The Mongo Machine - Chapter 7

John Carter. Buck Rogers. Crash Corrigan. Three Warriors. Out of Time.

Jun 14, 2026

This short story officially launched my House of Entropy and put sci-fi pulp front and center in the Public Domain Super Heroes universe. From this story, the novels The Metropolis of Mongo, The Marine Moon of Mongo and the forthcoming The Martian Monsters of Mongo were born.

A new chapter will go live every Sunday at 12:00 AM EST. I will update the links on each chapter at that time to point to the next installment in the story.

There is also an index page here if you lose track.

I hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER 07

“Shame it’s such a clear night,” observed Buck as he peered through his rifle’s scope at the dam below them. “A couple of guards don’t walk the entire length of their patrol. With a little luck we could slip through the gap, but it’s a cinch their buddies up in the towers spot us. That blizzard we had the other day would be just the ticket.”

Margit, hanging back and nursing her injured arm, hissed, “You shall have your cover, Captain Rogers. I will see to it.” A moment later, she vanished into the forest as if she’d never been.

“That woman gives me the heebie-jeebies,” observed Crash Corrigan. “She’s like cold smoke.” He made a fist, and with a puff of his cheeks, opened his fingers to mimic a waft of smoke, “Poof!”

“And a couple of aces short of a deck,” chuckled Buck with an upward glance. “Not a cloud in the sky.”

Wilma Deering looked through her scope, noting the patrol gap Rogers had identified. “We wait. There’s still a lot of night left, and if Margit says we’ll have cover, we’ll have cover.” She nodded to John Carter and the other two and ordered, “Make your way to that stand of trees just beyond their perimeter and wait for two clicks from me. I’ll stay on overwatch.”

“You’re not joining us?” asked Carter. Everyone knew she was the best shot of the four and none of the men were comfortable with taking her back into combat. She had proved herself a capable warrior in the last two days, though and the three of them had found themselves grudgingly accepting that she was not only technically in command of the mission, but also eminently qualified for the position. She’d kept them alive through twenty miles of Nazi territory. It had been a near thing, but her steel had served them well.

“I’ll be there, Carter,” she confirmed. “I’m just gonna watch your three pretty backsides to make sure you get there, first.”

“Hear that, Crash?” asked Buck with a grin. “She thinks I’ve got a pretty backside.”

“And I’ll put my foot in it if you don’t get it in gear,” she hissed.

The three men set off down the slope, expertly gliding through the shadows of the trees and scrub on the hillside. Had she not known where to look, she’d never have picked them out once they’d gone a few yards . Margit slid up beside her, sliding into the warm hollow Rogers had just vacated. She pulled a collapsible binocular from the pouch at her waist and scanned the dam for a few moments.

“They’re sloppy,” she noted.

“We’re deep behind the red line. I’d bet they don’t expect trouble from anywhere but the air,” suggested Deering. “No reason to waste crack troops on guarding a slab of concrete.”

“No reason at all,” said Margit with grim humour. She lifted her head and cocked it as if listening. “Your cover is close. Another quarter hour or less will see the snow begin to fall.”

“One of these days, you’re gonna have to explain to me just how you know that,” said Wilma.

“Wind, ice, and snow define this land. This land is of my people,” said the Norwegian woman. “We understand each other.”

“Uh-huh,” answered Deering, her tone somewhere between uncertainty and amusement. A single white flake wafted down and settled on the top of her rifle scope as if to clarify Margit’s statement.

Ten minutes later, Wilma sent two clicks over the radio to her team.

Three shadows detached themselves from the rest of the darkness, crouching low but making haste across the open ground between the trees and the shadow of the nearest tower. From her vantage on the hillside, Deering saw only the initial movement and then lost the men in the cover of the rapidly escalating blizzard. A moment later, two clicks came over the radio. They had made cover.

“Time to move,” she said to Margit.

“I will be right here,” answered the Norwegian, rolling into the hollow Wilma had been nestling in and settling in behind the scoped Lee-Enfield.

“Let’s hope I don’t need to test your skills,” whispered Wilma as she started down the slope, following the path taken by the team. Behind her, she heard the distinct clack of the bolt action on the rifle. Margit was a crack shot, almost as good as Deering herself. The snow she had apparently whistled up was looking to turn from squall to full on blizzard in unnaturally short order. The wind and whipping snow would make overwatch tricky, but there were few people Wilma trusted more.

The snow stinging her cheeks had lost its charm.