Laboratory
“Jeremy, something's happening.”
Jeremy poked his head out of the hatch of the Sidewise Voyager.
“Did you say something, Isis?”
Isis was seated at the mainframe station. “Yes. We're receiving data through the modem, but it looks like gibberish.”
“Wait a sec, I'll be up.”
Jeremy sat in the craft's pilot seat and entered a few commands on the keyboard of a Toshiba laptop computer, which was bolted to the control panel.
A voice replied: “Will do, Jerry-baby.”
“Hey, that's ‘Jeremy.’ Cut the crap.”
“Well, all right. Just trying to be friendly.”
Jeremy's Toshiba laptop had been an ordinary personal computer before he brought it into the castle. Since then it had inexplicably developed a personality of its own. After it interfaced with the old mainframe—the one that had been destroyed in the altercation with the Hosts of Hell—it got even stranger. Against his better judgment, Jeremy gave the laptop voice capability when he installed it in the traveler, and because the result unsettled him so much, he decided not to give the same capacity to the rebuilt mainframe. He was glad of the decision. He had needed a model in designing the mainframe's operating system and chose the laptop's MS-DOS system because it was handy. Perhaps this explained why the laptop's personality and the mainframe's were similar. Whatever the reason, he did not need two talking smart-asses.
Now, Isis was another matter entirely. With the Isis program running, the mainframe's personality was submerged. Or was it that Isis was an improved version of the mainframe? Both had the hots for him. The laptop, thankfully, didn't.
As he keyed in more commands, he felt a sudden wistful yearning for the days when computers didn't think.
“Run these instrument checks again,” he added orally.
“Right away, sweetie.”
“Weird,” he muttered. He got up and left.
Outside, he checked the small induction coil that was taped and glued to the craft's bell-shaped hull. Screws had been impossible; the hull seemed impermeable, and Jeremy wouldn't have chanced breaching it, anyway. Improvised as it was, the coil would provide a reading of the “interstitial etherium,” whatever that might be.
Arriving at the mainframe terminal station, he asked, “What's up?”
“I can't get a feel for what this data is,” Isis said fretfully.
“It seems to be patterned, but I can't put any kind of interpretation on it that makes sense.”
Jeremy looked at the clot of numbers on the screen.
“I smell pixels in all that.”
“Pixels. You mean it's—?” Isis's brow went up. “Of course!” She threw her arms around Jeremy's waist. “You're so brilliant!” She typed in some commands.
The numbers disappeared and what appeared in their place was the face of Lord Incarnadine.
“Ah. You figured it out. Good work, Jeremy.”
“Lord Incarnadine! Hey, you found a way to call again. Great. What's your situation?”
“Still on the way to a place where I might effect a spell to get me home. By the way, who's your new assistant? I don't believe I've had the pleasure.”
“Hello again, my lord. It's Isis. Remember?”
“Isis! Why, how nice.... You know, I don't recall ever seeing you in this configuration.”
“I've never been in this configuration before. It was only a fortunate fluke that allowed it to happen—and of course Jeremy's expertise.”
Incarnadine chuckled. “You mean his recklessness in loading un-debugged programs into defective operating systems.”
Isis pouted. “I'm hurt.”
He laughed. “Don't be. I'm glad you turned out as well as you did.”
“But I don't have bugs. Endearing foibles, maybe.”
“I stand corrected. My dear, I'd love to chat, but we don't have the time. Jeremy, I just called to check in. Don't have any new information. There were some problems along the way, and I just got done riding a hellwind.”
“What's that?”
“A fast but dangerous mode of transportation around here. The trick is getting off. I managed to do it, but the ride was exhausting. And my horse is about fagged out. I expect to be delayed even more. I'm assuming that Isis helped you with the operating system.”
“With Isis, we have a fully functioning installation here,” Jeremy said. “Also, we've got the spell program pretty much worked out, but we need to input data on the state of the whatchamacallum.”
“Yeah, getting a reading on the whatchamacallum is going to be a problem. Unfortunately I don't have any answers. There are instruments in my study that would give us some idea, but one, they're very old and temperamental and only I can use them effectively, and two, they wouldn't yield the accuracy we would need, anyway.”
“Right. We're gonna need an energy-state factor accurate to a couple of decimal places,” Jeremy said. “We figure the only way to do that is to rev up the Voyager, fly out into the inter-universal medium, and get it.”
Incarnadine shook his head sharply. “Absolutely not. Too dangerous.”
“We know it's dangerous, but it's the only way we'll get the data we need.”
“We'll end up losing you, the data, and the Voyager. No, too great a risk. Under no circumstances are you to try this. Understand?”
Jeremy shrugged. “You're the king.”
“And don't you forget it, kid. Seriously, it's much too risky. Don't do anything at least until I get there. There may be a way to interpolate the data from those rickety instruments of mine, but I'll have to be there to do it.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Anything else happening?”
“Yeah, Linda said that there's something strange about the Earth aspect. Halfway disappeared, and there's some unknown world out there.”
“That's not good,” Incarnadine said. “Anything else?”
“Well, I haven't heard anything. We're pretty isolated up here. I'm expecting a report any minute now, though, and...”
The door to the lab flew open and Osmirik rushed in.
“Here's Ozzie now, sir. Maybe he—”
“Is that His Majesty?” Osmirik was breathless.
“Right here, Ozzie. What's wrong?”
Osmirik elbowed Jeremy aside. “My lord!”
“What is it, Osmirik?”
“There is an impostor loose in the castle, someone claiming to be you!”
Incarnadine said calmly, “Tell me all about it.”
“This man has brought an invading force, my lord, dressed as Guardsmen and claiming to be Guardsmen. I have information that they are led by a man who is a double of Tyrene. The man claiming to be you is also a double, and from all reports a convincing one, at least on sight.”
“Interesting. Have any idea where they come from?”
“No idea, Your Majesty. Everyone is mystified. There has been sporadic resistance among our forces, but the problem of course is knowing which are our forces and which are not. Not many of our castle folk are convinced that the impostor is you, but there is widespread confusion.”
“No doubt confusion reigns. Tyrene—our Tyrene—probably has his hands full, and we have a full-scale problem on ours.”
“Yes, my lord. To compound the chaos, some of the Guardsmen have seen their own impostors among the invaders.”
“That clinches it. It's a mirror aspect.”
“A mirror aspect?”
“Another result of the same interstitial disturbance. It's an ordinary aspect that has turned into a mirror image of the castle itself. Sometimes the image is true, sometimes wildly at variance with the original. I've never run into it personally, but my ancestors have. Though there's nothing in the record about a mirror castle invading. It's a crazy notion.”
“It does beggar credulity, my lord.”
“But it seems to have happened. Jeremy, you'll have to throw a spell around the lab to protect yourself. Isis, do you think you can help Jeremy with that?”
“It'll be simple, my lord, compared to the other project.”
“Yes, but you'll be dealing with my double. He may be my double in everything, including magical power and knowledge of the castle's secrets, as well as its spells. Understand? We'll have to devise something out of the ordinary. Osmirik, could you come up with a puzzler out of some dusty old grimoire—you know, the real arcane stuff? There is the chance the impostor might not be the lover of antiquities that I am. It might give him trouble, at least temporarily.”
“I may be able to oblige, my liege, though I shall have to be quick about it. Access to the library may already be threatened.”
“Go then, and be quick.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Osmirik rushed out of the lab.
“Jeremy, I don't know what to tell you. Just get the big spell ready, and ... well, I suppose I'll get there when I get there.”
“Yes, sir. Is that all?”
“Yeah, except remember what I said about not risking your life.”
“It looks like our lives are at risk as it is.”
“Maybe, but don't do anything rash. Keep a low profile, and get that protection spell up as quickly as you can.”
Jeremy said, “I'll do my best, but...”
“What is it?”
“Well, I'm still not used to all this magic stuff. Please don't expect any miracles.”
“Don't underestimate yourself.”
“He always does, my lord,” Isis said reprovingly.
“We all know about Jeremy's chronic inferiority bugaboo. Disabuse yourself of all that crap, mister. That's an ironclad, kingly order.”
Jeremy reddened. “Yes, sir.”
Incarnadine's face split into a grin. “Tell my doppelganger not to do anything I wouldn't do. I'll try to keep in touch. See you later.”
Incarnadine's hand came up in front of his face, and his image faded.
Jeremy and Isis sat staring at the darkened screen.
“He's such a great man,” Isis said:
“Yeah.” After a moment, Jeremy yanked open a drawer, rummaged through it, and came up with a package of Hostess Twinkies. Linda kept him supplied. He ripped open the cellophane and stuffed one golden loaf-shaped cake into his mouth. “Excuse me,” he said with a full mouth, “but I'm starved.”
Isis smiled. “Go right ahead. Would you like some coffee with that?”
Jeremy nodded. He sat and chewed while his “assistant” got him coffee. Jeremy knew she was more than that. In fact, he couldn't have accomplished anything without her. He should be getting her coffee.
His gaze drifted to the Voyager, which sat up on its platform across the floor of the lab. He shook his head ruefully. There had to be a way.