Castle Kidnapped

“It’s just clearing off a little disk space. There’s nothing there but junk, anyway.”

“Wonderful. Will that help?”

“I don’t know.”

CONTINUE RUN? the computer asked.

GO AHEAD.

NEED I SAY THE OBVIOUS?

“What? Oh, yeah.”

Jeremy pressed the Return key.

Nothing much happened, except that the floor, which had continued to vibrate slightly even with the stabilization spell operating, now settled down completely.

“Even better than before,” Linda said. “But still no portal.”

“Now what?”

“Let’s keep moving. There’re probably people hurt. We might be able to do something.”

The zones of instability, both forward and rear, receded as they walked.

“Things are looking up,” Linda said.

“It’s not my computer,” Jeremy said.

“How do you know?”

“I just know, somehow. But let me check.”

Jeremy typed, PROGRAM STILL RUNNING?

DISTURBANCE BEING AMELIORATED BY OUTSIDE INFLUENCE.

“Yeah, it’s something else.”

Linda emitted a little squeal. “Lord Incarnadine!”

Jeremy looked up from the readout screen to see His Majesty emerging from a shadowy alcove.

“Hi, Linda,” Incarnadine said.

“Oh, are we glad to see you!” Linda said, throwing her arms around him.

Incarnadine smiled at Jeremy over Linda’s shoulder. “Mr. Hochstader! Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Me, sir?” Jeremy said.

Incarnadine gave Linda a few more squeezes and let her go. “Yes, you. And you, too, Linda. I need your help.”

“You need us?” Linda asked, astounded.

“Sure do, to straighten out this little problem we seem to be having. You have noticed that we’re having a problem?” He glanced about. “Although things seem to be fine right here.”

“That’s Jeremy’s doing. His magic computer.”

“Of course! The very talent I wish to tap.”

“I didn’t do it all,” Jeremy said.

“No, you didn’t,” Incarnadine agreed. “I have a stabilization spell of my own working. It’ll buy us time, but not much. We have about ten hours. Then the quantum uncertainties will start arriving in huge waves, and the castle will cease to exist.”

Linda blanched. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s that bad. But we can still save the day, if we act now. Feel in a heroic mood?”

“Sure,” Linda said. “I guess.”

“How’re your magical muscles? Toned up, firm? No ectoplasmic cellulite?”

“Just feel that,” Linda told him, flexing her right biceps.

“Nice.”

Jeremy shook his head, confused. “Sir, what exactly is it that you want us to do?”

“Jeremy, I need your skills as a computer programmer and operator. We’re going to run one monster of a spell, using the castle’s mainframe.”

“A mainframe? Here? But I’ve never worked with a mainframe —”

“I’ll train you. It will be a huge challenge, but I have every confidence in you, my boy. You have an enormous creative talent.”

Jeremy’s throat had gone dry. He swallowed hard, then said, “Thank you, sir. I’ll … I’ll try.”

Incarnadine laid a firm hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “I know you will.”

Jeremy returned the King’s warm smile.

“And I’ll need your conjuring skills, Linda.”

“You got ’em.”

“Good. Follow me, I know a shortcut.”

Incarnadine led them into the alcove, where an elevator waited.

“I’ve never been able to magic one up that worked,” Linda said admiringly. “This is great.”

“Well, as long as you leave out most of the mechanical parts, it’s fine. This one works by levitation, no cables.”

They boarded the elevator, and the doors closed. Magical artifact or not, the inside of the thing looked like the genuine article, panel of floor stops and all.

But the King pressed no buttons. “Eightieth floor,” he commanded into the air.

The elevator obeyed. It gave a slight jerk, then began to rise.

“Good thing you hung on to that laptop of yours,” Incarnadine said. “We can use it as a dumb terminal.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jeremy said, looking down at the Toshiba, which he cradled in his left arm. He happened to glance at the readout screen.

It read, DUMB TERMINAL, EH? KISS MY PARALLEL PORT.

Twenty-six Hills

If only the Umoi had been a more belligerent race.

But the Umoi had given up war centuries before their demise. Consequently, when Gene had asked Zond about weapons, Zond had trouble grasping the concept. Gene remembered the conversation.

“Weapons,” Gene repeated. “Guns, bombs, nasty stuff like that?”

“Well, this may sound strange, Gene, but I think we’ve hit a subject that’s in one of my interdicted files.”

“What are those?”

“Subject areas that may or may not contain data, but which cannot be accessed except by special permission from the Chief of Library Services.”

“Who’s been dead for fifty centuries.”

“Precisely.”

“You do know generically what a weapon is, though, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. But I’m specifically prohibited from discussing the subject, in any way, under any circumstances. The ban is very comprehensive. I couldn’t if I wanted to. Do you understand?”

“Sure.”

So universal was the Umoi proscription against violence, offensive or defensive, that Gene had had no recourse but to drive the rover over a cliff to escape the hundak, the six-legged bulldozer he had run into on the way to Annau. The rover had not possessed the capacity to harm a microbe, much less the hundak.

If only the Umoi had been a tad more irascible, just a jot less peace-loving. Maybe then Gene would have been able to procure a high-tech weapon.

“One would sure come in handy right now.”

“Did you speak, husband?”

Gene hadn’t realized he was thinking aloud. “It’s nothing, Vaya.”

“You seem troubled.”