“The Robert Nathaniel Hood ancient Rouladenian newspaper economics class.”
“Why do I need to take that?” she asked.
“Because you hate to lie,” he explained. “As you're now taking my class, when you tell Emily Marrison that you need to talk to her boss about how the newspaper she works for generates revenue, you'll be telling her the truth.”
“Why would I want to tell her that, exactly?” the previously-green maiden asked.
“While you've got her distracted,” Robert replied, “Morgan is going to send me a signal and I'm going to temporarily cut power to the building. During the thirty seconds of darkness that ensues, Morgan is going to slip the micro-holo-projector into her desk drawer, along with the lunch we've prepared for her.”
“You're sending Morgan with me?” she asked, rolling her eyes.
“I am,” the traveler nodded. “He needs more experience, and he's large enough to look like your father.”
“Why can't I go with him?” Azure asked with a smile. “I could just as easily take your 'class'.”
“Cleo is about the size of a ninth-grader,” Robert explained. “Projects like this are normal for Rouladenian kids around that age.”
“She could come with us, too,” Cleo replied.
“She could,” the traveler nodded. “But, there's no need. This is a two-person job. You two are the two people best suited to handle it.”
“What are the rest of us going to be doing?” Celeste asked.
“You're going to get the signal relay put in place,” Robert answered. “After that, you'll be sitting at a table in a nice restaurant, waiting for the three of us to finish up. I figured you'd like that more than hanging around on the ship. Besides, we might as well eat lunch before we head back.”
“That does sound like a lot more fun than waiting around here,” she smiled.
“I thought you'd like it, Mama,” he winked. “I intend to get us off the ship as much as I safely can. I think it'll be good for morale.”
“I'm sure it will be,” Doc agreed.
Just minutes later, Cleo – the ship, not the girl – was quite invisibly in orbit above the planet that was currently their target. Cleo – the girl this time – then locked the ship down using the special virus she had coded up years earlier. This time the password to unlock it was RobertIsFinallyBehavingHimself. This she shared with her companions, just in case something happened to her before they got back to the ship. Needless to say, the password elicited a good deal of laughter from the crew – even from Robert himself. With this taken care of, the companions climbed into the car and flew in the direction of the small town in which Miss Marrison lived. They parked just beyond its outskirts and – due to the wonderful weather – decided to walk the rest of the way.
As they did this, Morgan began to muse aloud.
“Dwarves are real,” he asserted.
“Schnitzelians are real,” Robert replied.
“Elves are real, as well,” he continued.
“Rouladenians are real,” the traveler nodded.
“Rob,” the young man said, his eyes on his captain – who was walking a few feet ahead of him, “is Lord of the Rings real?”
“Magic isn't real, Morgan.”
“Sure, sure,” he nodded, “but, couldn't you and Vox make a flaming sword using technology?”
“Sure,” Vox asserted.
“What about a ring that would make you invisible?”
“There's no such thing as invisibility rings,” the traveler asserted. “Think of all the trouble you could get into if you could just become invisible at will.”
“Or what you might 'accidentally' bump into,” Cleo giggled.
“But... we have stealth-belts that do just that,” Morgan pointed out. “Couldn't you make a ring...”
“Of course we could,” Vox chuckled. “Rob was lying, Morgan. Probably because the answer to your question is so blindingly obvious.”
“Plus, I like lying,” the traveler added.
This caused Cleo to punch him in the arm.
“I was just teasing,” he lied.
“What about a ring that could brain-control people?” the young man continued. “Like how Rob used to be able to brain-control me.”
“I never brain-controlled you,” Robert claimed.
“Yes, you did,” Azure disagreed.
“I'm sorry,” the traveler said, shaking his head, “I meant to say; I never stopped brain-controlling you.”
“Funny,” Morgan replied. “Either way, could you...”
“Morgan,” Robert sighed, “are you coming to a point?”
“I was just wondering if we could make one ring to rule them all?”
“Would you want something like that?” Robert asked, glancing at his friend from over his shoulder.
“Not really,” Morgan shrugged. “But, I think it would be cool to throw it into Mount Doom.”
“You're too tall to be Samwise.”
“Don't worry about that,” Morgan laughed. “You are more than short enough to be Frodo.”
“Oh, that's a riot, that is,” Robert replied with mock disdain. “However do you do it?”
Just minutes later, the party had broken into four. Doc and Celeste made their way to the restaurant to get a table, Vox and Azure headed for a nearby park where they planned to hide the relay, Cleo and Morgan strolled toward the office building where Emily Marrison worked, and Robert meandered toward the entrance leading to the basement of that same structure.
“Which pocket have you got the holo-projector in?” Cleo asked quietly as Morgan opened the door for her.
“My right-hand jacket pocket,” he replied.
“You remember how to send the signal to Rob?” she asked as he followed her into the building.
“Push the button on my watch,” he replied, holding it up for her inspection.
“You remember which one?”
“It only has three buttons.”
“That doesn't answer my question,” she pointed out.
“Yes,” he sighed. “I remember.”
“How are you going to get the lunch?” she asked, as the two of them began to climb the staircase near the entrance.
“You're going to get a pad out of your backpack,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “When you do that, you'll hand the lunch to me.”
“Then, what do you do?”
“You know, Cleo,” he said with a tone of mild annoyance, “I handle things like this with Rob all the time. Despite the fact that I only use about six percent of my brain, I'm not actually an idiot.”
“I never said that you were.”
“Well, stop treating me like one.”
“I just want to make sure that we don't mess this up,” she explained. “This is the first time we've done a job alone together. Let's not give Captain Hood anything he can laugh at.”
“You think I'm likely to do that?” he asked.
“I know you're likely to do that,” she giggled. “I'm just doing my best to make sure that you don't.”
“You'd better watch how you speak to me, young lady,” he replied, pretending to glare at her. “You're still not too old for me to put over my knee.”
“I wouldn't try that if I were you,” she asserted, pretending to threaten him.
“I wouldn't try that if I were me, either,” he nodded, opening another door for her. “Rob would break my legs... Not to mention Azure... And, you, as well, of course...”
“Shhh,” she said, shaking her head. “We're almost there.”
She was right. A few feet from the entrance to the stairway, stood the door they were in search of. Morgan stepped over to it, opened it, allowed Cleo to pass in front of him, and followed quickly behind her.
The chamber into which they stepped was filled with several beautiful young ladies, all working away on what appeared to be typewriters. Several young men, ranging in height from around five-foot ten to six-foot three, were also in the room, carrying on tasks
which required them to pass from one desk to another, carrying various papers along with them. Morgan hardly noticed them at all, however.
His attention was drawn to the females, not only because of their beauty, but also because of their clothing, their makeup, and their hair. It seemed to the young man that not only was the technology of Rouladen similar to Earth in the nineteen-forties, but that their fashions were, as well. He felt that most of the young women would have been able to do photo-shoots for world war two calendars without even changing their clothes. Although he knew next to nothing about women’s hairstyles, he believed that some of them were wearing what were called 'victory curls'. (As it happens, he was right about that.)
The typewriters also seemed very similar to those from Earth, with the exception of the fact that all the letters where in the wrong places. This was hardly surprising, however, as the Rouladenian language and ancient English didn't share a single character. The letters did seem somewhat familiar to the young man, however. He considered the idea that this might have been because they looked somewhat like elvish from Lord of the Rings. On the other hand, his being able to read Rouladenian fluently might also have explained it.
Atop many of the desks – which were made of metal, and also looked as if they had come from Earth near the middle of the twentieth century – sat devices that Morgan was certain were telephones. One of the things that made him completely positive of this was the fact that several of the ladies were talking on them at that moment.
As interesting as Morgan found all this, however, his attention was brought back to the task at hand by Cleo stopping in front of a desk and beginning to speak.
“Excuse me,” she said, “are you Miss Marrison?”
“I am,” the young lady replied. “Who might you be?”
“My name is Cleo Zelbizarre,” she replied. “I'm taking a class – a very brief class – on the economics of running a newspaper and I was wondering if you could introduce me to Mister Pravlor and persuade him to answer a few questions for me.”
“I'm sure that could be arranged,” she smiled before turning her attention to the young man. “Who is this?”
“Morgan,” Morgan replied, offering her his hand. “Morgan Zelbizarre, at your service, Miss.”
“Is she your daughter?” Emily asked.
“She certainly is,” he replied, wrapping his arm around her and squeezing her tightly. “She's daddy's little princess, aren't you, love?”
As he asked this, he pinched her on the cheek. In reply, she simply rolled her eyes.
“Little girls,” he shrugged. “They get embarrassed so easily. She wanted to come up here all by herself, but her mother wouldn't hear of it.”
“I can understand that,” Miss Marrison smiled. “You should be thankful that your father is willing to take the time for you, Miss Zelbizarre.”
“Oh, I am,” Cleo said, doing her best to sound sincere. “I'm very well aware of the fact that not everyone has a father like him.”
“They certainly don't,” Morgan winked.
“What questions do you have?” Emily asked. “I may be able to answer some of them for you.”
“I would appreciate that,” Cleo said, stepping around behind the desk, slipping off her backpack, and unzipping it.
As Morgan followed her around the desk, she pulled a bagged lunch from her pack.
“Hold this, please, Morgan,” she said, handing it to him.
“Morgan?” Miss Marrison replied with a tone of disapproval in her voice.
“I mean; Daddy,” Cleo said, visibly blushing at her minor faux pas.
“Kids today,” the young man chuckled. “They get to be five-feet tall and they think they're grown.”
“Even being grown,” Emily said, “I don't think it's proper to refer to your parents by their first names.”
“Neither do I,” he nodded, glancing at his watch. “But, we may be a little behind the times, there, Miss Marrison. Either way, dear, we need to hurry. Your mother will be wondering where we are if we take too long.”
For several seconds, Cleo stood with her hand in her bag.
“If you can't find your pad...” Emily began.
“No, no,” Cleo replied, drawing one from her backpack. “I have one right here. What time is it, Daddy?”
“I think there may be something wrong with my watch,” Morgan replied. “I pushed the middle button...”
“The bottom button?” Cleo interrupted.
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, pushing the button in question. “Well, dear, it looks like it's exactly...”
At that moment, the building went dark. Cleo and Morgan instantly sprang into action. The one opening the drawer, dropping the bag lunch in it, snapping the magnetized, biodegradable holo-projector in place, and closing the drawer. Meanwhile, the other spoke loudly enough to drown out the sound of a drawer being opened and closed. Exactly thirty seconds after the lights went out, they came back on.
Miss Marrison speculated that it must have been a power surge. Neither Cleo nor Morgan disagreed with her. Roughly twenty minutes after this, Cleo had all of her questions answered – including three that she had to put to Mister Pravlor himself – and the pair were on their way to the restaurant. Along the way, they came to an agreement. If Morgan didn't tell Robert about Cleo calling him 'Morgan', then Cleo wouldn't tell Robert about Morgan forgetting which of the three buttons on his watch was used to send secret signals.
As their task would clearly have taken the longest to complete, the pair expected to be the last to arrive at the restaurant. They weren't.
“Where's Rob?” Cleo asked with a touch of annoyance in her voice.
“Late?” Vox shrugged. “We were expecting him to be with you.”
“How did everything go on your end?” Morgan asked.
“Great,” Azure smiled. “We managed to find a tree with a hollowed-out trunk to hide the relay in.”
“That sounds perfect,” the young man opined.
“It is,” Vox nodded. “In about twenty more minutes it'll start to break down. An hour after that, it'll be nothing but fertilizer.”
“Biodegradable electronics are pretty handy,” Morgan observed.
“They certainly are,” Azure smiled. “Plus, they don't junk up the environment.”
“That's true,” Cleo agreed, grabbing Morgan by the wrist and looking at his watch. “That still doesn't tell us where Rob is, though.”
“He's probably buying you flowers,” Vox suggested.
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“He'll need 'em when he apologizes for being late,” Vox chuckled.
“If he were on time,” Celeste interjected. “He wouldn't need to apologize.”
“Good point,” Cleo nodded.
“He's not really late,” Doc pointed out. “He didn't tell us when he would be here, only that we needed to wait here until he arrived. We simply need to give him a few more minutes.”
They gave him a few more minutes.
“Where is he?!” Cleo finally exclaimed, having restrained herself as long as she could.
“Hold on, small girl,” Vox replied, rising from his seat. “I'll go find out.”
Having said this, he made his way toward the restrooms. After several more minutes, he returned to the table shaking his head. As he resumed his seat, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Where is he?” Cleo asked again for the umpteenth time.
“As far as I can tell, Cleo,” Vox replied softly, “he's in jail.”
“In jail?!” she exclaimed as loudly as she dared.
“I think so,” Vox nodded. “I got a lock on his transponder and cross-referenced his location with the maps in the car's computer. As far as I can tell, he's in the town tank.”
“What do we do?” Morgan asked
“What do we do?” Cleo repeated. “We break him out, Morgan!”
Chapter 3: Real Today, Clone Tomorrow
“Of course, we break
him out, Cleo,” Morgan agreed. “What I'm asking is: how do we go about that?”
“Cautiously,” Doc replied, rising from his seat. “There may be some reason Robert hasn't already set himself at liberty. The first thing we need to do is reconnoiter the situation and try to contact him.”
“We should have brought communicators,” Cleo asserted, also rising from her seat.
“True,” Morgan nodded. “We didn't expect enough of the unexpected. Either way, as Rob would say: let's go case the joint.”
Mere seconds later, the entire band was strolling down the street in the direction of the jail, intending to 'case' the aforementioned 'joint'. Before they reached their destination, however, an unfamiliar Rouladenian approached them and spoke.
“Where are you guys going?” the stranger asked with a somewhat familiar voice.
“Why do you ask?” Morgan replied with a tone of suspicion.
“Because,” the stranger asserted, “you were supposed to be waiting for me at the restaurant.”
“Do we know you?” the young man asked.
“It's me, Morgan.”
“Me who?”
“Morgan...” Azure said, shaking her head, “don't you recognize his voice?”
“He sounds like Rob.”
“I am Rob, you idiot,” the Rouladenian laughed.
“Why don't you look like you?”
“I modified the hologram,” Robert explained as he began to lead the group back toward the restaurant. “As the police will likely be looking for me before long, I thought it might be a good idea if I didn't look like I had when I got myself arrested.”
“Why did you get arrested?” Cleo asked.
“An officer spotted me sneaking out of the basement entrance right after the power came back on,” the traveler replied. “He figured I'd done it as a prank – which was pretty close to true, I guess – and arrested me. I'm sure he was just trying to scare me – after all, I look like your average fifteen-year-old Rouladenian – but, I thought it best not to hang around long enough to find out.”
“How did you get away?” Morgan asked.
“With this,” Robert replied, holding up a familiar object.
“That's what you used to reattach – and then un-reattach – the stone in Cleo's ring,” the young man observed.
The Search for Cleo Page 4
