On the ground floor
Princess Lucidity was not as alone as she would have liked as she burst through the double-doors leading out from the stairwell, laser pistol thrust forward in the grip of both hands. The unwelcome entourage she led included Jenny Everywhere, who had insisted on coming to the point that if the Princess had tried to use the Wand of Principality to stop her, she’d have “blown her damn hand off first”; Marieka the barbarian, who had likewise threatened to slit her throat (this time a little too close for comfort) and the other Jenny Everywhere from the second floor who had quite literally bumped into her on the stairs. It was quite understandable for her to be here, but the other two… they would never learn. It was no use reminding them about the healing nanites in her bloodstream or the two spare bodies in the basement if they tried anything. It was no use trying to point out she was risking her current one for their benefit. Their primitive minds could not grasp such basic common sense.
Briefly surveying the scene that lay before her as the antiquated overhead lights she’d switched on from behind the door reluctantly spat out their emissions one by one, Lucidity noticed that the door to the empty side-office behind reception was open ajar, its light already on, and with her peripheral vision just to say managed to see a flash of scarlet outside the front door to accompanied by the sound of a frantic rush of stiletto heels. Looking around, she had only just managed to see a couple of telltale bullet holes in the wall opposite the office before having to swiftly duck behind the door as several more rounds came flying, thankfully without much thought as to where they were aimed. Before anyone had any chance to say anything, a javelin sailed past, embedding itself in the reception desk. Typical of Marieka to act on base instinct- skewer first, ask questions later. She would be the death of them all one day. The temporary occupant of the office had nothing more to respond with but the frantic but the futile clicking of the trigger mechanism of an empty-chambered gun- clearly her twenty-first century mind was not much more evolved. Before she would even have chance to remove the empty magazine, Lucidity intervened with quick-fire reasoning.
“If you don’t mind… Miss Lastrange,” she said, careful to make sure she addressed her opponent with the correct assumed name to avoid further misgivings, “perhaps we could proceed without further violence? I’m sure the walls would prefer not to have any more holes in them before tomorrow.”
“Screw that,” whispered Marieka. “Let’s just kill the b-“
“Hold your tongue, cavewoman,” Princess Lucidity interrupted, “and let your betters do the talking. No-one asked for your input-“
A sharp prod in the small of Lucidity’s back was enough to put an end to any further scolding. The Princess would have preferred for Marieka to not press that particular point- metaphorically and literally- any further. It had rather hurt the last time. So perhaps it would be wisest to save her energies on Lady Deleval:
“Ahem… Miss Lastrange? If you don’t mind?”
A glimpse of head could be seen peeking around the open door, only to disappear again.
Meanwhile, on the third floor…
“Makie, dear, why not do us a favour and put the kettle on, or something? I know you’re scared but I’d rather have my arm back sometime tonight.” Megan’s words, however reassuring their tone, were largely wasted as the other girl’s vice-like grip held fast.
“B- but it’s not safe…” Makie whimpered… “and I need you… to protect me…”
“Don’t be daft girl,” Megan insisted. “I’m sure the others can manage it. You don’t think I’m not scared too? After all I’ve been through?”
“O- OK, Mejie…” Makie agreed with some reluctance, slightly relaxing her grip.
The room returned to its previous awkward silence for some moments, punctuated by the odd awkward glance.
It was finally broken by a gentle knock at the door, which promptly opened and in walked Alice.
“Hope you lot don’t mind me popping in for a brief while, you know… I’m afraid I couldn’t sleep with the awful racket downstairs…” She paused upon realising there were two very unfamiliar faces in the room looking at her.
“Sorry… new faces… hello… nice to meet you… I’m Alice, Alice Jane… I mean if I remembered you were coming, I’d…” She looked down at her clothing, feeling rather embarrassed at not being properly dressed.
“Hi,” said Mike, Mike Moheden, don’t know if you’ve heard of me…”
“Not everybody has,” Laura whispered to him in Lyniezian, before turning back to Alice. “‘Nisi, I’m Laura Mycarina,” she went on – her English, though clear, intoned with a strong Clochan accent – “and we shan’t be bothering you for long, Miss Alice. Don’t worry about us.”
That what she’d told them hadn’t sunk in was hardly any comfort to Makie, who was too troubled to say anything else. She was beginning to worry for Laura as much as herself. Proud Laura, didn’t she realise the danger she was in? That there would be no possible chance of escape?
In fact, nobody knew quite was to say, until Santa decided that after all this unpleasantness, the mood needed to be lightened somehow.
“I distinctly recall someone mentioned tea,” he boomed. “Would anyone fancy a cup?”
“Ra-ther,” added Arty. “Though since the cat’s away, you couldn’t perhaps sneak me a bottle of Brown, old chap? Strictly under the table? Please?”
“No trouble at all, my boy! I am the bringer of good things, am I not?”
“Erm… well, since I’m up…” said Alice, desperate not to be any more trouble. “Just the half a teaspoon though if you don’t mind, thanks. I’ll be needing the sleep sometime tonight.” She gingerly took a spare seat at the table. “Although if this commotion goes on…”
(Another half dozen shots and a crunch from downstairs could not have been worse timed for such words.)
“… I think I’d prefer a G&T instead!”
“Yes, er… please,” said Laura, trying to remember how English manners went. “If, as you say, it’s no trouble. I’d like the Simsonai yamen- sorry, Samson Extra Strong Blend, two spoonfuls, Lyniezian style without the milk, you know… and if you have any plum cake to go with it, I really haven’t eaten much all day…”
“Afraid we’ve only got biscuits,” Santa told her. “And tons of lebkuchen. Despite who I am, I wonder about the Author and why He seems so fond of the stuff…”
“I’m not sure what lebkuchen is, but I’ll try it, thank you,” Laura replied.
Mike was too busy thinking how much Alice reminded him of his Aunt Lucy, back when he was a boy, and she was 20 years younger. Even down to the way she spoke, the feigned ‘received pronunciation’ tone to hide her natural Yorkshire accent, and the way she was always flustered when trying hard to compose herself. She’d been like that at the funeral, the poor woman. Uncle George had only been 66…
A sharp elbow-jab in the ribs from Laura brought him back to reality.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.
Meanwhile, on the ground floor…
“We can be here all night, Miss Lastrange,” Princess Lucidity shouted towards the half-open door.
The sound of clicking as one magazine was emptied and another loaded was the only reply.
“Or if you insist,” the Princess went on, “I can always vaporize that door you’re hiding behind. And possibly much of the wall. I don’t think it’s a supporting wall, thankfully for us. Which is it to be, Miss Lastrange?”
More clicking followed.
“Or perhaps it’s Lady Delaval?”
After a pause, came a reply:
“Lady Delaval, madam, is dead. As will you be, unless I see weapons on the ground and hands on heads.”
Princess Lucidity laughed a haughty laugh. “I do think we rather have the advantage, milady,” she exclaimed.
“Perhaps one of us could try, Your Highness?” asked one of the Jenny Everywheres, the one that wasn’t dressed.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I can handle this,”
“She does have a point,” piped up the other Jenny. “Perhaps a change of tack?”
“I’ve got several points and I wanna shove them all into Princess Thunder-Thighs there…”
A deft half-turn from ‘Princess Thunder-Thighs’ followed and Marieka found a sharp jolt of lightning sending her collapsing helpless to the floor.
“I did tell you not to call me that again,” Princess Lucidity exclaimed, neck craned round to face the fallen barbarian. “And I told you what would happen!”
“And I’ll… do it… again…” moaned Marieka, half-insensible.
As they were arguing amongst themselves, they barely noticed the sound of heels clattering across tarmac, followed by a car door slamming and the vehicle it was attached to madly screeching away. The Princess turned towards the front door and saw its tail-lights flash as it turned the corner out of sight. A faint smile appeared in the corner of her mouth. She’ll be back, she thought. In, let’s see, about thirty seconds? And then the fun really begins…
In the basement…
“Ak!” said a small, wizened looking figure which had just entered through a door from what would otherwise have been the boiler-room, half-dragging a taller, cloak-wrapped figure behind it. “Gakarit sogmoth! This not Mekkrit home! Tokgrotrit merat… strange magic! All over valley, hyoomahn! Not know where Mekkrit is, one night! Mekkrit drive mad soon! Come on, come on, stupid hyoomahn…”
“Oh, let me sit down, foul creature!” moaned the cloak-wrapped figure. “Let me sit down and rest a while…”
“Stupid hyoomahn! Not let yeggrahtik eat you, Mekkrit will not! Is right behind you! Hurry, Mekkrit close door!”
The cloak-wrapped figure, none the wiser about the complete lack of danger she and the goblin were in fact in, shuffled through as the goblin scurried and closed the door against the warm, droning metal behemoth that lay beyond. In front of them, a faint glow from a mysterious, magical set of lights shining down from the ceiling shone down onto a tiled floor and walls, the walls somewhat shinier than the floor, and beyond a low wall, dull silvery pipes with strange knobs and other things attached to them were attached to an outer wall. Along the other walls ran slatted wooden benches and a row of metal hooks, some of which had damp, skimpy-looking garments and some other pieces of material hanging from them, attached to a wooden rack. Doors could be seen in several of the walls. None of this mattered to the cloak-wrapped figure, who collapsed onto the floor, rested her back uncomfortably up against one of the wooden benches, and proceeded to catch her breath.
Several loud noises could be heard from above, sending the goblin scurrying under one of the benches in fear of her life. The cloak-wrapped figure pulled her hood over her ears, hands clasped around her head, hoping the nightmare would soon end.
On the third floor…
“So, Alice,” Megan asked, hoping it would lighten the mood, “how’d your little excursion into the woods go? Get any nice shots?”
“Oh, definitely! I took several red squirrels, a couple of woodpeckers, and – I kid you not- a most unusual thing! An actual, real live herd of mammoths! Would you believe it! All the worlds they’re extinct in…”
“Howsh other-Jennee?” slurred Makie, one arm still gripping in vice-like fashion to an ever-reluctant Megan’s arm, the other slamming the glass which had held her fourth gin and tonic down onto the formica-surface of the table, which wobbled on its thin metal legs under the sudden pressure.
“Other-Jenny is doing fine, Miss Marieka,” Alice said, using Makie’s proper name as was her custom. “Well, tired and frustrated really, but who can blame her, I suppose.”
“Please forgive me If I’m losing my hearing, or if my English is a bit… rusty, as you say over there, but did you actually say mammoths?” asked Laura, who was privately wondering just how much of a madhouse this building was. “I thought they were extinct, in the real world…”
“She won’t belieeeeve you,” Makie half-sang. “Gizza notha glass, willya pleeese…”
Alice reluctantly poured her a fifth, frowning.
“You’ve had enough,” Megan scolded, tugging on her arm.
“No I haven’t! Way no!” sang Makie.
Alice drained her own, before turning to Laura in an attempt at explaining:
“Well, I suppose they are, though it depends on which world you mean, and what you mean by real. I mean, I’m sure Jenny- my Jenny, that is- you’ll meet them both soon enough I’m sure- will tell you all about the dimensions and probabilities and quantum thingummy-doodahs. But there are, as far as I can remember, an infinite number of possible worlds. Everything it’s possible for her blessed Author- or should I say cursed- to imagine!”
“I was under the impression there was just the one,” Laura replied.
“Well if you don’t believe me, just wait until I develop the prints tomorrow and see if you believe me! The camera never lies! Which, strictly isn’t entirely true, but then, I don’t do celebrity photoshoots, so mine doesn’t. So there.”
“I really must cut back on my work schedule,” Laura said in Lyniezian, turning to Mike. “Or see that psycho-specialist old Doctor Menai keeps telling me I should see about my ‘work stress’. I could swear either this place is insane, or I am.”
“Seems real enough to me,” is all Mike could reply, before taking a swig from his ale-bottle.
“You would say that, wouldn’t you! Some friend you are!”
“Ey! Mikey-boy! Whenya done, do us ‘Across the Distance’!” yelled Makie.
Mike, taken aback, looked across at the small, drunken, colourfully-attired girl sat opposite him, turned back to Laura and whispered:
“Actually, you’re completely right. The place is stark raving bonkers.”
The pair could barely contain a mutual fit of laughter.
Outside, the squealing of tyres and the roar of an engine could be heard as a car sped off into the night.
Moments later, the same noise could be heard, this time getting closer.
Everybody, besides Makie who had collapsed face-first onto the table, rushed over to the window to see the commotion…
Tales of Lyniezia 