They entered the darkened remains of an office, ruined by some horrible fire. There, in the middle, where a desk used to be, was a hologram projector. The evil men checked their watches. A quarter till Midnight. Any moment now…
On cue, the hologram hummed to life; an apparition rising from it. They had never met this man, their master, in person. But his money was real, and that’s all that mattered to men such as these. They could not make out much of the fog-like figure except for a pair of eyes that bore into them like sharp knives.
“This world will burn, this I swear!” hissed their master. “Mankind has always survived through adversary, not complacency! While the pathetic men in power live off their status, I shall take what I want, and that is the world! Under my control, we shall not live with our neighbors; we shall conquer them!” The mysterious master paused, considering his two henchmen for the first time.
“Dekker! Ox!” he rasped. “For my plans to succeed, I need the device being designed by Professor Jones and his team. You will acquire the plans for me and eliminate the dear professor. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
Far away from the burnt out lab and the plotting villains was the Institute of the Brilliant 5, a shining example of modern architecture amid the busy skyline of Monument City. The building was one of many, spread out throughout the galaxy, used as impromptu facilities for the Brilliant 5, a team of 5 specialists known the world over. “Old Timer,” the living historian, had lived for over half a century and remembers ever minute of it, expect for his real name. Johnny Highpitch, amphibious alien and sonics expert, had remarkable hearing that can not only detect a pin dropping but could tell what type of pin it was and what height it was dropped from. Maximilian Sebastian Orwell Maddock AKA “Junior” may be young, but he was the top of his field in linguistics. Teresa Becker was the team’s technician and inventor. Marissa Tulvak, a alien with an insect-like exoskeleton, was the world’s leading authority in biology and the application of technology to living tissue.
Their unofficial leader was a man called Richard Darington, known to most as Rick Daring. Daring got his nickname while recklessly boarding a wrecked spaceship that crashed on the Earth and helping the injured aliens repair their ship. As a reward, the aliens took him with them to the outreaches of the Milky Way. There, he met the five intrepid geniuses and helped them form the Brilliant 5.
Daring was a tall man with broad shoulders. His face was long with a sloping brow and square jaw. His blonde hair was trimmed short. Even after leaving the military, he kept his body in peak physical shape. Daring never preferred to use guns, especially when his double-breasted suit had a number of hidden gadgets made by Teresa to his specifications.
On this particular morning, Daring had just received a message from an old colleague, Professor William Jones. He was sharing the contents of the message with the rest of his team.
“As you know, Professor Jones is working with a team of scientist on a top secret project for the government. A month ago, one of the five scientist, a Doctor Bryant, was killed in a lab accident that burned down the entire building.”
“There were some rumors that it wasn’t an accident,” stated Junior, combing back some of his unruly hair. “Not that there’s any solid evidence to back that supposition.”
“Don’t go on showing off yer fancy ten cent words,” remarked Old Timer, scratching at his grey beard. “Try using words ya know the meaning to.”
“Sure,” remarked Junior. “I’ll talk nice and slow so that you’ll understand me next time.” Old Timer scowled at this and was about to make a rebuttal, when he was interrupted.
“What exactly are they working on?” asked Teresa, attired in a modest three-piece suit. Its bright colors set off her naturally dark skin. “A death ray, perhaps?”
“How horrible!” exclaimed Marissa, holding her hand to her mouth. “Couldn’t they be working on a new electron smasher or a DNA replicator?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have the clearance to know,” replied Daring. “But the good professor and his colleagues feel that their lives are in danger. That Doctor Bryant was just the beginning.”
“Why now?” asked Johnny Highpitch, sitting comfortably in his Victorian outfit.
“Apparently, over the last week, they swear that they’ve seen people following them, watching their every move.”
“Simple paranoia,” replied Junior. “They’ve been in their labs too long.”
“Rocket Scientists? Pisshaw!” muttered Old Timer. “Why, they ain’t no more than a bunch of babies, needing their hands held in the dark.”
“Nevertheless,” stated Daring. “He asked for our help, and given the sensitivity of their work, it wouldn’t hurt to check things out.” He looked at Junior and Old Timer. “Since the two of you are so keen on the idea, you two will accompany me on nice afternoon drive to his laboratory.”
Neither man said anything. They just crossed their arms and sulked a bit. The other three were relieved that they could go back to their work.
“If you need anything before you go, just call,” said Teresa before she left.
The trip in Daring’s open top roadster was pretty uneventfully. Daring focused on the driving, while Junior and Old Timer playfully bickered about random, trivial matter. In fact, getting through the five layers of security clearances, strip searches, and interrogations took longer than the trip itself.
Once inside the actual facility, Daring and his men strolled the hallway leading to Professor Jones’s lab.
“You’d think at least one of them varmints would have the decency of at least greeting us,” muttered Old Timer. “We’re only here for their safety, after all.”
“Your ugly mug probably scared them all off,” remarked Junior.
“Is that so, huh? Is it?” shouted a flabbergasted Old Timer.
“Cool your heels, gents,” intervened Daring. “We’re here.” He knocked on the door once. No reply. “Professor Jones, it’s Rick Daring. I’m here in response to your letter.” Still nothing.
Daring tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. Opening the door revealed a mess of overturned bookshelves and notebooks littering the ground. On the far wall, against the windowpanes, was a large steel safe, opened, and lying next to it was the very still body of Professor Jones. Blood was pooling underneath it.
The door slammed shut behind Daring, cutting him off from his comrades. A tall man with a weasel smile had been hiding behind the door and was currently pointing a gun in his face. Daring eyed the beakers on the table behind him. A loud thud on the door, followed by shouts from Junior and Old Timer, distracted Daring’s attacker for a moment. In that moment, Daring grabbed the beaker and threw it at the attacker’s gun hand. The beaker shattered, and the glass cut into the man’s hand.
Daring leapt at the man even as the gun started falling to the ground. He swung his powerful fists, knocking his attacker off of his feet. But his attacker persisted, kicking out at Daring. He was soon on his feet again. This time, he grabbed a nearby stool and threw it at Daring. Daring dodged it, but the stool crashed into a set of breakers, spilling chemicals all over the room.
Daring raced across the room, but was too late in stopping the attacker from retrieving his gun. Daring’s hands latched onto the man’s wrists, and the attacker fired wildly. Sparks from the revolver landed on the chemicals, igniting them. Within seconds, the room was a full-blown inferno. Daring was determined that Jones’s murderer not get away, but a lucky blow from the assailant sent him back into the burning rumble as the attacker escaped through the window.
Outside, in the hallway, Old Timer and Junior struggled to break down the door, until a large explosion knocked them both off their feet, catapulting the door into the hallway after them.
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Written by J M Emmons. The story and all characters are copyrighted by J M Emmons.
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