The Arctic Crypt...

STANLEY Gustafson stood by the barn door and watched as the morning sun rose over the well-tended lands that were his farm in Northern Ontario. Stanley was already pasted his fortieth birthday, but his physical condition was still much as it had been during the war when he had been in his twenties. In those days long past, Stanley had been known as the costumed hero Crusader and along with his companions, Miss Steelwill, Red-Claw and Cat-man, he had battled the Nazi oppression.

But after the war ended, it seemed there was little need for super-heroes such as he. The Prime Minister, in a politely-worded directive had said as much. Not only were they a redundancy with the presence of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, but as a whole they were an unknown commodity. The Prime Minister wisely surmised that the Canadian public was likely to fear the unknown and his government was not prepared to publicly acknowledge their very existence, let alone the vast contribution the Canadian Shield made to the war effort.

Since the death of Miss Steelwill at the end of the war, Stanley had had very little contact with the remaining members of his team. Red-Claw, he knew had returned to his people's reservation, and although Cat-Man's whereabouts were a complete unknown, Stanley suspected the expert pilot was involved in the development of a new Canadian warplane that he had heard rumours about.

Stanley himself had returned home where he experimented with a number of placid occupations before at last taking over the reins of the family farm. It had taken him a good while, but Stanley now felt that he would be perfectly contented to live out this simple existence for the remainder of his days.

It was with some great surprise therefore, upon this idyllic morning, that Stanley detected the unmistakable sound of his special wrist-watch. The watch contained a receiver which could be activated by a secret transmitter in the Prime Minister's office. It was a summons. A call to action.

Moments later, Stanley had grabbed his coat and was headed towards the train station.

The spirits were troubled. Red-Claw sat alone in the lodge and the smoke from the fire was enveloping him. The heat was oppressive and his body was soaked with sweat. The visions were strange indeed. The elders told him that he must endure this catharsis of his soul. Only in this way could he purge himself of the white man's war in which he had served. Many in the tribe believed that he had been a fool to go, or worse, that his actions were an affront to the gods.

Red-Claw did not agree with them, but his family was far too important to him to prolong pointless arguments that could only result in rifts growing between them. If the war had taught him anything, it was that life was both brief and precious. Any of them could pass on at any time, and he did not wish that to happen with animosity between them.

Red-Claw had acquired many material things during his time away from the reservation, amongst the white man. Again, the elders felt it best that he relinquish it all. The only item which he steadfastly refused to give up was his receiver wrist- watch. He was not certain why. Certainly the cold reception the Canadian Shield had received upon returning home would not have given the impression that it would ever be needed again. They were given medals of honour in a very private ceremony by a pompous politician, and then they were loudly dismissed and quietly swept under the rug.

If Betsy had lived, perhaps they might have had the spirit to have argued the Prime Minister's directive, perhaps even to have actively opposed it by continuing to act together as a team. Given enough time and exposure, Ottawa would eventually have had no choice but to not only acknowledge their existence, but to condone their activities. But when Miss Steelwill was killed, so pointlessly, it had taken the fight right out of them. The war had ended. All that was left before they returned home was a patrol of occupied enemy territory. The Germans were defeated, the assignment should have been routine.

But no one had foreseen the arrival of the Overlord.

Dark Queen had stage-managed things quite admirably. Though a helpless prisoner of the invading Allied forces, she had well predicted the angered arrival of her former teacher when he learned of her destroying his wife's tomb. Overlord tried to kill her, but when Betsy tried to stop him, he killed Miss Steelwill instead.

Red-Claw's attention shifted back to the dying embers of the fire. Had he truly been sitting there so long? From outside, he heard a great number of voices raised in alarm, and something else, a strangely familiar sound. A beep.

It took Red-Claw only a few seconds to realize what the sound was, and by that time, although he knew that the elders would scowl in disapproval, he knew that despite everything that had happened, he must go to Ottawa as quick as he was able.

To all sides of him, he saw blue sky mingled with puffs of soft white clouds that seemed so tangible he felt that he could just reach outside the cockpit and take hold of them.

Of course, Shane Spencer knew that this was not only an impractical fancy, but also a potentially lethal one. The immense pressure at the altitude they were flying would not only kill him, but his young co-pilot as well.

As he flew high above a river valley at speeds that would astounded his instructors, Shane marvelled at the course his life had taken. From his meagre existence during the Great Depression to the chance encounter that led to him becoming a pilot in the Royal Canadian Air Force, but that was as nothing to the time he spent as the costumed adventurer known as Cat-Man who had become a member of the Canadian Shield. Those days were behind him now, he reminded himself, he had moved on. These days he was a test pilot for a revolutionary, top secret jet plane. Of course he didn't know everything about it, but what he did know was enough to tell him that it was big. Even the Americans seemed to be deeply interested.

Without warning, a loud beeping noise reverberated throughout the cabin. The co-pilot looked at Shane in alarm because he could not discern where the sound was coming from, though he thought it was coming from the instrumentation.

But naturally you have guessed that the sound originated from a wrist-watch worn by the former hero known as Cat-man. He too could never bring himself to dispose of a remainder of his past life nor even to keep it far from his person.

As the jet passed over a fair-sized settlement, Shane turned back to his co-pilot. "I'm setting her down," he said.

"Sir?" he asked worried1y.

"You should be able to get this bird back home in one piece, shouldn't you?"

"Well, yes, sir," the co-pilot stammered. "We can't land here. Our orders, sir. This craft is top secret. No one supposed to know anything about it." Shane looked at the young man sternly. "Either we land or I'm ejecting right here."

The co-pilot's alarm grew visibly. "But then I'll have to bail too!"

Shane smiled. He missed his Cat-Man mask because he knew he had a lousy poker face, but apparently it was good enough for the co-pilot.

"Setting down, sir."

"Don't feel so bad, kid." Shane mused. "If no one knows this thing exists, how can anyone know what it is?" He chuckled, maybe we'll pass for a flying saucer."

A day or so later in Ottawa, a strange assemblage of people had gathered in the office of the Prime Minister. Besides the ostentatious figure of the Prime Minister himself, there were three men in colourful tights. One in red, white and black with a stylized maple leaf emblazoned on his chest, another in black and white with the emblem of a feline and the third in a simpler design with red and blue.

The Prime Minister looked over Crusader, Cat-man and Red-Claw with close scrutiny. They looked little different then they had over a decade before when they had last been assembled by his predecessor, and for what has been thought the last time ever. To the heroes, it was clear that the man was embarrassed to have been forced to ask for their help and that he really did not want them there. But fortunately, it seemed he was more wise than proud, and that boded well. But it made the heroes more curious than ever to learn the reason why they had been called out of their forced retirement.

The Prime Minister cleared his throat. "No doubt you are all wondering why I sent for you, " he said stiffly. After letting the comment hang in the air for a few moments, he continued, "We have a small problem in the North-West territories. It.. is a sensitive matter that cannot be entrusted to the military or the RCMP. Before you ask, just know that we have our reasons.

"A prominent government scientist has disappeared. The know- ledge that he possesses, to say the least, is compromising to the security of this nation. He must be recovered."

Crusader spoke up, "Sir, do you believe that the Russians are involved in the disappearance of this man?"

The Prime Minister shook his head.

"Who then?"

It was obvious that the Prime Minister was uncomfortable, even skeptical of his own response. "Beings not of this world," he answered.

IN very short order, the Canadian Shield was outfitted with a copious supply of equipment they would need in the far flung northern regions of the country.

Of the three of them, only Red-Claw seemed untroubled by the Prime Minister's pronouncement of the nature of their antagonists. Despite all the adventures which they had already shared, in which they had borne witness to many strange and wonderful things, Crusader and Cat-Man were still very much grounded when it came to talk of alien or supernatural occurrences. Not only could Red-Claw believe in such things through his Indian upbringing, but he actually believed he had seen such things.

That is not to say that either Crusader or Cat-Man was intimidated by the prospect of facing such beings. Quite the opposite was true. Together again as a team in costume, they collectively felt that there was nothing they could not face. It was merely that they felt somewhat puzzled why they were chose to deal with the threat.

As their rail car rattled around a curve in the track, Cat-Man stated, "The only clear explanation that I can up with, is that they're trying to a avoid a military confrontation with the Ruskies. If their intelligence agency reported a northerly movement of military forces, they might suspect that Uncle Sam was staging a sneak attack by way of the pole."

"That's a possibility," Crusader conceded. "But it seems to me that the Prime Minister was much more concerned about this new threat then what the reaction of the Soviet Union might be. What do you think Red?" Red Claw looked up at them critically. "I think this whole squabble between the capitalist West and the communist East is not only ridiculous, but ultimately self-destructive. Why must the mighty white man spill blood over such petty matters as ideologies and resources which were never truly theirs in the first place?" At their silent disbelief he added, "or did you mean just this situation in particular?"

Crusader laughed. "I've really missed you my friend. I can always trust you to have a different perspective. A different point of view. I suppose it wouldn't matter one bit if Canada just up and became a communist nation overnight, would it?"

"There are some of my people who would say that things could hardly be any worse than they are now."