Fatal Error

Jupe asked the security chief, “What’s Rome promising in return if you pay the blackmail money?”

Silas Ek’s face was ashen. “I suppose I’m going to have to tell you.” He sighed. “It’s not a matter of if. It’s when we pay the blackmail. We can’t afford to lose any more data. If we give Rome the money, he’ll give us the antidote to the virus.”

“Antidote?” Pete looked questioningly at Jupe. “A program to erase a specific virus,” Jupe explained. “See, there are antidotes around to fight known viruses. But since Rome made up his own, no one else knows it. He’s the only one who can kill it now.”

“What a mess,” Bob said.

“Yes,” Ek said glumly. “You’re smart young men, but I have to ask you to back off on this. Forget Rome.”

“No way!” Pete cried.

Ek shook his head. “You can’t help Oracle, but you can hurt us by attracting the press or screwing up the deal. If we pay off Rome, we can get back to work. We’ve kept this secret, even from most of our employees. Please promise not to tell anyone… and not to interfere.” Just then a young woman’s voice called across the Oracle grounds. “Si — lasss! Si — lasss! Look, Hack. There he is!”

The little group turned. And the Investigators stared, stunned, as the two famous Cosmic Trek stars — red-haired Hack den Zorn and blond Qute den Zorn — walked toward them.

“It’s… it’s… ” Bob tried.

“Y-y-yeah… ” Pete stammered.

Silas Ek shook hands with Hack, who was six feet five and dressed in doublet and tights. Big-jawed and muscular, Hack wore a sword in a jeweled scabbard at his side.

“Qute and Hack are here to film a soft-drink commercial,” Silas Ek explained. He introduced the eighteen- year-old twins to the Investigators, whom he described as visitors. Jupe decided that shaking Qute den Zorn’s hand was something he wouldn’t mind doing again.

“We’re early,” Qute said, and swished her long velvet skirt. “Hack got the time wrong, and he made me hurry so much I forgot my biology book. Life!” She gave Ek a kiss on the cheek.

The Investigators couldn’t take their eyes off her. Her pale corn-silk hair fell loose to her bare shoulders. She was nearly six feet tall and had an elegant, high-boned face. But why was she worried about a biology book?

As if she could read the guys’ minds, Qute explained.

“Now I can’t study between takes, which is bad news ’cause my tutor’s scheduled a big test tomorrow,” Qute smiled a frustrated smile.

“I told you, no sweat. You’ll ace it easy.” Hack turned to the Investigators and said, “You wouldn’t believe her memory. It’s like a data bank. And she reads everything!”

Qute rolled her eyes.

Silas Ek grinned. “Qute’s a brain. But she’s quiet about it.”

“Not my idea,” said Qute to the Investigators. “It’s our publicist. He’s convinced it’ll ruin my image if people know I’m smart.”

“He could be right,” said Hack cautiously.

“Nuts! Why should I stifle myself for an image? I swear, I’m going to drop out of Hollywood and go to college.”

“Qu — ute,” groaned Hack. The Investigators could tell that the twins had had this discussion many times before.

“Seriously,” Qute went on. “I wouldn’t be the first star to do it. I can always make movies in the summer.”

“And your fans will wait for you!” Bob said loyally.

“But who’s gonna believe you’re a helpless princess on the screen when you’re cramming biology the rest of the year — and your hobby is collecting weird science facts?” teased Hack.

“You collect facts too?” said Jupe without thinking. Then he blushed, embarrassed.

Qute turned her blue eyes on Jupe and studied him hopefully. “All the time,” she said. “Like: A teaspoon of seawater has as many molecules in it as there are teaspoons of water in the Atlantic Ocean. That’s from The Odd Book of Facts.”

Qute looked at Jupe expectantly.

“Go on, Jupe,” urged Bob. “Say something. She isn’t the only one who reads encyclopedias!”

“Yeah,” added Pete. “Show her your photographic memory!”

Jupiter seemed to come to life. He was shy around girls, but never around facts. “How about this?” he asked Qute. “Saturn has such a low density that if you dropped it into a bathtub it’d float like a bar of Ivory soap. That’s from Contemporary Astronomy.”

Qute laughed with delight. “Jupiter! Where have you been all my life!”

Jupe drew himself up to his full five feet eight and three-quarters inches and grinned. “Recycling just one run of the Sunday New York Times would save 75,000 trees. Zero Population Growth Reporter.”

“Good one!” said Qute.

Silas Ek frowned and looked at his watch. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got an appointment. Qute, would you and Hack show the guys Club Dead? I’ll be right back.” He turned to the Investigators. “Think about what I said. I’ll need your decision before you leave. I hope I can count on you.”

Oh, yeah, the virus, Jupe reminded himself as he tried not to stare at beautiful Qute. Ek wanted them to stop their investigation, while the Investigators wanted to continue it. What should they do?

“What’s Club Dead?” Bob asked as Qute and Hack led them into the Oracle warehouse.

Hack laughed and said mysteriously. “You’ll see. But don’t worry… you’ll like it.”

While he kept his eye on Qute, Pete was also fascinated by big Hack. “Do you work out every day?” he asked the teen heartthrob.

“Yup. Pecs, lats, quads,” Hack explained. “I’ve got a routine, you know? How about yourself?”

While Hack and Pete talked muscles, the group wound through dark wood-paneled halls lined with closed office doors. “Man, this place is antique,” Bob said. “Yeah, everything’s so state of the art around here,” Hack said as he opened a door at the end of the corridor, “it’s hard to remember the building’s ancient.”

“Oh, wow!” Pete cried as he followed Hack into a cavernous room. “Is this Club Dead?” Jupe asked in awe. “Yup,” Hack said. “Dead at Oracle means something’s no longer needed. Say a picture or a commercial’s in the can — finished. Some of the ‘dead’ props and stuff can be used later, on other projects. So they’re stored here — Club Dead.”

Club Dead was a two-story-high fantasy land. Just inside the entrance stood a tall chrome robot with crab claws for hands. Beyond were crammed exotic creatures, scenery, and machines. My dad would kill to see this place, thought Pete.

“This room is so much fun we hate to go to work,” said Hack. “Check this.” He flipped a switch.

“Watch the magic screen,” Qute said, pointing up.

To their right a twelve-foot television screen high on the wall turned on with a soft click. The group watched as gigantic dancing bears melted into dancing molecules the size of baseballs. Then the background of futuristic skyscrapers loomed larger and larger until they threatened to topple right out of the screen.

“Computer graphics?” Jupe asked.

Qute nodded. “The best ever. Artists draw outlines of people or things on the computer, and then the computer fills in the outlines and makes them move.”

“I get it,” Bob said. “The computer makes 2-D images into 3-D ones.”

“Yeah,” Hack said. “That’s how a lot of animation’s done now.”

“But not every computer can do it,” Qute added. “We’re talking major number crunching here.”

“Like twelve trillion calculations a second to make a complicated 3-D image move.” Jupe grinned as everyone looked at him, astounded.

“How’d you know that? ” Qute was impressed.

“Read it in Time magazine.”

Just then the door opened, and Silas Ek stuck in his bald head. “They’re ready for you on the set,” he told Qute and Hack.