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Here we are with another exciting episode of Battle of the Planets. When a Spectran scientist develops a way to reverse G-Force's transmutation process with a giant icing nozzle, the team is placed in grave danger. Meanwhile, Colonel Cronus has a reverse face lift.
We open with the usual underwater view of Center Neptune, which Zark, in voice over, assures us is, "Far beneath the sea," despite the fact that the surface can clearly be seen in close proximity.
My good friends Larry, Curly and Moe the yellow headed orange reef fish, are nowhere to be seen, but some of their friends and relations are mooching around in the general vicinity.
Zark waffles on about how he, "constantly scans the universe for any sign of trouble from outer space, or any threat to Earth's security." The camera zooms in on Centre Neptune's midsection, just below the hangar decks, so maybe this gives us a clue as to where Nerve Center is actually located.
Or not.
It's interesting to note how Zark's activities are self-confessed as being Earth-centric, despite all his carrying on in various episodes about an Intergalactic Federation of Peaceful Planets and all his "Galactic-this," and "Universe-that." It's really all about the Auld Rock, when you get down to brass tacks.
"Of course," he adds, and we can see that the little Tin Toad is reclining in his ready room, wearing his nasty little Number Seven sweater -- and let's just ask ourselves for a moment, what kind of twisted individual would knit a Number Seven sweater for a robot? -- "all work and no play makes Zark a rusty robot!"
I hereby dare anyone going to Gatchacon to turn up in a Number Seven sweater. Go on. I dare you.
"So, I do get a ten second oil break now and then," Zark says. He applies some oil to his horrible little domed head and goes on about how it's just some domestic peanut oil he picked up on sale, but it hits the spot. Zark, shopping on e-Bay... There's a thought. What kind of buyer feedback would you give Zark? And here's another thought: I wonder what kind of electronic device tolerates peanut oil in its systems? Keep using the peanut oil, Zark. With any luck, it'll get right into those etched circuit boards.
1-Rover-1 yaps at Zark, who apologies for not being able to play with him right now, and exposits that he has to "turn on my monitor and look in on Planet Spectra." Rover yaps some more, and Zark asyouknowBobs back to him, "Why? Because our intelligence agents have learned that Zoltar has put his leading scientist, the evil Doctor Glock, to work, constructing another terrifying invention to be used against Earth! I'll zero in on this frequency," Zark says, and we are given a view of what happens when you cross a television test pattern with a beading loom. "It should pick up Doctor Glock's laboratory," Zark predicts.
Dr Glock, huh? Is he related to Dirty Harry's friends Smith and Wesson? Is there also a Dr Winchester, a Dr Ruger and a Dr Browning? Dear, oh, dearie me.
Now we see some intriguing artwork. The crew at Tatsunoko have been wielding the old airbrush with considerable skill, as always: There's some kind of metallic ring device with what appears to be a target upon which some beam weapon has been focussed. There's lots of mad-scientist type lightning and some billowing brownish-black smoke along with the sounds of the Foley artist earning his pay... possibly with a kazoo and a trained mosquito.
"I was right!" Zark exclaims. And now we'll have a very rare 'Previously, on Battle of the Planets' moment: the target appears to be a glowing pink footprint. "Remember when Zoltar recreated a complete image of Princess from her boot by using an atomic replicator? Doctor Glock is now working on an adaptation of that device for some new and terrible reason."
One of the things I really liked about BotP when I was a kid was the way it actually did refer back to previous episodes. Few, if any of the other animated childrens' series that I had seen at that time seemed to do that. (The Flintstones was an obvious exception, but that was prime time with a nod to adult viewers who watched The Honeymooners.) BotP was so cool that way. It had series continuity, and the producers apparently assumed that we, the viewers, had more than the attention span of a gnat! When you get right down to it, the real appeal was that BotP didn't 'talk down' to its audience, until Zark came on screen and that, I think, is what I hated about Zark. The producers appeared to be treating the audience as though we were intelligent, and then along would come Zark, and we were back to kindergarten again.
There's a shot of some lab equipment from above and through the devices mounted in the ceiling. Workers are clustered around a long work bench, at whose head a man with a shoulder-length mane of white hair is leaning forward.
We cut to a shot from inside the machine he's working on, and we get a look at his face. The mane of hair is part of a matching set -- it comes with beard, moustache and sideburns, and he has the obligatory villainous widow's peak and Mephistopholean eyebrows, so we know he's evil.
Also, Zark told us he was evil, and that his name is Dr Handgun -- er, Glock.
I wonder what he puts on his business cards?
The Evil Dr Handgun closes off the device, and now we get to see the Great Spirit of Spectra, otherwise known as the Giant Blue Chicken of Spectra.
Most of the chickens I've met have a slightly less calculating expression than the Luminous One, but some of the cockerels can look downright crafty. Especially the ones that turn and do that little posture change that shows off their spurs to full advantage.
"Why did you allow the underground city to be evacuated before the attack?" asks the Giant Blue Chicken.
Zoltar bows his head. "That was unfortunate," he says, and we can see that behind him and to his left, the Evil Dr Handgun is standing with what looks like an iron lung on a trolley. "Somehow, Earth's security forces anticipated our offensive, but Doctor Glock, here, has some good news for you."
"Yes," rasps the Evil Dr Handgun in a two-pack-a-day voice, "most radiant one." He bows from the shoulders.
"It is the masterpiece of his career!" Zoltar enthuses, and the Z-dude is making the full sales pitch, today. He's half turned toward the iron lung, hand outstretched to highlight the product. Phone within the next ten minutes and we'll include this handy sponge attachment for reaching those tricky places, and if you use your credit card, you'll also receive the handy destructo-matic, ABSOLUTELY FREE!
Evil Dr Handgun presses a big red button and the iron lung opens. There's a trumpet fanfare (in a minor key, of course, because they're all evil!) and the camera pans lovingly over a large... pink...
Icing nozzle.
Of Doom.
Obviously.
"It is beautiful to look upon," says the Giant Blue Chicken, who is clearly brooding some dark and sinister plot to take out the Galactic Cake Decorating Championships this year and beat those snooty bastards from Planet Zog who think they're so bloody clever with their cutesy little sugar roses and lacework. "But does it do what I have demanded?" I'm with you on this one, Chicken God dude, you can't take any chances with the Galactic Cake Decorating Championships. It's got to be able to do frangipanis and fancy scriptwork or the deal is off.
"It is a triumph," Zoltar declares, anticipating the look on the judges' faces when Planet Spectra brings home the blue ribbon for its fifteen tier exploding fruit cake with fondant missile launchers and little sugar bullets.
"If its rays are projected upon the members of the G-Force team," Evil Dr Handgun exposits, "the transmutation process will be reversed."
And the light reflects silkily off the gleaming... pink... surface of the Icing Nozzle of Doom, so we just know it's going to be ugly for someone.
"Splendid! Splendid!" exclaims the Giant Blue Chicken, and if it had hands, I'm sure it would be reaching for its wallet at this point to call now and receive the free steak knives.
"Thank you," says Zoltar, "I'm so happy," he adds, about as convincingly as a shopping channel co-host. "Go on," he urges. "Tell him more." This is such a fantastic product. Every household should have one, and at this price, why not buy two? Go on, call now!
"In the laboratory," says Evil Dr Handgun, looking a lot like Christopher Lee's interpretation of Saruman from Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings film trilogy, "this weapon is effective beyond our expectations," and the camera begins to zoom in on his face as he continues, "but the final test will come when it is used against one of the members of the G-Force team. Then, and only then can we know if it is completely successful."
"At last!" the Giant Blue Chicken gloats, "we have the ultimate weapon to use against G-Force! "It must be put to the test at once!" The Luminous One's eyes narrow even further. "See to it!"
Zoltar makes a courtly bow to the Giant Blue Chicken God, and it's interesting to note that he's not wearing any lipstick in this shot, although he was in the previous frames. Maybe he wiped it off quick so that he can go and make out with Evil Dr Handgun after their successful sales presentation.
There's a quick cut to the right front tyre of a fast moving vehicle, which is accompanied by some cheerful marching music! No, it's not an episode of Speed Racer, it's Jason in the civilian version of the G-2, racing against some other guys who aren't in the G-2.
Jason's racing helmet looks a lot like his G-Force helmet. Coincidence? I don't think so. Cute. Despite the cheery, happy, jolly-hockey-sticks music (which sounds like it belongs in an old black and white Cicely Courtenidge musical from the 1930s) our Jason is looking quite grim and focussed. Maybe he's listening to U2 on his iPod -- I'm sure I would be, given the choice. (Nothing against Cicely Courtenidge, mind, I just prefer U2.)
"Mark is out at the racetrack," Zark narrates -- and I love how the footage so far is of Jason, but Zark has to be all about Mark -- "and I've got to reach him to round up G-Force!"
We see Mark lounging against a low wall in what is, I suspect, meant to be pit lane. Princess is on the other side of the wall, leaning forward with her arms resting on the top of the wall, next to a large metal tank marked, 'Gas.'
Keyop is perched atop a stack of tyres, while Tiny is standing next to him, arms folded, seemingly intent on the race. Behind Tiny, where you'd have to climb over the wall, past the gas tank to get to the corner where it's hanging, is a medium-sized red fire extinguisher. From its lack of markings, I'd hazard a guess that it's a water-filled extinguisher... in an inaccessible corner... next to a fuel tank...
Nobody, but nobody light a match, okay?
Keyop is waving a small fist in the air, barracking for Jason. "Push it, Jason!" he chirps. "Show 'em your dust -- whoops!" At this point, he overbalances, and in the finest conventions of comedy relief, falls down the middle of the tyre stack.
Tiny regards his fallen teammate impassively. "Racing is dangerous," he observes sagely, as Keyop clambers back up to the top, apparently none the worse for wear.
So, hey, Zark, the gang's all here, but you have to reach Mark to round them all up. Fine, Zark, you just follow your natty little procedures while the rest of the galaxy gets on with it.
Back on the race track, Jason has another car in his sights and is pushing the G-2 around a tight bend. The jolly-hockey-sticks music has been replaced with something that has more of a disco beat and a fair bit of bass, providing dramatic impetus. The stands are full, and the field is visible as a cloud of dust billowing down the home stretch, of which, incredibly, pit lane appears to be an integral part. G-Force is in Bay 10, for those who like to take note of such things. Princess is now in front of the wall, next to Tiny, who declares, "He can't lose! He's got it in the bag!"
"Don't cheer 'til you see the chequered flag," Princess warns, sounding more like Judy Jetson than like Princess, today.
Jason checks his rear view mirrors and is pleased. "Boy," he says, "I've got 'em goin', now." It seems he's spoken too soon, however, as his communicator sounds with a sharp pinging sound. "Uh-oh," Jason says, and it's Mark on the line.
"Jason," Mark says, "you've got to drop out of the race."
"What are you saying?" Jason protests. "I've got this race in my pocket!"
"Get back to Neptune Center," Mark insists. "Urgent!"
Jason raises his wrist, bringing the communicator closer to his mouth and taking his left hand off the wheel at very high speed. Don't try this at home, kids. "It's only a few seconds more! I'm not gonna stop now!"
Mark plays his trump card: "You wouldn't go against Anderson's orders, would you?" he challenges.
It has little effect, because Jason isn't buying it. "Man, give me a break, would you? I'll be there as soon as the race is over!" He turns his attention -- quite wisely, given his velocity -- back to the track.
Mark is left standing in the pit, wondering what to do. Keyop, still perched on the tyres, attempts a conciliatory gesture. "A few minutes?" he pleads.
"An order is an order," Mark says, clearly miffed. "A few minutes can make a lot of difference. The Chief won't like this." Way to reinforce your leadership, Chicken Boy.
"If we're all late, he'll like it even less," Princess warns.
"Poor Jason," Keyop says into his communicator, presumably so that Jason will know he has Keyop's sympathy. "Wait!" he calls as the other three rush off. "Coming!" He bounces off the tyres, upsetting the stack, and races away.
Jason remains focussed on the race. "Okay," he says to himself, "let's get this race over so I can get outta here, and give the Chief the trophy."
So, it seems Chief Anderson isn't Jason's favourite person, right now.
Jason floors the accelerator pedal, the throttle opens, and the G-2 pulls away from the rest of the field. The race commentator declares that Number Two is the 'sure winner' and confirms that Jason has won the race.
The crowd cheer, and the field comes to a halt. Jason hangs his head in relief. "Whew!" he breathes, "what a race. Now to face Chief Anderson." He revs the motor, turns the car around and weaves back through the field. There are still cars finishing the race, but Jason simply uses one of them as a ramp, driving clean over the top of it, as the spectators scream in alarm. Jason's car jumps the wall and negotiates a steep rocky decline on the other side. He levels out on a wide dirt road and keeps going.
Wow, those all-wheel-drive models really are tough, aren't they?
Jason pulls up on the dirt track. "I gotta move faster," he decides. "I better transmute." He brings his left arm up in a sweeping motion, gives the command, and transmutes.
A cathode ray tube shows an oscillating display, and we hear a voice say, "Zoltar, I'm picking up a signal on the radar scanners, but I can't tell for sure what it is!"
The camera pulls back to reveal Zoltar standing between two seated goons, studying the 'radar scanner.'
"Could it be a G-Force vehicle?" Zoltar wonders aloud (he pronounces it vee-hickle, which is kind of cute.) He leans over and activates a tele-comm channel. A goon appears on the screen, and hey, check it out! It's got the corners lobbed off, just like on Battlestar Galactica! There really is nothing new under the sun, is there? "A G-Force vehicle is in your sector," he tells the goon. "After it!" The goon salutes dutifully. "And when you find it," Zoltar says, "you know what to do!" Zoltar then starts with the obligatory Evil Laughter.
Because he's evil.
We see the transmuted G-2 screaming along a road. It's a rather pointy car. It has all the pointy bits that the friendly little G-1 lacks. Where the G-1 is polite, the G-2 puts its feet up on the table, doesn't comb its hair and smokes in the house. This is a car that goes places because its driver expects everyone else to get the hell out of his way.
The G-2 is not a friendly vee-hickle. Even the tyres are striking sparks off the road, and that's not an easy thing to achieve with tyre compound. Not unless you're running on the belts, anyway, in which case the maintenance team at Center Neptune may well need a stern talking-to.
Jason isn't looking particularly friendly, either. He is not enjoying himself, because as we may infer from previous conversations, where Jason is going, when he gets there, Chief Anderson is going to happen to him.
Two vehicles loom up behind and to the left of the G-2. They're pretty bulbous and weird-looking, like a cross between a food-processor and a Volkswagen Beetle.
"I don't like the looks of those cars," Jason says. Me neither. No flair, and those paint jobs... what were they thinking?
We see a goon behind the wheel of one of the Spectra food processor Beetles. In lieu of the usual green headgear, this guy is wearing some natty blue and red millinery, possibly indicative of rank. Or something. "A G-Force car is just ahead of us on the road," the goon says.
He is speaking to Zoltar via tele-comm. "Formate on him," Zoltar orders. "Don't let him get away!"
"I understand, sire," the goon says, and the two food processor Beetles close in.
The two Spectra vehicles, one large, orange and bulbous, the other smaller, blue and bulbous but with a pointier nose, pull up on either side of the G-2 and close the gap. Caught between them, Jason struggles to control the jostling. "I'm trapped!" he observes.
The screen fades to black for a station break!
After the station break, we see that Jason is heading straight for a large orange bulldozer! Breaking a good many laws of physics, Jason accelerates, and rather than plough disastrously into the bucket as you might expect from anyone who didn't have a note excusing them from the laws of physics, he uses the bucket as another impromptu ramp and drives over the top, clears the safety railing and careens down the embankment on the other side.
The blue Spectra vehicle, whose driver clearly does not have a note excusing him from the laws of physics, does plough disastrously into the bucket, impacts with the bulldozer proper, and promptly explodes in full accordance with not only the laws of physics, but also those of narrative impetus.
But wait, there's more.
Three more of those cars, anyway, and they follow Jason down the slope.
Jason sees solid rock looming up and is obliged to brake. He's caught in a box canyon, and the pursuit cars pull up behind him, blocking his escape.
The big orange car pulls up last and a hatch opens, revealing the pink Icing Nozzle of Doom. The Spectran commander lines up the G-2 in his cross hairs, and squeezes the trigger.
A turquoise ray (possibly with a hint of Prussian blue in there, for those who like to be specific about these things) arcs out of the Icing Nozzle of Doom, and strikes the G-2. Lightning dances crazily over the car's surface, and the transmutation process reverses!
Just as Evil Dr Handgun said it would.
Boy, if Jason thought he was in trouble before, it's time to reassess the way he thinks of trouble.
Only, Jason isn't in the car. He's watching from above, still in his G-Force gear, unseen by the Spectrans, who are clustering around the car, gloating.
"When Zoltar learns how well the ray gun works," the commander says, "I'll be promoted on the spot! Now let's see what our prisoner looks like!"
"Then it might be a good idea if you looked up here," suggests a voice from above them, and reflexively, they do. It's Jason of course, standing on a ridge atop the canyon wall, and he's a tad annoyed.
"He's up there!" exclaims one of the goons in a flash of observational brilliance. He points in Jason's direction. "Get him!" he orders.
"Stand still, Earthling!" growls the commander, who obviously isn't aware of Jason's reputation for ignoring orders if he thinks they're going to be counter productive to a positive outcome. He aims the Icing Nozzle of Doom at Jason, who is obligingly standing still -- for now -- and fires.
At the last moment, Jason leaps, but the ray catches his trailing left foot, and it looks like this is going to be a problem.
Jason is caught in mid-leap, seemingly suspended in mid-air, before gravity glances up from the back-issue of Popular Science that it was reading and realises that he's there. Jason falls backward and disappears behind the ridge he was standing on.
"We've downed the Earthling, sire," the commander reports to Zoltar.
"I am delighted with the way things are going," Zoltar says, and his body language, with both fists raised, clenched and shaking, gives the lie to his apparent delight. "Bring the G-Force nuisance back to our headquarters."
Suddenly -- and quite unexpectedly -- Evil Dr Handgun interrupts! He pushes -- actually pushes -- Zoltar aside and protests, "No! There's no time for that! Adjustments to the ray gun must be made without delay."
Oh, bad move, Dr Handgun.
Zoltar draws himself up in much the same way as a large owl will do if you walk up to it without paying all due homage beforehand, and in a manner not unlike the way said owl will flatten its feathers and pull its whiskers back to reveal a very large, powerful, and above all, potentially hurtful hooked bill, Zoltar bares his teeth and focusses a baleful green stare on the doctor. "Leave the prisoner behind," Zoltar snarls. "Return at once!"
And you just know that while Zoltar's making a real effort to be sensible about this, given the stakes, once he has G-Force in his clutches, Dr Handgun's life expectancy is going to take a sudden dive into very small numbers.
"It is as you wish, sire," says the commander, clearly disappointed, and the three cars depart in a squeal of tyres, which is interesting, given that they're on a dirt road.
The camera swings up to reveal Jason, pained and shaking, dragging himself back up to the top of the ridge. He's still in his G-Force combat gear, but when he looks down at his left leg, he sees that his boot and leggings are changing back to a shoe and the lower leg of his jeans, leaving the rest of his uniform intact.
Jason stares, appalled. "I've been de-transmuted!" he observes.
We cut back to Center Neptune, where there appears to be a fish convention happening.
Chief Anderson is briefing the rest of G-Force, and... is he having a bad hair day? Is that just a perspective botch, or is he going for the Einstein look? Conditioner, Chief. You can't get away with not using conditioner. "Even though it was evacuated before Spectra's attack," Anderson is saying, "Zark's long range detectors indicate that there are still signs of life in our subterranean city of Lulo." The camera angle changes and, okay, it was just the perspective. That frizz control stuff still works, then. "You're to check for survivors," he tells them.
"I was sure Jason'd be here by now," Mark says, changing the subject. "I don't like to leave without him."
"There must be a very good reason why Jason isn't back," Princess adds.
"Like what?" Mark challenges.
Princess hangs her head, embarrassed about being put on the spot -- and here she thought Mark was on her side. "Jason's always been independent, but I'm sure G-Force means a lot to him."
Anderson is staring out the window, as he's wont to do when something's bothering him. He glances back over his shoulder. "You're a good friend to stick up for Jason, Princess," he says, "but you can't ignore the fact that he isn't here when we need him. You'll have to leave right now." The camera pans across the room, showing, Tiny, Mark and Keyop looking solemn, while Princess looks distraught. "Good luck," Anderson tells them, and his tone suggests that they're going to need it.
The team salute with a cry of "G-Force!" and run from the room.
Anderson stands with one hand behind his back, staring out at the fish.
The Phoenix leaves her undersea hangar and heads for the surface. She angles out of the water and grabs a fistful of sky before levelling out at altitude, among the cumulonimbus tops. The artists have done a nice job on the clouds. Clouds are a lot harder to depict than you might think, especially the edges. These guys do decent clouds.
We cut back to Anderson's office, and a weary Jason puts his feet across the threshold.
He stands there, neither in nor out, but with his feet actually in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
Jason is standing on a boundary, in no-man's land. Anderson is at the window, also close to a boundary. The two men, elder and younger, are at opposite ends of the room, both at edges, standing at their own personal little brinks, window and doorway.
I find it interesting that Jason doesn't fully enter the room, but stands there on that boundary. He could step in or he could step out. He's come this far, but he stays there, as though after everything he's been through to get here, he can't take the final step to be fully in the room, where his duty demands that he be.
Anderson is unimpressed. "So," he says, his tone suggesting that he is, indeed, about to happen to Jason, "where've you been?" I wouldn't like to have that question asked of me in that tone of voice. There are knives in there, along with a clear implication that it's highly unlikely that there's any answer to the question that could qualify as a right one. It's so parental, it's scary. Anderson knows exactly what space he's in, and he fills it. Maybe that's why Jason can't come in to the room. Maybe there's only room for one of them in this one horse universe. "And this better be good," Anderson adds, just in case nobody was picking up on any of the subvocal stuff, which can probably happen if you spend too much time with Zark because your brain just shuts down in self defence.
Jason is clearly picking up on the subvocal stuff, and he reacts like a teenager, which makes a lot of sense, because that's exactly what he is: he turns sullen. "What good will it do to say anything?" Jason demands. "You've already judged me guilty." Oh, the angst!
Anderson turns from the window, and everything about him suggests that there's a high likelihood of Jason being grounded until he turns thirty. "Just give me your explanation." Anderson lunges forward, hands on the desk. He's keeping the voice under control, but it's clear that this is one very angry individual.
"I had a little run-in with some of Zoltar's men, that's what made me late," Jason says.
Anderson isn't buying. "Jason, your real excuse is that you were in a race."
"I knew you wouldn't believe me, but it's true," Jason says. "They used a kind of force ray I've never seen before." Suddenly, he goes from sulky adolescent to professional, and if nothing else, this should tell Anderson volumes about the veracity of the story. He moves forward. He doesn't step in to the room but leans in, like he's making that choice to cross the line and go from being teenaged rebel without a clue to a member of Galaxy Security's premier strike force. "A ray that knocked me out of transmutation and left me powerless!"
"A force ray?" Anderson is horrified, his earlier anger forgotten.
At this point, I'd probably have a few more pointed questions for Jason, such as, 'Why did you not call this in using your convenient and compact wrist communicator as soon as you could?' and 'Why did you not call for backup?' and 'Why did you not report the location of the enemy so we could send other troops after them?' and while we're at it, here's one for Zark: 'Where the hell were you with your jargoniffic omniscient bloody scan-o-matic devices when you were really needed, short stuff?'
We now cut to a hole in the ground. There's a plume of black smoke billowing out through the entrance to the pit, and Zark narrates for us. This is what happens to naughty children. "The underground city of Lulo was named for the first President of the Intergalactic Council. It's one of the finest examples of subterranean planning on Earth." The camera descends down a shaft and we see one of the finest examples of subterranean planning on Earth with its dome broken and the black smoke billowing out through the hole. Interestingly, the smoke doesn't fill the available space in and around the dome the way most smoke would, it just keeps rising and goes up through the shaft. Maybe it's trained smoke. "But," Zark continues, "I suppose I should say 'was,' because Zoltar's attack has put it to ruin."
We see the city, desolate and broken beneath its shattered dome. The Phoenix is parked on a shallow rocky slope. "G-Force," Zark continues, "has come to search the ruins for anyone left behind, and I have no doubt they'll find someone."
He doesn't have to add, 'but who?' because we all know that they'll find the bad guys.
Tiny, Keyop, Princess and Mark are standing outside the command ship, surveying what's left of the city. Mark is appalled: "Can you believe this?" he breathes.
Princess bends and picks up a tattered, soot-stained doll. "Some child left this behind," she says, and the doll crumbles in her hands. "Isn't it sad?" she hangs her head as though on the verge of tears while Keyop shakes a fist.
"That Zoltar!" the boy blusters angrily.
"Let's forget it for now," says Tiny, the sensible one. "We got work to do."
"You're right, Tiny," Princess agrees. She raises one finger to her face as though having a blonde moment. "The important thing is to look for survivors."
Princess has now demonstrated that she is capable of remembering their primary mission objective within five whole minutes of arriving at ground zero. Whatever will she manage, next?
"I suggest we split up," she says, as her brain remembers what it's for and switches itself back on, "and use our personnel infra-detectors." She flips open the face of her wrist device, takes a chip out of a belt compartment, and inserts it in the bracelet. It starts beeping, and a little red LED flashes on and off.
"Okay, everybody," Mark says, his wrist raised to show that he's done likewise with his own bracelet. "Let's get going, and don't take chances!"
"G-Force!" the others respond, and they all scatter.
So G-Force have been assigned to run a Search and Rescue mission. Search and Rescue. Like they haven't got anything better to do. I mean, forget all the specialised units with the equipment and the medical gear, let's send a crack commando unit on a SAR mission into friendly territory.
Right.
'Scuse me, that's just such a dumb stupid concept, I'm just going to go and bang my head against a wall for a minute.
While I'm doing that, why don't you check out today's Recipe of the Episode?
SHADY'S AMAZING FESTIVE FRUIT CAKE
1kg (2lb) mixed dried fruit
50g (1½ oz) glacé cherries
100g (3½ oz) blanched almonds
2 cups sherry
250g (½lb) butter
1 cup sugar
2 tsp vanilla extract
½ tsp almond essence
½ tsp lemon essence
4 eggs
2 cups plain flour
¼ tsp ground nutmeg
½ tsp ground ginger
½ tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground cloves
At least one day before, combine all fruit, almonds and sherry in a bowl. Refrigerate so that the fruit can absorb the liquor.
On the day of cooking, line two 20cm (8") cake tins with non stick baking paper. Preheat oven to 300°F / 150°C.
Sift together flour and spices. Set aside.
Cream butter, sugar and essences. Add the eggs one at a time to the butter mix, beating well after each addition.
Add alternate quantities of the fruit and flour mixes, blending well. The mixture should be stiff enough to support a wooden spoon. Place the cake mixture into prepared tins and bake for 3 ½ - 4 hours (3 hours in a fan-forced oven).
Allow to cool before removing from tins. Remove baking paper. Sprinkle the cakes with sherry or brandy, then wrap tightly in foil and return to the tins for storage. Over six to eight weeks, take the cakes out once a week, sprinkle each one with more sherry or brandy, then wrap and store again. After this time, the cakes will be extremely rich and moist.
The comment I get most about this cake is, "I don't usually like fruit cake, but this is good!"
The G-2 is racing along a road. Jason's looking just as grim as before (largely because it's the same footage, but don't tell anyone!) and is thinking grim thoughts. G-Force is heading right into a trap! I hope I'm not too late.
"Jason may be right," Zark narrates, as we watch Princess, Keyop, Tiny and Mark walking through the devastation of Lulo, "but only time will tell."
Now we cut back to Nerve Center. And don't I wish we wouldn't?
"If a robot can ever get a case of nerves, I've got one now," Zark says. "Every sensor in my superstructure tells me that Jason's supicions are right, and G-Force is walking into Zoltar's trap! And I can't reach them," he laments.
This is like what J Michael Straczynski said about the speed of the space ships on Babylon 5: they travel "at the speed of plot." Likewise, Zark's systems are only as omniscient as the plot will allow.
1-Rover-1 yaps at Zark for a bit. The robot turns to him. "You think you could capture Zoltar, 1-Rover-1? Well, I bet you could give him a couple of good bites, but our main problem right now is that G-Force put anti-detection adaptors in their wrist activators, making it impossible for me to contact them by radio." And, like, dude, you couldn't have called them before they did this? Besides which, radio waves are blocked by rock formations, you cybernetic numbskull. "I'm trying all our emergency channels, and no luck so far, but I'll keep trying until I get through to them!"
Mark is walking along a footpath. The paving slaps are cracked and lifted, and the music is turning ominous. The pitch of his detecto-matic changes, and he pauses, turning to try to get a fix on the signal. His attention focusses on what looks like a derelict hotel across the street, and he heads toward it.
Inside, he finds a room, and through a damaged doorway, he sees a hand, working an old-fashioned Morse key. Mark kicks the door open and lunges inside, sonic boomerang at the ready. the hand working the key belongs to a woman holding an infant. She is thin and drawn. When she speaks, her voice seems thin and drawn, as well. "Oh," she says, "help at last!"
"What are you doing here?" Mark asks her, and the camera angle shows us that the 'baby' in the woman's arms is in fact a doll. "Why weren't you evacuated?"
The woman chokes back a sob. "Somehow," she snivels, "we were left behind." She's on her feet, now, tenderly cradling the doll as she totters toward Mark. Her knees give way, she moans and pitches forward. Mark catches her and eases her down to the floor, all horrified compassion.
"Are you alone, here?" he asks her gently, hands on her shoulders. "Are there any others?"
The woman looks wretched. "No," she says, "I don't think so. I haven't seen anyone." She begins to weep. "Oh, I've been so frightened!" She raises the 'child' in her arms. "My poor baby!" She turns away and cries in earnest.
Mark hangs his head in sorrow. The woman continues to sob, then suddenly, she leaps to her feet and runs. Mark follows. "Hey! Come back! Please!" He races down the stairs, leaps to the lobby floor and runs out into the street. He continues running, to find the woman on her knees in a cemetery. He approaches her. "Please," he says. "Don't be frightened of me. I only want to help. Your baby needs food," he reasons.
Mark bends toward the woman, and sees that the 'baby' is lying on the ground, its painted face turned upward.
The 'woman' turns to him, grinning. "Would you like to play with my baby?" 'she' asks, in Zoltar's voice.
"Oh, no, not you!" Mark groans, and it's Zoltar, in all his purple glory, who rises to his feet before him, laughing his evil villain laugh.
I wonder if he has to practice that, you know, like scales? Do evil villains have to practice laughing for twenty minutes a day, three times a week, to make sure they get pitch, volume and resonance?
"We meet again," Zoltar gloats, and signals his men. "Surround him!" Zoltar orders.
Those ugly cars rise up out of the cemetery like incredibly un-cool vampires with no sense of style at all. Chief among them is the big orange car that houses the Icing Nozzle of Doom.
Mark stands motionless, seemingly calculating his chances.
"Use the anti-transmute ray on him!" Zoltar snarls.
Mark springs skyward and throws his sonic boomerang at Zoltar, who leaps out of the way just in time. The boomerang bounces off the surface of the vehicle behind him. Zoltar leaps up to the cockpit of the orange car and hurls the operator out. He jumps inside and takes over the controls himself.
He takes aim and fires, catching Mark square in the back, mid-leap.
Mark plummets like a stone, head first into the rubble below.
"On target!" Zoltar reports gleefully as Mark falls.
Mark hits the dirt, unconscious, and is de-transmuted back to civilian mode.
Two shadows fall across his prone form, but regular viewers will know from the shape of those shadows that they're not Spectran.
We cut back to Princess and Keyop, who are still searching for survivors.
Princess and Keyop detect a signal coming from a TV van. Princess holds her bracelet up close to the rear doors. "D'you think there could be someone in this truck?" she asks Keyop.
"Good luck," Keyop stutters, and pulls open the doors.
The truck is full of goons, pointing the pointy ends of assault rifles at them.
Keyop gives a cry of dismay. "Mistake!" he exclaims, and throws his arms around Princess.
Well... look on the bright side. There was someone in the truck.
"We just caught two more, sire," reports a goon, using a comm channel from the truck's console. "They seem to be all over the place!"
"That is all well and good," Zoltar says from the command vee-hickle/food processor Beetle, "but what happened to the one we used the ray on? Where is he?" he demands, addressing this last to the goon standing just outside the food processor Beetle.
"He seems to have disappeared into thin air," says the goon, unhelpfully.
Disappeared into thin air?" Zoltar echoes derisively. "Bah! It's hopeless! I am surrounded by fools! I want that man found, and now! Do you understand?"
We have some swirly colours and some psychedelic music, through which a shadowy -- yet very familiar -- figure can be discerned. It's spinning.
It would seem that Mark is waking up.
As expected by regular viewers of the show, the shadowy figure resolves itself into one of the Rigan Red Rangers.
"Mark," the Ranger says, "can you hear me?"
Mark opens his eyes and sits up in a bed, where he's been tucked in all cozy. "Cronus, it's you!" he exclaims, but that's not Cronus. The face is all wrong, the nose and lips too fleshy. It's Cronus' wingman, easily recognisable from previous episodes, but for today, it seems his secret identity is safe.
Okay, we have to accept that it's Cronus.
Even though it clearly isn't.
All right, here goes: ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, polar bears and owls, pree-senting, that master of death defying death defiance, direct from Planet Riga, Colonel proof-that-there-really-is-life-after-death Cronus!
I suppose we could always say that he had surgery. Like, sort of, an inverse face lift... A face plummet, maybe. He's even got a beard.
Aargh!
Okay, so, [deep breath] "Cronus, it's you!"
"Take your time, my friend," says Colonel I-wouldn't-recommend-my-plastic-surgeon-to-anyone Cronus
"The others," Mark says. "Where are they?"
"Zoltar's captured them," Cronus says, "but this place is crawling with his men. We set out for Lulo as soon as we got Chief Anderson's call, but it was too late."
"Zoltar's a madman, Cronus," Mark says, his voice catching with concern. "We've got to get them out of here!"
"Before you do anything," Cronus cautions, "you're to contact Chief Anderson. It's very important."
"I'll call him now," Mark says. He activates his wrist communicator. "G-Force Commander calling Center Neptune," he says, and the comm unit blinks and beeps.
"Anderson, here," the Chief says. "Mark, I've got some good news."
"We sure could use some," Mark says. "What is it, Chief?"
"The energy field of the ray gun can be reversed," Anderson announces -- it looks like someone's been reading -- and analysing -- all those intel reports of Zark's, "and the beauty of it is that Zoltar himself can be tricked into doing it."
"Sounds good," Mark says. "Fill me in, Chief."
"It's simple," Anderson says, and the air conditioning must be on the blink at Center Neptune because he's worked up a bit of a sweat. "Push the ray force into the ultrasynch range and it will blow up!" Gads! Why didn't we think of that?
"I'll get on it, Chief," Mark promises. "Right away. Over and out."
Mark flings off the covers and jumps out of the bed (he's wearing his shoes) and Cronus puts a hand on his shoulder. "Remember, Mark," Cronus says, "we'll be around to help if you need us."
He probably has time, too, because it can take ages to bring a malpractice suit against your plastic surgeon.
Tiny, Princess and Keyop have been painstakingly chained to posts so that Zoltar can gloat before he uses his secret weapon on them.
He does the obligatory evil laughter thing. "Soon, dear friends, you will be G-Force no longer," he gloats. "You will then be powerless to thwart my plans!"
They look relatively powerless now, actually, but that's probably beside the point, right?
"Prepare to fire!" Zoltar orders, and the goon manning the Icing Nozzle of Doom sniggers. He obviously hasn't graduated to Evil Villain Laughter, yet, so he must content himself with Perfidious Sidekick Sniggering.
A feather dart slices through the air and severs several of the shackles holding Zoltar's captives.
"I think I got here just in time," Jason remarks, flourishing his gun.
Keyop burbles happily. "Say that again!" he declares.
The goon operating the Icing Nozzle of Doom must have got the flick again from Zoltar, because the Z-dude is back in the command chair and he fires the Icing Nozzle at the group.
None of them appear to have the presence of mind to get out of the way, so Jason is obliged to leap in front of the beam to sweep them all before him. His momentum carries them all over a handy embankment, and the Icing Nozzle's beam misses them.
Keyop is obliged, thanks to a clause in his narrative causality contract, to stick his head back up and make a face at Zoltar. Under the same clause, a gloved hand grabs his face and hauls him back out of the way as the beam strikes -- and misses -- again.
Zoltar is annoyed. "They're slippery as eels!" he complains, which is an old Spectran saying.
Zoltar drives the Icing Nozzle-mobile forward to where four fifths of G-Force are huddled, seemingly incapable of doing anything except huddling. Zoltar indulges in a little more villainous laughter. "It is only a matter of time, and I have all the time in the world!" he says.
The Icing Nozzle of Doom appears over the top of the embankment. It looks like G-Force are in trouble!
The music changes and Zoltar, warned by the musical shift, glances up and to his left. Explosions detonate immediately behind and in front of the Icing Nozzle-mobile and Zoltar is relatively unfazed by this. He seems more irritated than alarmed. "Is there never any rest for the weary?" he demands.
The culprit is none other than a Rigan Red Ranger jet, taxiing along one of the broken and deserted streets. Don't ask me how it got in there. Perhaps they brought it on a truck.
The jet taxis right up to the Spectrans, and the goons form a loose semicircle in front of it. It doesn't seem to occur to either party that whoever opens fire first is going to win this fight.
The jet's canopy pops open, and the pilot stands up... right in the enemy's line of fire. This is fantastic for dramatic effect, but possibly a really dumb idea from a tactical point of view. The upper part of the pilot's face is covered by the usual black mirrored visor, and the lower half is covered with a black scarf, but Zoltar reckons he's got the guy's number.
"To what do we owe this honour, Colonel Cronus?" Zoltar sneers, giving all his 'r's a thorough workout.
The pilot jumps and performs a very nice gymnastic flip, during which he brings his left arm around in a familiar-looking gesture. The red uniform shreds, and when the pilot touches down, it isn't Cronus at all but Mark (as if you hadn't guessed already) in full G-Force fig.
The rest of the team peers up over the sheltering embankment and Jason says, "Right on time, old buddy."
And you can just go easy on the 'old,' there, sonny.
"I'll say," Keyop agrees.
Zoltar is incensed. "Get him this time!" he orders his troops, "or you'll pay for it!" Mark leaps on to a fallen light pole, and from there to the roof of a nearby building, and Zoltar takes aim with the Icing Nozzle of Doom. "Why can't those bumbling fools stop him?" Zoltar grumbles, curling his lip. Jason, Princess, Keyop and Tiny join their leader and stand in full view of the Icing Nozzle. "This is too good to be true!" Zoltar says. "All of them together!"
"Team," Mark says, "let's give them the full treatment."
The full treatment is apparently quite the little acrobatic and aerobatic display.
G-Force leap, tumble and float like a Cirque de Soleil act, while Zoltar struggles to aim the Icing Nozzle of Doom. Sweat runs down Zoltar's face, and he clenches teeth and hands trying to get a targeting lock on five targets that won't keep still.
"Fools! I'll get you yet!" he vows.
He fires, and misses. He keeps the triggers depressed, and the Icing Nozzle continues to fire.
Zoltar's tele-comm screen activates. It's Evil Dr Handgun, who is getting his scientific knickers in a knot. "Zoltar, I beg of you, use caution! You're pushing the ray force too hard!"
At this point, Zoltar has had enough of Dr Handgun's presumption. "How dare you interrupt me at such a time as this!" he snarls. Dr Handgun has a point, though. A safety indicator on the Icing Nozzle's console is creeping in to the red, just as Chief Anderson predicted it would. I'll bet Zark takes the credit later in the episode, though.
The Icing Nozzle of Doom starts to overheat and energy arcs along the barrel. Things don't look good for Spectra's chances of joining the big league in the Galactic Cake Decorating Championships this year. I suspect the Giant Blue Chicken is going to be quite disappointed about that.
"You've taken it up into the ultrasynch range!" Dr Handgun cries in alarm. "I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen!"
The tele-comm screen explodes at this point, cutting the conversation short. The barrel of the Icing Nozzle of Doom follows suit.
The food processor Beetle vee-hickle, however, is well armoured, and only appears to suffer a cracked cockpit dome. "Time to go!" Zoltar declares, and his chair sinks into the body of the car, which promptly falls down, goes, 'Boom!'
"Good riddance!" Mark declares.
"Hooray!" Jason agrees.
"End of ol' Zoltar!" Keyop says, exultant.
Princess is more sceptical, however. "Maybe," she hedges.
"Don't bet on it," Tiny says.
Inside the burning car, we see Zoltar struggling with something, then there's an Earth-shattering 'kaboom!' and for a moment, it looks like Keyop may have been right, but then, out of the flames, a small escape craft emerges, fleeing the destruction.
"Zoltar's getting away again," Mark says.
"Back to Spectra," Jason sighs.
"'Til next time," Mark says.
Zoltar doesn't go unchallenged, however. Two Rigan jets fly up out of the ruined city and follow in hot pursuit.
"Zoltar always falls on his feet, like a cat," Mark says. "But one day, he'll miss, and there's still a chance Cronus'll catch him this time."
Jason tosses Mark a red helmet -- the one he'd borrowed earlier for his little masquerade performance. "Hold this 'til Cronus gets back," Jason says. Mark catches it and gazes at it contemplatively.
"Mark will take good care of that hat," Zark predicts sagely, "the hat of a brave man, who saved his life."
And who, at this moment, having lent his now-shredded uniform to Mark is presumably chasing Zoltar in his underwear.
Zark continues burbling. "As G-Force sadly takes a last look at the destroyed super-city, each member makes a silent vow, that Zoltar will never again wreak his evil destruction on Earth, and I certainly join them in that." We now cut back to Nerve Center, where Zark is talking with 1-Rover-1. "I'm glad G-Force was able to reverse the force of the anti-transmute ray. That really saved the day! But I can't help worrying about Jason."
1-Rover-1 offers some canine advice.
"Thank you, 1-Rover-1," Zark says. "I'm happy you think everything's going to be all right, but Jason disobeyed orders, and you know how strict Chief Anderson can be about rules and discipline."
Enter Mark and Princess, drawn like Hanna-Barbera characters on a day when all the artists were on strike and the art had to be done by the cleaning staff.
"Hi, Zark," Mark says.
"We're home again," Princess tells him, just to dispel any notions that they might be somewhere else.
"This is a real honour, Commander, Princess," Zark says, enthused, "but I suspect it means a terrible problem of some sort."
"No problem," Mark says. "We bring you word from Chief Anderson." Yup, they're sure having problems with the phones, today.
"He's left it up to you to decide what punishment should be handed out to Jason," Princess says, "for infraction of the rules."
This is some kind of robot drug trip, isn't it?
"Oh, my," Zark says. "This is a problem. For me. Jason certainly proved his loyalty to G-Force today, you know. My multiplex discontinuity filters say, that makes 'x' equal 'y,' so I say, his punishment is that he must represent Center Neptune in the Interstellar 500 stock car race next month."
"That's really givin' it to him, Zark," Mark says. "You know how Jason hates to drive racing cars."
"A Supreme Court Justice couldn't have come up with a better decision," Princess says. "You're a genius, Zark." She bends and kisses Zark on his horrible little domed head, and he giggles. And you thought the screen adaptation of Isaac Asimov's Bicentennial Man was a bit off...
"I do have a knack for diplomacy," Zark says. "I know I was manufactured, but I wonder if I'm not becoming just a little bit human?"
I hope not. Oh, heavens, I hope not.
It was an interesting treatment of the Cronus character in this episode. Looking at the Gatchaman-based episode order, Cronus' opposite number, Kentaro Washio, aka Red Impulse, died some twenty episodes ago, so they had to use one of the other guys to play him. Given the obvious differences in their features (and I can remember noticing it all those years ago!) it would have made more sense to simply cast the wingman as the wingman and explain away Cronus' absence the way they explained away so many things, but that's just me.