At the height of the high white flight of stairs was a small landing and a tall wooden door. Bott and his crew studied it for a moment without detecting spikes, poisoned nails, or opening for projectiles. It lacked even a knocker with a nasty expression. One hand on a grenade, Bott turned the knb and walked through.
“Well, when UI milk the president into his own hat!” cried Louba.
Light blue walls were hung with gold draperies. Under each set of curtains sat a handsome golden chair with a blue cushion. Between each display f chair and drapes was another plain white wooden door.
“Leastways, we gets ta rest our foots,” noted Louba, heading for a throne.
Chlorda raised one gold hand. “Don’t, dear. If either of you deposits your poundage on one of those, we’ll have shiny kindling.”
“Neato squeato,” said Bassada, thrusting one hand down the collar of the aristocrat’s gown. “Jes’ right fer toastin’ shiny tiny toes.”
Bott was studying the doors. Bolted to each doorframe, above the actual entryway, was a row of brass letters, different on each. Bott could read none of these: “NOT THIS WAY”, “THIS DOOR AND TWO LEFT TURNS AND YOU’RE FREE”, or “VERY HUNGRY WEIRNETS BACK HERE.”
“Ow!”
He turned to find the gold sitting on the floor next to one of the chairs. “I don’t mind going plop if it entertains little brains.” She said, rubbing one hip as she rose. “But you might’ve smashed my lunch.”
“I was over here, Teeny Top,” said Louba, giving the hangings around another chair a yank, and stepping back to see if anything happened.
“Don’t care where ya sits,” said Bassada, easing herself gingerly onto the seat of another chair. “Long’s it ain’t me face.”
“You’d have to wash your face,” snapped Chlorda.
“Flallop!” Louba spun to face them, looking from one to another. “Still got that rope on ya, do ya, Cap’n?” She rubbed both hips vigorously.
Bott set his back against a door labeled ‘GRENADE STORAGE”. “We’re not alone. Did it feel like an insect bite?”
“Whoops!”Bassada jumped out of the chair. “If it’s a bug, it’s got mighty educated fingers!”
”Let’s leave, shall we?” Chlorda reached for a door marked ‘THIS IS A SHOWER WITH BOILING WATER.”
“No!” Bott shouted. “We’re a crew, remember? Over here! All of you!”
He shoved a hand in one pocket as the Klamathans grouped around him. “We’ve got one or more invisible characters in here with us.” His fingers ground together; he lowered his voice. “They’re here to force us through one of these….”
The gold’s hair floated forward a little on the left side. Bott pushed her away and reached out with his handful of crushed berries. The temptation to go for the face was resisted; farther down, there might be cloth which would hold a stain.
A dark blue smudge hung in the air for a moment. When Chlorda and Louba lunged, it disappeared.
“He’s runnin’ for it!”
“Watch what door it opens!”
The smudge showed again for a moment as its wearer looked back. This second second was the one too many. Three bodies collided at that point.
“Don’t kill it!” Bott had a grenade out in case there was evidence of a larger group. “It may be useful.”
“It’s got hair,” said Bassada, groping the invisible prisoner. “Useta have two ears!”
“I think I’ve found a swotf!” Chlorda drew something from below the smudge.
“Think I know what I found, too.” Louba pulled out a dagger she had never drawn in self-defense. “Mebbe I’ll keep it, as a souvenir.”
The Klamathans moved closer as the body struggled. Louba thumped the top of its presumed head. “Nah, more fun if I leaves it on. Cap’n’s right; he might be useful.”
“Don’t grab,” snarled the blue. “Yez’ll get yer turn.”
“I was going to check its pockets,” said Chlorda, with some dignity. “I…what’s that?”
“That” was a bump in the previously flat carpet. As they watched, it rose into a hill. “Bet back!” Bott ordered, rather unnecessarily as they began to slide. “Take him with you!”
“Hooptydoo!” Louba fell backward. “Who yanked the rug frum under me toes?”
Something hissed. Bott yanked open the satchel and dropped the grenade back in. “Where’s the rope? Did we bring it?”
“Here ‘tis,” said Louba, reaching into a pocket. “Want us ta truss him up?”
“No.” Bott took the rope; he hoped it was long enough. :Just stand right there. Bassada, you go to that corner. Chlorda, that one. Come in as the rug comes in. Pass the rope along.”
The hill continued to rise until the sides were nearly vertical. It did not fill the room. “Don’t let it tip.” He finished his loop of rope. “Keep moving.”
The lump, still hissing, continued to rie. Louba’s face shone with hope as she turned it toward the ceiling. The end of the rope came back around to Bott, and he slid it through the loop.
“Okay. Keep moving. Pull it tight and make sure to keep it above the edges of the carpet.
His heels lifted from the floor. There wasn’t much left of it but a large hole, which had stopped hissing. “Hop to it, Cap’n!” Bassada roared.
“Hoopta!” Louba agreed.
Gold hands gripped the rope just below his. Bott hoped it was long enough to accommodate all four passengers. He also hoped whatever gas was filling this cloth bubble was light enough to lift three Klamathans at once. He frowned. And an invisible saboteur as well?
His hope held, as did the rope. All his crew swung in the air. Louba was kicking at the far end. “Sorry, feller! Crew only.”
“Let him get his own balloon,” Bott called down.
“Lala!” Chlorda noted, as the ceiling opened above them. Bott leaned back to see where they were going. Knowing when to let go was going to be crucial. If they were given a chance for that at all, of course.
He forgot to let go. “Fazzlepig!” snarled Bassafa, as her eyes cleared the opening. Chlorda sighed.
It was a vast, beautiful, white room sprinkled with light grey cubes, cones, and cylinders. Bott also felt a mite discouraged at seeing this chamber again, but called down, “If we hang on, we might pass through this ceiling, too.”
“Gonna make a heckuva target,” Bassada told him.
“Captain?” Chlorda’s voice sounded congested. “Was that here before?”
She was pointing up. “Flallop!” Louba shouted.
Bott was too close to the bulge of the balloon to look straight up, and hate to wait until they had risen above the cylinders and cones, at which point the ship was too big for him to miss.
It was a BBB-44; whether it was THE BBB-44 was another question. The cargo ramp was down. “Don’t jump,” he ordered. “It may be a hologram.”
The loud hiss did not come from his crew. “Somethin’ up there’s real enough ta pop our balloon,” Louba pointed out.
“Okay, change the plan a bit,” Bott called down. “Jump!”
He obeyed himself on the word of command, considering the possibility that the ship was real but the cargo ramp was a hologram. The theory was abandoned as he landed hard on the platform. He clawed himself up before his crew could drop on him, and looked for signs that this might actually be the Dragonshelf.
“Don’t let her come along,” gasped Bassada, landing next to Chlorda. “She’ll tip it over.”
“Everyone in this crew has a role to play,” Chlorda informed her, hauling her up toward the body of the ship. “We might need an anchor.”
Bott left them to it, and raced to the cockpit. Experience in dozens of spacecraft had given him the ability to recognize any vehicle he’d flown in before. The contours of a seat, the feel of the controls, a combination of things on the periphery of vision that he could not have listed if asked—a light here, a reflection there—all combined to tell him this was NOT Nubry’s ship.
Looking up and finding the console before him was bright red with knobs shaped like flowers helped, too.
“Quite the decorator, yer sweetie,” noted Bassada, joining the captain.
“This isn’t the Dragonshelf.” Bott rose from the seat. “It’s another trick. We….”
He fell back into the seat as the ship jerked. “’At a trick too?” Louba demanded, “Or is we movin’?”
“One way to find out,” he said, leaning toward the control console.
“Do you think you can play with these toys?” Chlorda pushed past her larger companions to plop into the co-pilot seat.
“If they’re functional. I can fly anything when I’m sober and I haven’t had a drink in three days.”
He shifted a blue blossom; the shipped turned right and dipped. A grinning face appeared in the center of the flower, but he decided to ignore this. He pressed a long yellow bloom forward. The ship picked up speed.
“They….” The ship bounced, in response to no command of his.
“We ain’t alone!” Bassada dropped into another seat and pointed at a screen.
Asecond ship, guns still firing, zipped around the BBB-44. Bott sucked in his breath, then nodded. It was a replica of his own pirate ship: just the thing to amuse an Emperor. Put him under attack by a ship he might hesitate to destroy.
Bott did not feel like amusing His Imperial Worship. Judging by the other blossoms, the ones that controlled the guns should be down her, just to the right.
“Hey! ‘Ey’re callin’ us!” Bassada peered at a monitor. “Wanna see?”
It was part of the show, of course. There would be replicas of his old crew, and perhaps him as well, to plead their case. He could take it. “We’ll listen.”
She tried a couple of flowers before finding the right one. A small screen lit up, showing the cockpit of his old ship crewed with a number of nude Nubrys, looking as if they’d been liberally sprinkled with red pepper. “In the name of Thomas, Lord Fairfax,” they ordered, I unison, “Stop following us. We are taking the library ship to a safe place. Once we find it.”
Bott’s first impulse was to fire. Then he called, “Can we reply?”
“Could ‘n’ should,” Bassada replied, twisting another flower.
“Hailing the librarians,” Bott called. “Let’s look for the Dragonshelf together. Our two ships together ought to e able to blow holes in this little shooting gallery.”
The ship bounced underneath him again. “That was our last warning shot, Bott!” the Nubrys intoned. “Beware. We are armed with peteseeging missiles. Are we? Yes, we are!”
“Duno if bluetush pushed the wrong petal,” said Louba, leaning over the screen, “But it looks to me like ‘ey don’t has any ears switched on, Bottsy Cap’n.”
“They wouldn’t, of course.” Bott pulled the ship to dodge a direct shot, and reached for what he assumed were the firing flowers.
Blogsy Babbles 