The Superlative Conspiracy

[Lady_Mornington]

***Featuring the Magnificent Magbeam as Ursa Major and Lady_Mornington as Liberty Belle*** ​

Somewhere over New York, July 4, 1962​

The silver barrel of the experimental laser cannon was elevated and aimed ready to incinerate the vast majority of the unsuspecting citizens of New York. It was a devious plan, worthy of the worst traitor America had seen since Benedict Arnold.

“Yes Mr. President. I demand a 1 billion dollars or else New York will be nothing but a heap of smoking ashes. Oh before I forget. Muhahahahahah!”

The manic laughter being the stock in trade of every villain wanting to qualify for the big league and the woman known to the public by her alias Red Dawn. The secret files kept by the CIA and CC would have identified her as Lorna Mitchell, formerly of Springfield Illinois. A trade union activist who, through the aide of International Communism, had shunned the American way and was now doing her utmost to bring about the fall of the world’s greatest democracy.

It was a devious plan, bringing an airship armed with von Braun’s laser cannon over New York and now threatening to turn the Big Apple into a charnel house. The Joint Chiefs of Staff had advised sending in the air force to shoot down the air ship and it would have worked out fine had it not been for the fact that Red Dawn had taken a hostage. A very important hostage at that. Bound to a chair in the cockpit of the air ship was none other than the First Lady of the United States. Jacqueline Lee Bouvier Kennedy.

“And if you want to see the First Lady again Mr President, then you better make sure the rest of the demands are being met. You have twenty minutes and to show you how serious I am…”

Red Dawn stared at the screen and turned a dial, causing a low hum to fill the cockpit and moments later a concentrated beam of pure light shot out and focused on the Statue of Liberty. For a moment the vision of the landmark shimmered before the giant woman began to melt, causing a flood of molten copper to pour out across Liberty Island.

“You monster…” The President’s voice was trembling as Red Dawn terminated the connection. Things were looking very dismal, with the military options exhausted it seemed America would have to forgo the policy of not negotiating with terrorists. But as Red Dawn was turning another dial the sounds of struggle crept through to the cockpit. The metal door was blown open and in the smoke of the explosion a slender figure was outlined against lingering flames.

“Hold it right there!” The masked figure vaulted, at the same time sending two of Red Dawn’s goons to the floor with a perfectly aimed kick. To an untrained eye, the only thing visible was a flurry of movement as America’s youngest superhero made her spectacular entry.

“Who are you?” Red Dawn looked up, holding a gun in her red-gloved hand

“I’m your worst nightmare Dawn, a teenager with her own check book and the constitutional right to bear arms.” The young woman made a theatrical bow but never letting the communist traitor out of her sight. She was wearing a pair of expensive sneakers, knee-length stockings, a short skirt and a low-cut top everything in a Stars and Stripes pattern, clearly showing that beauty and health went hand in hand with the principles of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness, of which she was the guardian. In comparison to the dreary and rather second-hand looking appearance of Red Dawn, it was evident, even to the most casual observer that the struggle between Freedom and Communism would always be won by the former, seeing as the latter lacked not only moral justification, respect for property but also style.

“It’s time someone put an end to your nonsense Dawn.” The young woman took a step to the side and then with the speed of a natural born superhero she launched into a flying roundhouse kick, which connected with the face of Communist aggression, sending the latter to the floor with a sickly sound.

“You’ve been purged Comrade!” She turned around to face the First Lady, and nodded deferentially. “Hello there Mrs K, we’ll soon have you back to Mr K.” The careful observer would have noticed that the woman seemed a bit embarrassed as she untied the First Lady and helped her get up from the chair, perhaps it was the fact that she was standing next to the wife of the most powerful man in the world, or that the First Lady looked thoroughly unperturbed by the ordeal she had been put through, even now her make-up was perfect.

“Thank you dear.” Mrs Kennedy offered her saviour a soft smile and extended her hand. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

Once again the masked young woman seemed a bit unsure how to handle the situation, appearing like she would rather have faced another dozen of Red Dawn’s Proletarian Henchmen than making small-talk with the First Lady. The blush which spread on her cheeks a clear sign of this, yet manners won and in a low, almost apologetic voice she answered.

“They call me Liberty Belle Ma’m.”

*****

Later the same day, Continental Congress of American Superheroes HQ. Washington DC.

“And before we conclude this briefing of the Continental Congress it is my privilege to introduce our newest member.

General Samuel Jefferson Davis; founder of Project Lexington, Southern Gentleman, decorated war veteran, leader of the group of extraordinary Americans more known as the Continental Congress stood up at his seat by the horseshoe shaped oak table and looked at his assembled colleagues. They constituted America’s first, last and definitively most reliable line of defence. It was a fantastic achievement, especially since the US had only begun the superhero programme in the 1940:s being fifty years behind Great Britain, two decades after the Soviet Union and a good ten years after Nazi-Germany. Not that it mattered now, American ingenuity and spirit had overcome the other countries showing them all who was boss.

Patriot, as he was known by his colleagues and the American people smiled as he placed his hand on the shoulder of the highest ranking woman in the room, Lauren Armistead Jefferson, more commonly known as Lady Liberty, his wife and thus mother of the newest addition to their select group. “Yes ladies and gentlemen, it gives me particular pleasure to be present my and Lady Liberty’s daughter Liberty Belle.”

There was a moment of silence, punctured by the hiss of the pneumatics as a portion of the metal wall rose in a cloud of steam. The assembled heroes looked down the length of the room where a petite figure stepped out from the corridor and came to attention in the middle of the room.

Annabelle Armistead Davies aka Liberty Belle. Eighteen years old and the nation’s most recent addition to the Continental Congress of Superheroes. She wore the statutory costume, modelled on her cheerleader outfit in a Stars and Stripes pattern. Her blue eyes partially obscured by a small mask, and the mane of blonde hair swept back and secured in two tails which hung down her shoulders to rest on her more than ample bosom. Up until now she had been the average American girl, living with her parents in an affluent part of Richmond, VA where she went to high school and spent her time between cheerleader practice, the library and the Church Youth Group. She loved her parents, America and Jesus in that order, and even as a child she had wanted nothing more than to do her part to further the wonderful ideals on which her great country had been founded. Today her wish had come true.

There were a few nods and smiles from the group as Patriot and Lady Liberty got up and took up position on either side of Liberty Belle, both of them beaming with parental pride. They had all right to do so seeing as Liberty Belle was the first generation of superheroes born in America. True, she was not the only teen-hero, there were the terrible twins Freedom and Independence but like the rest of the group their powers had been artificially created through Project Lexington.

“Let me introduce you to the rest of the gang Belle” Patriot gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Great Buffalo” He nodded to an ancient looking Native American who’s powers were the ability to call on the spirit guardians of his people as well as being able to transfigure himself into the Spirit of the Buffalo. “Freedom and Independence” The Californian twins, brunettes with identical looks and uniforms with telekinetic and telepathic powers. “Then there’s Bill Of Rights” Patriot indicated a red haired man sitting next to the twins. “He’s our resident strong man although not, perhaps a great thinker.” Bill of Right’s name was Bill O’Right and hailed from a line of Irish American immigrants. In spite of his superhuman strength he did not cut it too well with the Anglo-Saxon Protestants of the leading circle of the CC. Patriot was about to go on when he was interrupted by a young African American man who wore a pinstripe suit, a Derby hat and carried a tray to the table. “Sorry to interrupt Sir” He put down the tray on the table and withdrew to the corner of the room. “That’s Jim Crow, our odd-job man” Patriot offered the man a smile. The whole issue of coloured superheroes hadn’t gone down too well, especially not with the members of the CC who hailed from the South. Lady Liberty in particular was quite sceptic of the introduction of such. “And our last member is Brother Jonathan” Patriot nodded to a dour man dressed in a Quaker hat and a black 17:th century outfit. “He is our resident witch hunter and served until recently with Senator McCarthy.”

Liberty Belle gave a shy wave as she looked at the assembled heroes. It felt quite daunting being part of such a select group of Americans, and even though most of them seemed friendly enough she still felt that she had a lot to prove before she could count herself one of the team. Not that she lacked experience, she’d put an end to Red Dawn’s attempts of blackmailing the United States into becoming a Communist dictatorship, but it was still small fry, especially in comparison to what her parents had achieved. Patriot had single-handedly stormed Omaha Beach at Normandy and spearheaded the American liberation of Europe and finally slugging it out with Nazi villain Übermench.

It had all started during the war, when America had had to step up to the challenge placed on her by providence. The old regimes were falling apart and oppression had reared its ugly head. It was during these dark years that Project Lexington had been devised. In the remote desert of New Mexico Samuel Jefferson Davis and Lauren Armistead Davis had been the first Americans undergone a series of experiments to enhance their powers and abilities for the common defence.

“Don’t be shy now Belle” Lady Liberty gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder “These people are God fearing American patriots and I’m sure they will do their utmost to make you feel welcome but not if you don’t make the effort.” For a moment Liberty Belle was certain her mother would pinch her cheek which would have been akin to death by shame. While her parents were heroes and loyal Americans it didn’t stop them from being horribly embarrassing at times. Things didn’t really become better as Lady Liberty continued to stare imploringly at the assembled members of the Continental Congress, doing her best impression of a particularly keen leader of a troop of girl scouts. While Patriot was the nominal head of operations, there were no doubts that executive power rested securely with Lady Liberty, something which she had assumed by merit of being a mother.

Thankfully enough Belle was saved more humiliation as the large screen on the wall came to life, showing the face of Defence Secretary Robert McNamara.

“Sorry to interrupt like this but we’ve got a situation. A major one at that.” The screen crackled with static electricity as McNamara continued. “It’s a Code Purple. I say again a Code Purple.” The transmission was terminated almost as soon as it had begun.

“God Almighty.” Patriot said in barely a whisper before he composed himself and straightened his Uncle Sam-esque jacket. “You all know what this means.” He strode purposefully to the safe hidden in the opposite wall from the screen.

“Mom, I don’t know what it means.” Belle whispered to Lady Liberty who for once looked like she’d lost, at least temporarily, the serene demeanour which she wore together with the golden crown and the torch as part of her uniform.

“Code Purple Belle, that’s a national emergency meaning that we have sustained a nuclear attack or something of the magnitude. There is a portable computer in the safe and where the President’s orders are logged if the worst happens.” Lady Liberty had spoken in a quiet tone but the strength of which she gripped Belle’s shoulder bespoke how nervous she was.

“Hush let your father speak”. Lady Liberty cut her short as Patriot read the executive order.

“The President of the United States and the Secretary General of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics have ordered a joint operation. The briefing will take place in six hours in Reykjavik, Iceland and the designated delegate from the Continental Congress, by request by John Fitzgerald Kennedy himself is Liberty Belle.”

Belle felt all eyes on her again as the blush crept across her face. She? Being the chosen American to save the world. This must be the best 18:th birthday in the world!

http://www.aero-gold.com/images/Liberty%20Belle%20Nose%20Art.jpg​

 

[magbeam]

Ursa Major

Soviet Academy of Sciences, Moscow, USSR

"You'll never get away with this!" Academician Prokhor Zakharov spat from his position on top of a pile of stacked dynamite, tied up as he was along with his fellow comrades of the Academy. Unlike his other vanguards of socialist theory and scientific application, however, he had not been gagged, which left him free to negotiate with the ringleader of the madmen who had seized the heart of Soviet science and ingenuity.

"Oh, but my dear Doctor Prokhor, I already have!" From the shadows of the Great Chamber of the People that formed the main hall of the Academy, a figure stepped forth. Rotund, made fat by the largess of capitalist greed, his figure enhanced by the top hat and the wasteful, expensively-tailored suit he wore, a suit that could only have come from the heart of the truly decadent Western Europe. A suit whose color was green, and was sewn entirely from Amerikanski hundred-dollar bills.

"After all," cackled Capitalist Roader, leader of the Anti-Party Group whose stated goal was to topple Communism and the Soviet state that was its vanguard, "I have the bomb, don't I?"

"You may have the bomb, but the KGB has surrounded us," Zakharov continued to protest. "The Red Army and People's Police will have been mobilized. You won't be able to get away!"

"Who needs escape when I have no intention of going back to prison?" Capitalist Roader laughed. "Those Chekists could never hold me, anyways! I have the bomb, and unless the Presidium accedes to my demands, I will detonate it, and Moscow along with it!"

"You would kill yourself?" Zakharov went pale. "But suicide is a waste of the manpower needed to forge our socialist future!"

"Get rich or die trying!" Capitalist Roader retorted, laughing his maniacal laugh again. "All for one, and that one is me! I will not go back to prison again, either way! And if I do escape, don't worry - I will still detonate my little surprise beneath you and your comrades! With you gone, no one will be able to replicate the secrets of the T-bomb, and I will be able to sell its secrets on the black market!" He laughed yet again, the laugh of one whose sanity and moral balance have been utterly eroded by the societal mania that is capitalism. "No one can stop me! No one at all!"

At that precise moment, the glass windows that formed nearly the entire wall of the Chamber of the People shattered, as two bulky figures identical in their silver mechanical suits flew in, landing on spurts of rocket flame coming out of the jets built into the legs of their suits.

"Is that so, Capitalist Roader?" the first figure broadcast from his helmet's faceplate.

"I believe the League of Proletarian Defenders has something to say to that," voiced the other identical twin.

"Ah." Capitalist Roader's voice was flat, disappointed. "Sputnik and Vostok, the wonder twins. Or is it Vostok and Sputnik? I can never seem to keep you two apart."

From behind the pile of dynamite, two figures emerged, one white and one blue. Each was holding an elaborate weapon in their hands, and from each one, a net shot out, entwining the Cosmic Twins in a web of evil, drawing them together into a single mass in the center of the room.

"Thankfully, now I won't have to," Capitalist Roader deadpanned, walking up to them. "Good work, Running Dog, Revisionist Parasite." The other two members of the Anti-Party Group smiled dully at each other. "Titanium allow composite," Capitalist Roader noted to the struggling post-Marxist defenders of revolutionary struggle. "Unable to be broken, and with an ion charge that should keep your suits occupied until I've finished my withdrawal here." He tittered. "Third-generations. I would have hoped that your handler would have sent a bigger fish to try to stop me. I thought I would have ranked that high, at least. I'm offended, really."

At that moment, one of the concrete walls of the Academy building exploded inwards, showering shards of glass and chunks of cement everywhere. When the dust cleared, the cause of the implosion was clear. A vehicle was sitting in the middle of the Chamber; a squat, tracked vehicle painted dark red, resembling a Chelyabinsk tractor at heart the same way a MiG reflected its ancestral origins as a biplane. A number of rocket launchers, machine guns, and energy antennae sprouted from the front of it, and the rear gave off a healthy green glow from its atomic power generator. For second, there was absolute silence in the Chamber, until finally, gray-haired and wizened Zakharov muttered, in the tone of a Pioneer Youth awed at meeting the General Secretary, "The Proletractor!"

"It's him! He's here!" Running Dog nudged Revisionist Parasite, whispering at the same level as Academician Zakharov, but in a tone the exact opposite, as one might do if one was being investigated by the State Security Committee for smuggling in degenerate Western propaganda magazines.

With a smooth, hydraulic hiss, one side of the Proletractor swung open and out. A massive, thick leg emerged, followed by its mate, and a moment later, the Proletractor's driver was standing in the open. He was massive, not just tall but thickset, dressed in a tight, Communist-red leather uniform that left no doubt in the mind that his bulk came from the muscles of one who took Marx's lessons of exercising the mind via the body to heart, and not the fat of one who was used to the laziness inspired by the capitalist wilderness society. His hair on his head and beard was thick and dark, and the skin left exposed on his hands and chest revealed its profusion elsewhere, also. Along with its bulk, it gave the impression of him being a bear. In one hand, he held a large metal hammer, and in the other, a sickle. However, most attention was drawn to his chest, where in the center of his uniform, a large crystal, blood red and shaped into a five-pointed star, glowed brightly. The very Star of the Soviet Union itself.

"This is not your day, Comrade NEP Man," Ursa Major, Marshal of the Soviet Union and Chairman of the League of Proletarian Defenders, finally spoke.

"That is not my name!" screeched Capitalist Roader, in a manner now clearly angry than amused and taunting.

"That was your name when you served the Soviet people alongside my parents," countered Ursa Major, taking a single, massive step towards the former Soviet defender turned Western imperialist agent. "Your name, until you fell under the sway of the very corruption you sought to destroy. Until Comrade Stalin finally saw the truth of your ways and exposed you to the mercy of the People's justice."

"Your old man was a madman! I never betrayed anyone - the Revolution betrayed me! I was innocent! They all were" Capitalist Roader began to warily circle Ursa Major.

"You are a Trotyskyite, now, comrade? Your loyalties are ever shifting, it seems." As ever, Ursa Major was the exemplar of Soviet moderation and Marxist stability. "As for my father, Old Boleshvik remained loyal even through the hard times, when our Revolution was brought to the brink of collapse by spies such as yourself."

"Your old man was Stalin! You know it! You're letting them revise your history! You're doing it yourself!" In his anger, Capitalist Roader began spouting off obvious lies that were transparent to any good comrade who could analyze the situation from a dialectical standpoint. Ursa Major sighed.

"I grow tired of this dance of ours, Comrade NEP Man. As your new friends say, let your buck stop here."

Letting out an incoherent scream, Capitalist Roader charged towards the stalwart vanguard of the inevitable historical triumph of socialist will. With a single flick of of his wrist, Ursa Major tossed his sickle. It flew around the room, cutting through the bonds holding the Cosmic Twins incapacitated, before returning to Ursa Major. By that time, Capitalist Roader had come within range, and had received a smash from the Hammer of the People to his head. In moments, the battle was over, the Anti-Party Group were tied up with their own cable, the dynamite disarmed, and the Academicians freed.

"Foiled by their own weapons and the greed with which they employed them," Ursa Major remarked, nodding down towards the three enemies of the state. "What a typical example of the capitalist system."

"What will happen to them?" Zakharov asked, delivering a well-aimed kick to Running Dog's head.

"They will be returned to Arkhamovitch Gulag for rehabilitation," Ursa Major answered. "Hopefully this time, they will remain there somewhat longer before escaping. The socialist system of society does not allow for the creation of a madman or lunatic. How can it, when the will and actions of all people are unified and directed towards a common goal by the vanguard of the Party? Insanity is a purely capitalist symptom of the capitalist tendency for isolation and propagation of baser instincts. Therefore, the Anti-Party Group's unfortunate behavior comes about not due to anything intrinsic to their psyches, but their exposure to capitalism, and with time, their immersion into socialist education and work shall reverse their damage."

Ursa Major, a noted scholar of Marxist theory who had addressed the 20th Party Congress, could have expounded on such social notions for some time, had not a warning buzzer - the communication incoming alarm - from the Proletractor gone off at that moment. Returning to his vehicle's cockpit, Ursa Major activated the button, and the fuzzy TV-radio device activated, showing the concerned face of Commissioner Andropov.

"Comrade Ursa Major, the General Secretary has urgent need of you at the Kremlin," the State Security head advised over the visi-radio. "It concerns matters of importance and stability of world peace. He requires your expertise in this area immediately."

"I shall make my way there immediately, Commissioner Andropov," the Hero of Socialist Labor assured. "Ursa Major out." Stepping forth from his vehicle, he addressed the Cosmic Twins.

"Once the KGB has taken custody of the Anti-Party Group and removed them to Arkhamovitch, you will need to return the Proletractor back to the Invisible Fortress." The League of Proletarian Defenders was based in Kitezh, an invisible fortress located beneath Lake Svetloyar initially constructed in the thirteenth century to protect the Grand Princes of Vladimir from Mongol incursion. It had since become the headquarters of the Opiate Superstitions Troika, until the All-Russian Extraordinary Society for Combating Counterrevolution - the original team of Soviet heroes of advanced labor - had defeated them following the Revolution. Since then, the refuge for magic and superstition had been transmuted via Soviet science and industry into a gleaming symbol of the twentieth century and Marxism's place in it.

"You got it, Comrade Chairman Ursa Major!" Sputnik said. "We won't let you down!"

"It is not me you would let down," Ursa Major gravely responded, "but rather the Soviet nation who, through the aegis of Party leadership and stalwarts, have placed their trust into our hands." Then, summoning his immense energy, Ursa Major flew into the air, bursting easily through the steel and concrete roof of the Academy, and within an instant was flying in the air over Moscow. In the clouds of the chill Moscow dusk, a single spot of light could be seen: the shadow of a hammer and circle projected from a floodlight on the roof of the Kremlin, reflected off the clouds above. The signal Commissioner Andropov activated whenever the Soviet people had need of their masked defender. The Ursignal.

From below, the workers heading towards the Evening Domestic Production Shift paused to look up as he flew overhead. Even the guards of the Lenin Mausoleum briefly let their gaze be distracted upwards as he flew over Red Square. He could hear the voices waft up from below.

"Eto ptitsa!"

"Eto samolyotye!"

"Nyet, eto Bolshoi Medvyedye!"

The balcony of the Kremlin State Office was left open, and Ursa Major delicately landed next to the floodlight that was the source of the Ursignal. Commissioner Andropov was next to it, and switched it off when the brave defender of proletariats worldwide made his entrance.

"Dobrey utra, Yuri Vladimirovich," Ursa Major greeted the KGB Commissioner.

"Good day to yourself, as well, Comrade Ursa Major." Andropov led the way into the Kremlin. "Nikita Sergeyevich is this way, in his office. Two of your fellow Heroes of Socialist Labor are already debriefing him on the situation."

As they approached the office General-Secretary Khrushchev, Ursa Major could make out several sets of giggling coming from within. With a cough, Andropov knocked on the door. There was a sudden cessation of the feminine giggling, and the sound of hurried rustling coming from within, before Khrushchev finally called out, "Enter! Enter, my friends!"

Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev, General-Secretary of the Communist Party, Premier of the Soviet Union, and leader of the socialist world sat behind his desk, his suit ruffled and his tie still untied, giving the impression of having dressed in haste. However, he was more composed than his two companions, two junior members of Ursa Major's League of Proletarian Defenders. Minsky Komsomoletsk was from some small town in northern Ukraine, and had the ability to manipulate atomic forces; the other, Virgin Lands, was a small and dusky Kazakh who drew her abilities from the fertility of the Soviet agricultural program. They were both young and female, and Ursa Major doubted that their debriefing of the Comrade General-Secretary had been done much more than in the literal sense.

"Thank you, comrades, that will be all," Ursa Major addressed the two teenaged girls of the team. "You may return to Kitezh, now. The Cosmic Twins will need help processing the Anti-Party Group for their return to Arkhamovitch."

"Splendid work there, tovarisch!" Khrushchev exclaimed. "Splendid indeed! I knew I could count on you - like always! You are the foundation with which the Soviet state shall build its communist future!"

"You flatter me, Nikita Sergeyevich. But it is impermissible and foreign to the spirit of Marxism-Leninism to elevate one person, to transform him into a superman possessing supernatural characteristics, akin to those of a god. Such a man supposedly knows everything, sees everything, thinks for everyone, can do anything, is infallible in his behavior. I would not have that on my shoulders."

"But if anyone in the Soviet state is a superman, than it is you!" Khrushchev argued. "You have proven that, time after time! You and your kind are the first and finest examples of the new Soviet man, of the transformation of even basic human abilities under the collective unity and solidarity of the Marxist-Leninist vanguard!" The jocular First Secretary grew serious. "Which is why I need you. Ever since the Caribbean Crisis with the Amerikanskis and the split with Mao and his Stalinist perversions of Marxist-Leninism, the Soviet Union has been in a precarious state - the world has. The war between the Chinese and the Indians did not help. I believe you are adequately familiar with that. However, I received a communique from President Kennedy a short while ago, asking for our...assistance in a matter."

"The Amerikanski is asking for help from us? Who he threatened war with when we merely were attempting to protect our Cuban comrades from their own threats of invasion and war?"

Khrushchev nodded. "Your grasp of the situation is superb. However, President Kennedy was suitable contrite. He offered us extended concessions in Eastern Europe and Southeast Asia, as well as economic platforms, which I have decided are for the best if we are to sustain a peace and construct communism within twenty years."

Ursa Major could tell there was more to the situation. "What is is that he needs help with?"

"The Amerikanskis will give you a more detailed description when you arrive at the meeting point," the General-Secretary continued. "Suffice to say, a number of their...I believe they call them 'superheroes' over there, have gone missing. They are believed to have been captured by the Chinese. Hence why the Amerikanskis want us - a united front against the Maoist deviationists."

"Chinese?" Ursa Major perked up at that, and Khrushchev nodded. "One in particular. I believe her code name is Jade Dragon. I believe you two have had dealings in the past, have you not, before the split with Mao? Hence why I thought you to be the best man for this. Besides your other qualifications, of course."

"Jade Dragon." Ursa Major said the name flatly, but rose to his feet. There was never any doubt in his mind that he would accept this assignment; after all, Comrade Nikita Sergeyevich was the General-Secratary and the head of the Communist Party that he served. But the name of Jade Dragon, and the memories she stirred up, were enough to settle it.

"Very well. Where do I meet my counterpart?"

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Liberty Belle

The 4:th of July 1962 taught Belle an important lesson. Not only would America never negotiate with terrorists, but it also caused her to wholly realize that being an American really boiled down to asking what you could do for your country and not the other way round. Not that Belle had ever considered behaving in any other way; after all it was the very essence of the Second Amendment of the Constitution. Not the whole thing about bearing arms, Belle did quite well without having to resort to such, but the need for a well regulated Militia. Her father had explained the greatness of the Constitution to her a long time ago, and as she had now become a member of the Continental Congress, Patriot had further gone on, as was his habit, to label the CC that militia.

The whole mission she had been given, by the President himself, clearly showed just how powerful the idea of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness was. Be it as it may that she would have to cooperate with a representative for the Evil Empire that was the Soviet Union. Belle was quite certain that while the Soviet Union and Communism were intrinsically evil entities, it could well be that the person she was about to work with was nothing more than a misguided individual, who just needed to see the light. Lady Liberty had explained that religion had long since been banned in the USSR, a notion which was so alien to Belle that it lacked comparison. How could anyone claim to lead a decent life without ever getting the chance of hearing the Good Word? The world was indeed a complicated place, but it was Belle’s firmly held belief that nothing or no one was beyond the point of salvation. It was therefore she had taken the time to use the kitchens of the Continental Congress to bake a genuine American Apple Pie. It might be that the Soviets were barbarians and Godless heathens, but surely no one was immune to pie?

True there had been some snags, Jim Crow had been somewhat apprehensive about letting Belle use the state of the art appliances of the kitchens without his supervision, something which Lady Liberty had no taken kindly to. That was another issue which Belle had yet to come to grips with. America had yet to be fully integrated, and while she supported the rights of the negroes, it felt very strange indeed to be in the same room as one. She knew that her father was a whole-hearted supporter of the Civil Rights Movement, but he had yet to convince Lady Liberty of the virtues thereof.

Anyhow, the pie had been baked to perfection, owing not so much to Jim Crow’s appliances as it did to Belles’ supreme abilities in the kitchens. Like her mother, Belle considered that the true American woman’s place was in fact by hearth and home. Saving the world was all very well and something which every patriot should dedicate his or her life to, but at the end of the day Belle wanted nothing more than to settle down and raise a family, just like her parents had done.

What Belle further had learned was the fact that while in America people had the ability to travel, and that they were further allowed to go wherever they pleased thanks to the foresightedness of the Founding Fathers, this was not the case for the rest of the world. It had become painfully obvious as Patriot and Lady Liberty had tried and organize Belle’s trip to the Iceland Summit. From DC she would have to go by helicopter, Belle shuddered at the mere recollection, Canada. The reason was that the mission she was about to embark on was of the magnitude that absolute secrecy was necessitated. Thus she couldn’t just hop on a jet fighter bound for Keflavik airbase, but had to go by route of Ottawa. It was not that Belle disliked America’s northern neighbour on a general principle; true the country was a virtual socialist state and while the United States had cast of the shackles of Oppression a long time ago the Canucks clung to subservience to the Mother Country. It did not sit well with Belle, but the main reason why Belle felt the way she did was more personal.

A few years back Patriot had been carrying out a mission in Alaska together with Canada’s only (and definitively not one who qualified for the suffix super-) hero, Maple Leaf. Apparently the woman in question was the daughter of the Prime Minister Diefenbaker, and apparently the aim of the deranged Canuck had been to overthrow two hundred years of independence and to reinstate the Monarchy in the Americas. Belle was not partial to the whole plan, but she knew that there had been an attempted smear-campaign of Patriot’s good name and reputation, implying that he had in fact had an affair with that Maple Leaf woman. This had caused him to be the focus of an investigation by none other than Senator McCarthy himself. It was not fair, everyone knew that McCarthy himself had once applied to become a member of the Continental Congress but failed not once but three times over. That was the real reason why that odious man had gone through with the whole thing.

It was truly depressing that even people who had the great benefit of being citizens of the world’s greatest democracy, could be as petty as the dratted McCarthy. Belle was by all accounts a person who believed in Christian charity and loving thy neighbour, but she was perfectly happy adhering to a more Old Testament interpretation as far as the senator in question was concerned, and that Canadian floozy as well.

Belle did, as mentioned earlier, loved her parents, America and Jesus in that order, and any person, be they a superhero or villain ought better to think twice before messing with any of those. The determined gaze Belle shot out the window of the aircraft should have been enough to give any candidate of such nightmares.

But while Belle held very firm convictions, she was not one to hold a grudge, if the matter had been concluded, and she had also learned early on not to waste her energy on matters over which she held no immediate influence. Therefore she leaned back, tucking her legs up beneath her and wrapping the Stars and Stripes cape around her, stealing a few moments of sleep before they arrived in Iceland, safe in the knowledge that the apple pie would be perfectly preserved in the special asbestos casing which Jim Crow had supplied her with, and for which she had to sign for in triplicate. Besides, there were more things to keep the mind of America’s youngest super heroine busy: she was after all a teenager and captain of the cheerleading squad. Belle smiled as she fell herself drift off to sleep, thinking about the handsome Chad Thornebridge, the captain of the football team and the most likely candidate for the position as her boyfriend. All very chaste of course, a good Christian girl did not let herself be tempted, the Reverend Michaels had been very firm on the subject. Abstinence was the will of the Lord. Further there was the whole thing about her abilities, even though it had not been substantiated, her father had mentioned that there was a real risk losing them if temptation grew too much to resist. Not that there was any chance of that. Belle was a good girl who loved her parents, America and Jesus in that order, and nice as it might be to hold hands with Chad Thornebridge, she would never jeopardize her abilities for something which by rights belonged to a married life.

She woke up by the very firm bump as the aircraft touched down on the tarmac of Keflavik airbase. By merit of being the daughter of America’s most celebrated superhero couple, Belle had done her fair share of flying and thus she was well ready when the doors were opened and a Willy’s Jeep was driven up to the aircraft. Two Marines got out, both of them standing at attention which was only right and proper seeing as Belle’s abilities had been deemed corresponding with the rank of major in all four branches of the American Defence Forces.

The weather was horribly cold, apparently there were no trees on Iceland so the winds strafed the miserable little island as they saw fit. Further there wasn’t any real cities, Belle had learned this much from the briefing she’d got from Lady Liberty before getting on the plane. A backwards, isolated country where the main industry was fishing and, Belle shuddered, people still worshipped horrible pagan deities. What good could come out of that? Still the Icelandic had had the sense of ousting the Danish oppressors and becoming a republic like America. That spoke to their advantage and the fact that the US had the lease of the airbase at Keflavik. But as Lady Liberty had pointed out, most other nations of the world were really like children and needed not reprimands but encouragement. In due time they would realize that the American way was the right way.

The driving took almost an hour, and once more Belle was pleased that she had gotten the asbestos casing for the apple pie, as well as the fact that her skin was resistant to bullets, fire and mild radiation, she was also fairly insensitive to the cold which enveloped the landscape. They finally reached a cliff formation which looked like the thousands of others that littered the landscape. Apparently they were the remnants of volcanic activity; another titbit of information provided by Lady Liberty, but this one proved very different indeed. As the jeep neared the solid cliff it parted to reveal an opening into the very mountain. Probably built by American engineers, Belle thought as the jeep cruised on and came to a halt in a vast hall. From there Belle was escorted by two other Marines to a steel door with a code lock. One of the soldiers punched the numbers and the door swung open with a hiss.

Inside was a room looking very much like the HQ of the Continental Congress. At the head of the table was none other than Secretary of State for Defence Robert Strange McNamara who stood up to greet Belle with a wide smile.

“My dear Liberty Belle, how good of you to come. I’m sure you’re tired after the journey but the matter is so grave that we must begin at once.” He looked at his watch and scratched his chin. “Unfortunately the damn Ruskies haven’t arrived yet, but what can you expect eh? They’re probably going in a steam-liner from Archangelsk.” He sat down and shouted in the intercom. “Can we get a pot of coffee here.”

“I brought some apple pie.” Belle volunteered as she opened the asbestos casing and took out the pie, which was still pleasantly hot. She put the pastry on the polished oak table and stood patiently by an empty chair, after all one didn’t sit down until properly invited to do so. McNamara finally realized that and offered her a seat as the coffee was being served. “My, my this was a pleasant surprise.” The Defence Secretary had just stuffed his mouth with a generous helping of Belle’s pie when the doors opened again, revealing the Soviet delegation who looked at Belle and McNamara in a quizzical way, which was not too strange seeing as the latter was busy chewing through the pie.

“What!” McNamara finally managed to blurt out. “Haven’t you Godless commies never seen a man eating a piece of pie? Ha I bet that’s not even allowed in your heathen country. Now sit down and keep your mouths shut. This is Liberty Belle by the way.”

He indicated for the two Soviets to take a seat and pressed the button of a remote control. “Here’s the situation.”

http://www.aero-gold.com/images/Liberty%20Belle%20Nose%20Art.jpg​

 

[magbeam]

Ursa Major

The Krasniy Oktyabr was the most advanced submarine in the Red Fleet. From Moscow, both Ursa Major and Comrade Foreign Commissar Andrei Andreyevich Gromyko had been rushed to the Red Banner Northern Military Fleet in Polyarny, Murmansk to board it. From there, the flagship of the Red Fleet had immediately set sail, its course laid in for Iceland. Even if they had not had the permission of the NATO authorities to travel to the tine North Atlantic island occupied by the imperialist Amerikanski military, the advanced design of the Krasniy Oktyabr, embodying the socialist science of the Soviet people, would enable the vessel to slip through the GIUK gap in the NATO SOSUS sonar relay lines. The western imperialists powers would not realize that their Soviet enemies were upon them until too late. Krasniy Oktyabr had been designed for that very purpose - the ability to deliver a crippling first-strike nuclear assault had become only more apparent following the recent end of the Caribbean Crisis, when the stationing of Soviet superheroes in Cuba had nearly triggered a war with the Amerikanskis. However, its advanced drive contained a price for its stealth, that of reduced speed. Given the current situation, even if it was dire, the imperialists could be made to wait for a bit. They would learn, whether they wanted to or not, that no one could bully about the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. This was not the old era with the Czar who came scampering after the Europeans he desperately wished to emulate. And when the Soviet delegation did arrive, in its own time, it would do so in a manner that would demonstrate conclusively the advancement of Soviet technology and strategy. Even the preamble to this meeting would serve its purpose in furthering the agenda of the liberated workers of the East against the machinations of Western capitalism.

Ursa Major understood this well, and accepted it as a sound diplomatic strategy. After all, he was just a mere agent of the Communist Party and its General-Secretary, not a master of diplomacy such as Andrei Andreyevich. He, too, was a Hero of Socialist Labor, under the code name Comrade Nyet, for his ability to overcome the feeble attempts of Western minds to pervert the socialist cause and to convince using mesmeric techniques peoples of other nations to join the Communist cause. As a member of the Politburo under the direct command of the General-Secretary, Comrade Nyet was not part of the League of Proletarian Defenders and therefore out of Ursa Major's direct realm of command. The third Hero of Socialist Labor aboard the Krasniy Oktyabr, however, was, and it was her presence aboard that caused more irritation to Ursa Major than the dank and cramped confines of the submarine - after all, he had lived in worse situations during the Great Patriotic War. Rodina, however, had not.

The history of Rodina dated as far back as the dawn of Soviet Communism and the Soviet superhero project itself. During the Russian Civil War, a number of Bolshevik and White forces clashed in Siberia, near the location of the 1908 Tunguska meteorite impact. Some unknown property of the crater, be it natural radiation or some sort of alien energy field, caused the participants to undergo what was now understood - thanks to the advanced science of Comrades Trofim Lysenko, Ilya Ivanov, and Filip Preobrazhensky - to be genetic mutation. These participants evolved into the first groups of what were now known in the West as "masked adventurers" or "superheroes," but were known in the Soviet Union most properly as "Post-Marxist Defenders of Revolutionary Struggle" or "Heroes of Socialist Labor."

Following the end of the Civil War, the Bolshevik 'Defenders' were organized into the first Soviet superhero team under the aegis of the Cheka secret police organization: the All-Russian Extraordinary Society for Combating Counterrevolution. Those early pioneers included The Hammer, Comrade Union, Red Flag, Iron Felix and Rodina, whose name translated into English as "Motherland." Until the 1930s, the Extraordinary Society served first Lenin and then Stalin as protectors of the Workers' Paradise against such enemies as the Opiate Superstitions Troika and the persistent Western-backed 'adventurer', White Russian.

However, starting in the mid 1930s, an increasing number of 'Defenders' were being found by the NKVD to be guilty of treason and collusion with Western superhero leagues, and sentenced to execution or harsh labor when possible, where their super strengths could be put to use. When Germany began to re-arm, showing off such superheroes as Ubermensch, Super Skorzeny, Iron Cross, and Doctor Death, Stalin in his wisdom began to see the need to rebuild the ranks of the Soviet defenders. And so in 1937, amidst much publicity, Ursa Major had been born to Rodina.

According to the established and true history of the Soviet Union and issued by the Academy of Sciences, Ursa Major's father was Old Bolshevik, a Hero of Socialist Labor who was curiously scant from the archives of the early days of the Revolution and Civil War before being purged by Stalin after being revealed as a Trotskyist wrecker, although Comrade Khrushchev had recently rehabilitated him. However, a stubborn minority, their faulty beliefs aided by the propaganda of Western agents that had only recently been suppressed and replaced with the true truth after Khrushchev's purging of the Stalinist cadres, believed the rumors that placed Stalin himself as Ursa Major's father. Stalin's own chosen name did mean 'Man of Steel', after all, a term deemed suitably super-heroic in various Leningrad workers' circles. True, Soviet press had printed that very fact for nearly twenty years, but after Khrushchev had come to power and initiated de-Stalinization, it was proven that such ideas were planted by counter-revolutionary agents of Western imperialist capitalism.

Regardless of whoever his true father had been (and in Ursa Major's mind there was no doubt that the Communist Party researchers were entirely correct in rooting out the capitalist lies and stating his father to be Old Bolshevik), Ursa Major's childhood had not seen much of either of them. He has been born on November 7th, 1937, the twentieth anniversary of Lenin proclaiming Bolshevik power in the Petrograd Soviet at the start of the Revolution. Shortly later, the Extraordinary Society was finally dissolved and Rodina was dispatched to Siberia to protect against Japanese imperialism. He had been raised by the NKVD, subjected to advanced genetic research by esteemed scientists such as Lysenko, Ivanov, Preobrazhensky, and Ivan Michurin. The result of this was his rise to full mental and physical maturity in only a few short years due to the effects of him being a second-generation "Tunguskite". Therefore, he had come of age during the Great Patriotic War, which saw the triumphant return to service of all the formerly disgraced and Siberian-bound Extraordinary Team.

All paled before the might of Ursa Major, however; beyond his immense physique and mind, he was equipped with the Star of the Soviet Union and armed with his two hand-held weapons, the Hammer and the Sickle. The Star of the Soviet Union was a glowing, five-pointed atomic ruby that had been transmuted from the heart of Koschei the Deathless upon his final capture by the Extraordinary Society, provided by physicist Abram Ioffe and granting him truly super-human abilities. The Hammer was reforged from the Sword Kladenets, of the ancient rumors of the oppressed, in the proletarian foundries of Magnitogorsk. And the Sickle was cast from Tunguskonium, the metallic substance that formed the original Tunguska meteorite. All were the symbols of the advancement of Soviet science and industry over the superstition and barbarism of the past.

Ursa Major led the Red Army at Stalingrad, where he was used as a major propaganda boost when he defeated the Germans attempting to seize the city named after (the man who was at that point mistakenly believed to be) his father. By the time the war ended, he had become Marshal of the Soviet Union and accepted the surrender of the Wehrmacht in Berlin following his harrowing battle with - and defeat of - Super-Skorzeny, the ultimate of the SS Ubermensch. Following the end of the Great Patriotic War and the start of the Cold War, Stalin allowed the formation of a second superhero organization, the Revolutionary Commission to Smash Capitalism and Fascism in Russia. Based in the Invisible Fortress of Kitezh beneath Lake Svetloyar and commanded by Ursa Major, it included such "second generation" luminaries as Apparatchik, Super Stakhanovite, New Soviet Man, and Party Vanguard. He personally saved the Soviet Union countless times from the villainous Anti-Party Group, consisting of such super-villains as Capitalist Roader, Running Dog, and Revisionist Parasite; despite foiling their counter-revolutionary plots and imprisoning them in the feared Arkhamovitch Gulag, they always seemed to keep escaping.

Following the death of Stalin in 1953, the Anti-Party Group staged a massive breakout and nearly succeeded in launching a coup against Khrushchev, the new General-Secretary. Ursa Major personally saved the General-Secretary's life during the crisis; along with the fact that the constant breakouts from the NKVD-run Arkhamovitch had finally given Khrushchev a chance to depose NKVD chief Lavrenti Beria, the victory over the coup allowed Khrushchev a chance to portray the superheroes as being "de-Stalinized" following his 1956 "secret speech". It was at this time that Ursa Major received his corrected biographic history, and the Revolutionary Commission to Smash Capitalism and Fascism was renamed the League of Proletarian Defenders,. It still retained its same leadership under Ursa Major, its same headquarters in Kitezh, and its same mandate: to defend truth, revolution, and the Communist way of life in Russia. In the following years, some of the more 'hardline' members of the League were re-assigned to protect Siberia and Outer Mongolia, with their ranks being replaced by a number of "third generation Tunguskites": Commissar Communism, the twin duo of Sputnik and Vostok, Mass Line, and Mass Line's teenage sidekick, the all-Russian boy wonder Communist Youth. To this day, Ursa Major and his League of Proletarian Defenders were the ultimate vanguard against socialist deviation, cultural degeneration, and all threats, inside or out, to the Soviet envisioning of the Workers' Paradise.

Of course, Rodina did not live to see her dream of establishing a safe and secure Communist paradise come true. Shortly after the end of the Great Patriotic War and the surrender of the Japanese, Pravda briefly reported her death of cancer while on assignment, stationed in Outer Mongolia to protect its revolutionary citizens. The current Rodina was a "third-generationer" like many of Ursa Major's current League. According to the official records of the League, Party, and KGB, the Rodina code-name superseded the individual, as individualism was a sign of the weaknesses that so divided capitalist society, yet in common usage, she was still referred to as "Rodina II" just as his mother was now known as "Rodina I." Ursa Major had never met his mother. She had been assigned to Siberia following his birth, and she was one of the few who had not been recalled for the Great Patriotic War, instead left in the East to protect against any possible Japanese aggression. Ursa Major's resentment of Rodina II holding the name was therefore nothing personal and not based on any of the familial emotional entrapments that so plagued societies that had yet to benefit from the liberation of scientific socialism. Instead, he saw it as the besmirchment of one of the true revolutionary spirits who had guided the Soviet state in its formation, by one of the new sixties generation who had not even come of age during the Great Patriotic War and for whom revolutionary struggle and dedication were mere phrases untested by the fires of struggle.

When the Krasniy Oktyabr finally took up station off of Iceland and rose to the surface, therefore, Ursa Major assigned Rodina II to remain onboard and defend any incursion from the Amerikanski Navy. He and Comrade Nyet took one of the vessels hovercraft ashore, where several surly Amerikanski Marines led them through the NATO base into a fortified command center. Inside were two individuals. One was McNamara, the odious Secretary of Defense whose warmongering had so recently brought the world to the brink of annihilation in the Caribbean Crisis and even now was escalating his war of genocide in a misguided attempt to prevent the national reunification and liberation of the Vietnamese people. The other individual, identified quickly by the Amerikanski Secretary of Defense as "Liberty Belle", resembled nothing so much as an underage Berlin prostitute, a teenaged girl dolled up in the manner of a trollop as so many capitalist girls did and in a uniform so patently ridiculously unprotective and bare bones, it could only belong to one of the Westerners' treasured and so-called "superheroes." He wracked his brains. He couldn't remember any "Liberty Belle" among the KGB surveillance information delivered from Commissioner Andropov, and Andropov was immensely and coldly efficient. A new member of their team, then, of course. How like the Amerikanskis to assign untested newcomers to delicate international situations. Such assignments by Kennedy had been responsible for the Caribbean Crisis, after all.

"I trust I need no introduction," Comrade Nyet said, being well known to the Amerikanski diplomats under his civilian name, Gromyko. "And this is Comrade Marshal Ursa Major, the leader of our cadre of New Soviet Men. In the name of the people of the Soviet Union, we greet you." He removed a small loaf of black bread, sprinkled salt on it, then placed it on the table with a flask of tea. "A traditional Russian greeting. Na starovye. To your health." With the socialist politeness finished, the impatient McNamara began his overview.

"Here’s the situation. As we all know, the Nazis were not defeated in 1945. Rather, they escaped to their secret Ahnenerbe facility they established in Antarctica as part of their New Swabia Expedition of 1938. Our Operation Highjump of 1946-47 was designed to eradicate this Fourth Reich, but we were forced to sign a secret truce with them due to the power of their Thule Sorcerers and the Spear of Destiny they possessed. With the Treaty of New Berlin, the United Nations secretly agreed to cede Antarctica and the Moon to the Fourth Reich in exchange for their continued peaceful isolation. This is all common sense history that we all know, so I don't feel any need to go over it deeper."

Ursa Major nodded, looking around the table and then at the wall-projected slides of Operation Highjump. He recalled well how, with the end of the Great Patriotic War resulting in one third of the Soviet industry and one fifth of the Soviet population being destroyed, Stalin was all to eager to allow the fascists to be banished from the Soviet border to the far reaches of Earth. 'Let the capitalists worry about them, while we build socialism in one country.'

"In recent years, our intelligence sources have indicated increased communication between the non-aligned nation bloc and the Fourth Reich. This increased markedly following the recent split between the Soviets and the Red Chinese, especially after the latest little flare-up in India and over the superheroes in Cuba. Three days ago, a convention of the International Atomic Energy Agency Research Symposium in Pretoria wad disrupted. Over two hundred atomic scientists, from both the East and the West, have simply disappeared. At the location of the symposium, our intel agents snapped an image of these targets, identified as both Nazi and Red Chinese."

Ursa Major, the bastion of socialism stoicism, did not flinch or make any sign of outward response when the image of Jade Dragon, flanked by creatures eerily resembling the cybernetic Skorzeny he had fought to the death in Berlin at the end of the war, appeared on screen. Unless the Amerikanskis had developed some new ability to manipulate photos, it certainly appeared that his former...comrade was working with the Fourth Reich Nazis.

"The goal is simple," McNamara was saying now. "This effects both of our nations. Both of our scientists are at stake, and an alliance between these forces could prove disastrous to both Washington and Moscow. If the Red Chinese are involved, then President Kennedy especially wants Moscow's involvement here, to show the world that both the West and the East are working together. After what almost happened over Cuba, we have no choice but to make sure a clash like that between our countries doesn't happen again. In return for your assistance in this matter, the President is willing to offer continued aide and a promise that no attempt will be made to infringe upon Warsaw Pact nations." He looked at his watch. "The sooner, the better, as well. I have the feeling this isn't the kind of thing that will wait."

Ursa Major pulled Comrade Nyet to the side. "He's telling the truth," the Foreign Commissar said, and Ursa Major nodded.

"Very well. As Nikita Sergeyevich placed me in command of this mission, Andrei Andreyevich, I will accept the Amerikanski offer. I myself will accompany their 'masked adventurer.' You and Rodina shall return to the Soviet Union aboard the Krasniy Oktyabr and report to the Politburo." He held up a pre-emptive hand. "I can more than handle this on my own, and it is essential in any case for Rodina to return with you to ensure that the submarine is not attacked and that you return to Moscow safely. The danger to our Motherland is too great for me to decide otherwise."

"You'll receive the Order of Lenin for this, Comrade," Gromyko said with an air of awed solemnity. As the Foreign Commissar walked over to speak to McNamara, Ursa Major made his way to Liberty Belle.

"It seems that we two shall be comrades in this affair," he simply stated.