh, and Barry. They all scrambled up the hill and flattened themselves at the top.
It'd been a long, hard two-day hike. Their food and water were gone, their clothes were dusty and sweaty, and they were very hot. But a new sense of exhilaration wiped out most of the fatigue. They had reached their goal.
"That's it, all right," Dan said. The seven castaways could see the barracks (which seemed to be mostly empty), a hangar and warehouses, and a factory beyond. The railroad crane was moving a heavy crate down its track. A sharp, barbed-wire fence stretched all around the compound, guarded by watchtowers with sentries.
The seven could see some kind of activity on the edges of the airfield. "They must be getting ready for the demonstration tomorrow," Valerie suggested.
Barry furrowed his brow and whispered, “But… how are we supposed to get in there?”
Fitzhugh gave a smug grin, producing his trick screwdriver with a flourish. “Well, young man, we could always shoot our way in… except—” He paused dramatically, glancing down at the fence and the watchtowers, then let the unfinished sentence hang in the air, heavy with implication.
Barry furrowed his brow and whispered, “But… how are we supposed to get in there?”
Fitzhugh gave a smug grin, producing his trick screwdriver with a flourish. “Well, young man, we could always shoot our way in… except—” He paused dramatically, glancing down at the fence and the watchtowers, then let the unfinished sentence hang in the air, heavy with implication.
"There are too many of them," Valerie said. "We'll have to sneak in."
"But how...?" Betty wondered aloud.
"I'm not sure yet." Steve was looking around the area. "If there was only something..." His voice trailed off and he pointed along the ridge they were hiding on. "Dan, you see that?"
A hundred yards along the ridge was a smoking trash dump. It was outside the barbed-wire. They could clearly make out a pile of empty gasoline drums in the dump.
"That pile is pretty close to the fence," Steve said.
"And above it," Dan added. "I getcha. We send them rolling down, causing a lot of noise, but make it seem like it happened naturally. They just broke loose, that's all."
"Right," Steve agreed. "What about this: One of us goes over and makes that pile of drums roll down the hill. The other two run like hell for the fence here. By the time the first one gets back here and down to the fence, the others have breached the fence and can help him."
"Or her," Betty corrected.
"Or her," Steve laughed. "You're volunteering for noisemaker?"
"Okay, let's study the best place to try and get through," Mark suggested.
They examined the fence for several minutes, then Valerie pointed at a spot not far away. "How about there? I know it's almost under that watchtower, but they'll be looking in the other direction---and not there, I hope. And the other towers will be concentrating on their areas and expect that tower to watch its own."
"Not bad," Steve complimented Valerie. "What trees and brush there are here will give us some help on the approach to the fence."
Dan surveyed the sparse brush and a couple of dry-looking trees in the area where they were lying. "Let's find a couple of forked sticks. We can use them to pry open and hold the barbed wire."
Searching the area, they finally found the right kind of forked sticks. Then Betty sneaked along the ridge, hiding from the watchtowers, and slipped into the trash heap.
"I wish we could wait until dark for this," Mark said, "but I guess we don't have time."
"Can you see her?" Betty asked.
"No—and I wouldn't want to, either," Fitzhugh muttered. "If I can spot it, then so can those blasted gorillas."
"Keep your eyes on the watchtower and the patrolling sentries," Valerie whispered. "Not the drums. When the guards look her way, then we make our move. Get set, heroes—it's about time that..."
The oil drums gave way with a rumble louder and more obvious than either man had expected. Dan, Steve, Mark, Betty, Valerie, Fitzhugh, and Barry saw the sentries move to the side of the watchtower to observe the drums careening down the hill—and then the seven castaways made their move.
Crouched low, they ran down the slope to their first cover, took a quick look at the watchtower, then raced toward the fence. They deftly propped up the wire with the forked sticks and scrambled through. Steve bolted for the shelter of a barracks, slithering under its raised floor, then looked back at Dan, Mark, Valerie, Fitzhugh, and Barry, all hunched near the fence, waiting to help Betty through.
They heard the crash of the barrels before they saw their companion coming pell-mell through the brush. There was an unexpected blast and a roar of flames from the crash site; the barbed-wire fence had quivered first with the impact of the barrels, and now with the force of the blast.
Betty wiggled through the fence, then hurried with the others to slide under the barracks floor at almost full speed and freeze.
A jeepful of gorillas sped past the seven only a few feet away. The barbed wire was still quivering from Betty's passage, but the guards didn't notice.
After the jeep rumbled past, Fitzhugh leaned toward Betty and hissed, “That explosion—dare I ask what little surprise you cooked up?”
She grinned, "I noticed there was also a small line of full oil drums almost right in line. Then, crawling through that trash, I found a couple of not-quite-empty bottles of booze. I combined all the alcohol into one bottle, soaked a piece of cloth in it, and made myself a little Molotov cocktail---which I jammed into the spout of one of those full drums. Next, I lit it with an ember from the trash fire and started the barrels rolling. The rest, as they say, is history."
Barry grunted and gave her a big slap on the back. "Whoa! You're like some kinda Joan of Spark or whatever!" His companions almost laughed out loud but kept it quiet. "Now we gotta find a place where we can see what’s really happening around here."
The gorillas were shouting "Fire!" and "Emergency!" in the background as Dan, Valerie, Barry, Betty, Steve, Fitzhugh, and Mark crawled out from under the barracks and slipped away.
"That warehouse!" Valerie whispered. They all ran quickly, just missed being spotted by a jeep patrol, and flattened themselves against the far wall of the warehouse. Fitzhugh clutched his trick laser as Mark, Steve, and Barry attempted to open the warehouse door.
"Look out! Patrol!" Betty gasped fearfully, and they skipped quickly around the corner.
Mark looked around and gestured toward a nearby barracks. “That looks empty, and it’s even closer. C’mon!”
The barracks door was unlocked, and they crowded through it. Fitzhugh swung the concealed laser around, but no one was inside.
“Why is it empty?” Betty asked.
“Maybe he's expecting a bigger army,” Barry suggested as he crossed toward the stairs to the second floor.
The castaways slipped quietly upstairs and kneeled below an open window.
Betty sighed. "Well, we got in. Now the question is: Can we get out?"
“We’ll cross that smoldering bridge when we’re done counting imaginary eggs,” Fitzhugh muttered, setting the trick screwdriver within easy reach.
Steve was already inspecting the view below them. The hangar was not far off. It had sliding doors on the end facing them. The railroad tracks went past and into the large factory just beyond. A switch engine was tugging several freight cars and a flatcar with the big crane on it. A loading dock was built next to the track, just in front of a small building that they hadn't been able to see before. "That building there, with the sliding doors. It has to be a hangar. Or it could be, anyway. They'd need one," he said.
“You’re probably right, Mr. Burton,” Fitzhugh said, sticking his head out the window. “But just to be absolutely sure, we apparently need to risk our necks and peek inside. Lovely.”
Dan pointed at the train. “We could slip between those buildings, then use that train for cover. Doesn’t seem like anyone’s on it except the engineer, the fireman, and the crane operator.”
“And from the train we go to those windows on the side of the hangar,” Valerie added.
"And then it's Operation Grand Theft Airplane," Betty said with a weak smile.
The castaways left the barracks. In order to slip around more inconspicuously, Fitzhugh left the trick screwdriver behind, concealing it in an upstairs closet that apparently had not been used for some time. The seven then ran quickly between the buildings and up to the slowly moving train. The crane had dropped the loading it was carrying and seemed not to be in use at the moment. A forklift passed, a dusty gorilla driving, and the seven humans hid. Then they climbed between the cars of the train and crouched behind some cases, looking for a way to run across to the hangar windows.
As they watched, the hangar doors began to rumble open. The first thing they saw was the ME-262, sitting on its tailskid with the pointed nose aimed high into the sky.
"There it is!" Betty whispered.
“Whoa—look way out there!” Barry whispered, his voice full of awe.
Behind the plane, a grim pattern emerged—partially completed frameworks lined the hangar floor, skeletal fuselages resting beside stacks of rudder assemblies and engine cowlings. Scattered tools and oily tarps couldn't hide the chilling precision of the operation. This wasn’t just a repair depot—it was an assembly line, humming with the cold efficiency of purpose. Most disturbing of all were the jet turbine housings, unmistakably modeled after the Nazi fighter’s design, their sleek, unfinished forms proof of an effort to resurrect technology that should have died with the war. The silence made it worse—this was ambition in hiding, waiting to roar.
“Well, isn’t this charming—a full-blown airplane factory,” Fitzhugh said dryly. “All we’re missing now is a souvenir stand and guided tours.”
As they watched in shocked fascination, the doors at the other end of the hangar opened to admit a forklift with more parts on a wooden pallet.
Mark looked extremely glum. “Stealing the ME-262 won’t work. They’ll just build more.”
“There’s gotta be something we can do!” Barry said, his fists clenched and face red with frustration.
Steve started to say, “We could—”
Dan cut him off. “Hey! What’s that?”
Valerie pointed to a tractor pulling a large cage behind the hangar, skimming along the edge of the landing field before finally disappearing inside. The cage was filled with silent, morose, humanlike forms—slumped, motionless, and unmistakably prisoners.
"Humanoids!" Valerie exclaimed.
"Hey, remember what we saw a few days ago in the clearing---the dummies?" Steve asked.
Betty replied, "They're not going to use dummies tomorrow."
Crouched in hiding, between the train and some packing, cases, the three friends were silent. Then, all at once, Barry heard a new sound and peeked over the cases. "Hey, get a load of this!" He almost whistled.
A shiny new command jeep was roaring between the buildings and up to the hangar. They could see 3 figures in the vehicle beside the driver.
“That’s Urko?!” Fitzhugh hissed. “I was expecting a general, not a parade float in leather. Honestly, does he raid saddleries for inspiration? And naturally, this would be the moment I realize I left the laser back in the barracks. Perfect.”
“Think we can get a little closer? Maybe hear what they’re saying?” Barry asked, wide-eyed but trying to keep his voice down.
Valerie surveyed the area ahead. “We’ll go right, around that second stack, then straight ahead to between those big stacks of boxes.” Steve nodded and took off, with Mark following and Dan, Barry, Betty, Fitzhugh, and Valerie just behind him. Squatting down, they peered out cautiously; they were within eavesdropping distance. A chimpanzee in a white lab coat stepped out of the general’s jeep, followed by a gorilla in flying clothes.
"Thank you for the ride, General Urko," the chimpanzee said graciously and with great deference.
"You're welcome, Dr. Zeno. Well, Brutus, are you ready for tomorrow?"
"Yes, general," the gorilla flyer answered. "I can't wait for them to see me fly the sky vehicle."
Urko laughed indulgently. His manner was expansive and regal. "Yes, Wing Commander Brutus, tomorrow we'll show them all what sky power can do!" The castaways exchanged worried looks when they heard the gorilla supremo speak to the lab-coated chimpanzee. "Thanks to you, Dr. Zeno."
"I knew when I found the ancient relic," Zeno said smoothly, "that it'd be useful to you, general."
The burly general waved a black-gloved hand. "And as soon as you know exactly how to build them, we'll fill the skies with these---these air vehicles!" He laughed harshly and with relish. "Then all the world will be under my control!"
Dan, Steve, Mark, Betty, Valerie, Fitzhugh, and Barry sagged back against the piles of boxes as the general drove off and the other two apes strolled toward the hangar.
“Did you hear that?” Fitzhugh said, incredulous. “They’re cobbling together a war machine and haven’t the faintest clue what they’re doing. Brilliant. Just brilliant. The blind leading the armed.”
“Yes, they’re building the parts all right,” Mark replied. “But they don’t know how to put them all together.” Then he suddenly grinned. “They’re just aping—so to speak—the original find!”
Fitzhugh groaned, then straightened, his expression darkening. “We could stop this circus cold if we just destroyed the plane. I’ll go get the laser and personally put an end to this little primate airshow and—”
"We can't," Betty said. "Look!" The seven peered around the boxes and saw that another cage of humanoids had been brought inside the hangar. "More targets for tomorrow!"
“We’ve got to think of something,” Betty said. “And we don’t have much time!”14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡP5i3KLvK7S
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In their house near the Humanoid Behavioral Studies Laboratory, Cornelius was reading a newspaper. Zira was seated nearby, watching a television show. By her expression, however, Cornelius could tell she wasn't paying much attention to "The Unlikely Trio," a series about a smart chimpanzee detective, his gorilla partner, and Link, a juvenile orangutan, who roamed about Ape City solving crimes and making smart remarks to each other.
"Don't you like the show tonight, dear?" he asked.
"Oh, Cornelius," Zira sighed., "I'm very concerned about Blue-Eyes and his friends---and Barry, the young humanoid cub."
Cornelius lowered his paper, breaking off his reading about the most recent ball game between the Ape City Maulers and the Banachek Bashers (of a town not far north of the capital) and gazed at his wife. "They must be safe, for if they were caught we would have heard." He pointed at the TV screen. "It'd be broadcast over TV."
"But do you think they'll be able to stop Urko?"
Cornelius sighed deeply. "An ape with Urko's ambitions might not stop there, Zira."
The two chimpanzees, each lost in private thoughts, watched the round TV screen inattentively for several minutes.
As the show ended, a commercial came on for a fur brightener, then another for a simian deodorant.
Cornelius sniffed at the second one. "I don't see anything wrong with smelling like a chimpanzee," he said. "It's a perfectly fine smell."
"Shush, dear," Zira admonished him. "It's time for the news!"
The newscaster, a sharp-tongued but handsome young chimpanzee named Julius, kidded around with a pretty young female chimp beneath a big sign that read APEWITNESS NEWS. Then his manner became serious as he announced that a military demonstration was imminent at Strategic Defense Headquarters. A brief film clip followed, of General Urko, looking as arrogant as ever. "....I can only say that this will be a momentous occasion in the history of apekind," Urko said. Then he smiled modestly but could not hide the glitter in his eyes.
"Power glutton!" Zira said to the screen.
Zira sighed as another commercial came on, this time for Baby-Chimp's Breath Mints.
"Oh, Cornelius, Urko is likely to turn any advantage he has into power over the rest of us. You're right about that. He's supremely ambitious!"
"And unscrupulous and dangerous," Cornelius added. "He's capable of anything to get his ends. He'd destroy every humanoid down to the last child in order to gain power---and any ape, too, who got in his way!"
Zira nodded. "I'm worried about Blue-Eyes, Cornelius. He's just one against many, even with his friends, they are only seven against...."
"But they are rather special humanoids."
"Special, yes. But are they special enough?"
Julius, grinning and self-satisfied, now came back on with an interview with the coach of the Ape City Maulers. "Whaddya feel your chances are, Coach Gruntz? The Banachek Bashers are a pretty tough team this year...."
"Dammit, Cornelius! Turn that thing off, will you? You're closer to the set. Those people say the same thing over and over every year."
"They do, they do," Cornelius said, rising. "You're just not in the mood. I understand. Maybe a little soothing music....?"
"That would be nice." Zira closed her eyes and sank back in her chair.14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡufFQnvwJxd
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The searchlight from the nearest guard tower swept across the face of the barracks, where the seven castaways were hiding again. Mark went to kneel by the window once more as soon as the glare moved on and followed the light's progress as it roved over the hangar and aircraft factory. He could see rows of military equipment---readied for the next day's demonstration---as well as parked files of tanks, troop carriers, and jeeps. As another searchlight beamed across from the other side of the stronghold, he pulled his head down out of sight.
Steve sat crosslegged on the bare floor, against the wall, while Barry stretched out with his hands behind his head.
Valerie looked over thoughtfully at Betty, then asked her, "Are you sure you can fly that ME-262...?"
She nodded. "I flew one once, in an air show. I had someone check me out it in first, though. Aircraft of that period were pretty simple, of course----a simple turbine, pre-spaceflight. Yeah, I think I can handle it."
Dan turned his head to look at Fitzhugh. "I guess the rest is up to us."
Fitzhugh snorted, a bitter twist to his lips. "Yes, us... and a whole lot of 'luck,' I'm sure."
"One thing....." Mark advised, "we'd better leave the laser behind. If that should fall into Urko's hands...."
Fitzhugh snorted, a derisive sound. "And if he could duplicate that laser? Now that's a threat far worse than this plane! Just... leave it here again, and we'll grab it as we leave."
Steve grinned. "You make it sound like leaving your hat at the hatcheck booth and just sauntering out."
Fitzhugh let out a short, contemptuous laugh. "Please. That was just my heroic self talking," he deadpanned.
"I don't feel like a hero," Betty said.
"Heroine," Valerie corrected.
"That, either," Betty replied.
"Okay, Captain Hudson," Barry piped up, his eyes wide with curiosity. "What's the brilliant plan?"
Steve winced. "You and the others can decide, this time tomorrow, if it's brilliant or not, Barry. But here's what I was thinking we could do...."14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAbyMNYkqkv
