Trouble in Warp Space (7 page)

“Hold it, you!” Joe called. The man didn’t stop.

The stalker wasn’t nearly as fast as the brothers, and Frank and Joe soon closed the short distance between them. Before Frank could grab him, though, the man spun on them.

He was lean and wore baggy pants and a T-shirt with a
Warp Space
logo. He seemed to be about the same age and height as the Hardys, though not as muscular. His black, curly hair fell over his darting eyes, and he regarded them with a wild look. He held a key ring in one fist, like makeshift brass knuckles, and assumed a defensive fighting stance. In his other hand, he held a cell phone.

“I’ll call the cops!” he said.

“Go ahead,” Joe replied. “Then you can explain to them why you were stalking those women.”

“You’re crazy,” the man said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We saw you following Jerri Bell, Claudia Rajiv, and their friend,” Frank said.

“Why would I need to stalk them?” the man said. “I see them at work every day.”

Frank and Joe exchanged a puzzled glance. “Who are you?” Joe asked.

“None of your business,” the man said, growing bolder. “Now, scram, or I make that call.”

“Be our guest,” Frank said.

Before the man could punch the number into the phone, though, the back door of the club opened and Chet and the women came through.

“Matt Stiller?” Jerri Bell said, surprised.

“You mean you really
do
know this guy?” Joe asked.

Claudia laughed. “Sure we know him,” she said. “He’s a coffee boy and gofer at the studio. I’m surprised you didn’t see him around today.”

Stiller puffed out his chest. “See?” he said. “You guys are crazy, just like I said.”

“But you were stalking Jerri and Claudia,” Chet said. “We saw you.”

“A lot of the crew hang out here,” Stiller said confidently.

“I have to admit,” Jerri said, giggling, “the idea of Matt stalking us is pretty ridiculous.”

“Well, he was definitely keeping an eye on you,” Joe said.

“I was trying to figure out if I should come over and join your party,” Stiller said. “Now I’m really glad I didn’t.” Turning to Claudia and Jerri, he said, “These guys are creeps. You shouldn’t be hanging out with them.”

Claudia Rajiv smiled indulgently. “Don’t worry about us, Matt,” she said. “We’re all grown-up now. We can take care of ourselves.”

“Well, be careful anyway,” Stiller said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked down the alleyway.

“Wow,
that
was strange,” Iola said.

“I’m certain he was secretly watching you girls most of the time we were in the restaurant,” Frank said.

“Maybe he was just working up the nerve to ask us to a dance,” Jerri suggested.

“Or he could have a secret crush on Jerri,” Claudia said. “Nearly everyone does.”

Jerri rolled her blue eyes. “Honestly, Claudia, I almost think you’re jealous.”

Claudia laughed. “All right,” she said, “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one evening. Let’s pay our tab and get some rest. Makeup call is early.”

•  •  •  

Though Chet got up early, Iola and the Hardys slept in a bit, then went to the studio commissary for breakfast. As they entered, they spotted Matt Stiller leaving with a trayful of coffee cups. Stiller pointedly ignored them, and the three friends walked past him to get their meals. Iola and the brothers talked quietly over their pancakes and eggs.

Frank frowned. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I still think
someone
is trying to sabotage this show.”

“Ramon Torres is my prime suspect,” Joe said. “He’s obviously upset about the way things have gone. He thought he’d get to play the Slayer if Wilson got hurt.”

“It was his bad luck that Chet fit the costume better,” Iola said. “What about that Stiller guy, though? I think you were right about him stalking Claudia and Jerri.”

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Stiller is definitely in the running. Rich Millani is a good suspect, too. He works with the props and the electrical equipment. That gives him opportunity for both the light accident and the blaster.”

“But he was at the hospital with Peck Wilson when I tripped,” Iola said.

Joe leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “That’s a good alibi, though he could have
moved the cable earlier. With the fire, everyone might have overlooked it. Or, I suppose, it could have been a normal accident.” He sighed. “We’ll just have to stay on our toes.”

“And try to make sure no one else gets hurt,” Frank said.

“Well, you can count on me,” Iola said. Joe gave her a quick hug.

As they finished eating, Chet chugged in with his Slayer helmet under his arm. “Hey, guys, just picking up a soda before shooting. You wouldn’t believe how hot this suit is. You want to catch my first scene of the day?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Joe said. They picked up Chet’s drink, then headed for the door. Sandy O’Sullivan breezed in just as they were leaving.

“Chet,” she said, smiling, “I’m so glad I caught you. Here are today’s pages.” She handed him a dozen or so sheets of paper. “Peck might be back as early as tomorrow, so enjoy your time in the costume.”

“Loving every minute,” Chet said, smiling back.

“Oh, and, Iola, if you’d like to do some more walk-throughs, let me know, and we’ll have Stan suit you up in something.”

“That might be fun,” Iola said. “What kind of aliens do you need in upcoming scenes?”

“Walk with me and I’ll fill you in,” Sandy said. “I
have to get some pages to Jerri—she always wants time to ‘get into character.’”

Iola followed Sandy as she swept out of the cafeteria. “Catch you all in a bit,” she said, waving to the Hardys and Chet.

They waved back and headed for the main soundstage. They arrived to find Rich Millani working furiously on one of the big control panels on the ship’s bridge. Bruce Reid, Claudia Rajiv, and other cast members were standing around, studying their scripts, waiting for the problem to be corrected. Rod Webb was clutching a coffee cup so tightly that it was a wonder the cup didn’t burst.

“How much longer?” Webb asked through clenched teeth. “The studio accountants are looking over our shoulders, you know.”

“I’m working as fast as I can,” Millani said.

“I’m here, Mr. Webb,” Chet announced.

“Oh, good,” said Ramon Torres, who was waiting with the rest of the actors. “Maybe you can help Rich fix the control panel.”

“Cut the chatter, Torres,” Webb said. “You’d be better off studying your part.”

“But I don’t have any lines,” Torres replied.

“Lucky us,” Webb said.

Torres crossed his arms over his chest and shot an angry look at Chet and the Hardys, as if they were at fault for his embarrassment.

It took another ten minutes for Rich Millani to correct the problem. Then shooting began at a furious pace.

As the morning wore on, tensions on the set grew. Actors flubbed more lines than they had the day before, and everyone acted nervous between takes. Chet, though, performed well.

“It’s easy for me,” he said during a break. “I don’t have any lines.”

“You do get to make a lot of threatening gestures, though,” Iola observed. She had finished with makeup and was now a green-skinned alien from Betelgeuse.

The Mortons performed in several other scenes, including one where Iola and the other starship crew fled down a corridor away from the invading Slayer from Sirius.

Most of the principal actors were working this day. Jerri Bell and Geoff Gross appeared shortly after lunch and had to wait through a problem with the set lighting. Frank and Joe watched carefully but saw no sign of anyone causing trouble.

The light problem made the pace even more frantic. Between takes, Sandy O’Sullivan worked with Webb to try to tighten the storyline, to save shooting time and costs. They moved from the corridor set to the engine room for the next scene—a fight in which Lieutenant Commander Ravenscroft saved Ensign Allura from the Slayer.

“This is a great scene,” Sandy whispered to the Hardys and Iola just before the final preparations were complete. “Chet’s lucky he gets to play it.”

“That’s my brother,” Iola said. “Just one big lucky guy.”

Jerri Bell gave Chet a friendly smile. “Ready to go?” she asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” Chet said, his reply muffled under the Slayer from Sirius helmet.

“Good luck,” Jerri said, giving him a kiss on the side of the helmet and taking her place on the set.

The scenes with Bell and Gross went well, with both actors requiring few takes to hit their marks and get their lines down. Chet’s lumbering entrance into the engine room went like a dream, too. He fired his Sirian blaster, and Bell’s Ensign Allura fell to the floor, unconscious.

Gross, in his Lieutenant Commander Ravenscroft role, charged the Slayer. Chet swung around and, as planned in the script, swung the Slayer’s armored fist toward Ravenscroft’s face. But Chet and Gross miscalculated the blow.

Instead of coming up short, Chet’s fist clipped the side of Gross’s face. The Spacefleet officer fell to the engine room floor.

Before Webb could yell cut or Chet could apologize, Gross scrambled to his feet and smashed his shoulder into Chet’s stomach.

Chet staggered backward, more surprised than hurt. He dropped his blaster and landed heavily against one of the engine room consoles. As he hit the set, he pushed Gross away from him. The actor staggered but didn’t go down. Instead, he came up swinging.

Instinctively, Chet brought up his hands and blocked the punch. Gross threw a couple of jabs at Chet’s midsection, but the blows slid off the Slayer’s fiberglass armor.

“Keep rolling!” Webb yelled. “This is great!”

“It’s not in the script,” Sandy said, a note of distress in her voice.

“Who cares, so long as they don’t hurt each other,” Webb replied. “It’s perfect! Gross, Morton,
keep going! We’ll worry about removing the set noise in post-production.”

Because Chet’s face was hidden, the Hardys couldn’t tell if he was concerned, but both brothers and Iola exchanged anxious glances. “Should we step in?” Joe whispered.

“I think Chet can handle himself,” Frank replied.

“I hope he clobbers Gross!” Iola whispered.

If the Slayer’s armor offered Chet some protection, it also slowed him down. Gross jabbed at him and then moved away as Chet swung clumsily at the muscular actor.

Gross aimed a kick at the Slayer’s midsection. Chet caught the lieutenant commander’s boot and heaved. Gross went sprawling, barely missing hitting his head on the warp core panel. He got back up with fire in his eyes.

“You may come from Sirius,” Gross said, “but let’s see how you like an old-fashioned Iowa knuckle sandwich!” The actor’s punch clattered against the Slayer’s helmet, and Chet staggered back.

“Great ad-lib!” Webb shouted. “We’ll keep it.”

“Rod,” Sandy said, “I don’t think our insurance company would like this.”

“Just a little more,” the director countered. “It’s only improvisation.”

Jerri Bell, lying on the floor of the engine room, whispered, “If one of them steps on me, I’m taking
the rest of the day off!” She kept her eyes closed and hardly moved her lips when she spoke. Several stagehands, including Matt Stiller, chuckled. The coffee boy had paused in his gofer duties to watch the fight.

Chet blocked Gross’s next punch and warded off a kick with the Slayer’s right shin guard. Chet countered with a powerful shove. Gross staggered back into a panel, which shorted out in a display of sparks.

“Great!” Webb yelled.

Snarling, Gross ran forward, but this time Chet was ready for him. When Gross came in, Chet ducked and grabbed the front of the lieutenant commander’s uniform. With a mighty heave, he lifted Gross off the floor like a pro wrestler about to body slam an opponent.

“Marvelous!” Webb cried.

Chet tried to throw Gross, but the actor grabbed the collar of the Slayer’s armor. As Chet lurched under the actor’s weight, Gross slammed his knee into the Slayer’s helmet.

The assembled cast and crew gasped. Chet staggered to his knees. Gross twisted out of his grasp and kicked Chet in his armored chest. The Slayer fell over backward with a resounding thud. Gross moved in, ready to kick him again.

“That’s enough,” Joe said. Before Gross could follow through, Joe and Frank stepped in front of
the cameras and between the enraged actor and their friend. Gross glared at them.

“Cut!” Webb yelled. “Cut! Who said those two could step in? They wrecked my shot.”

“Um, Rod . . .” Sandy said, holding up her script and pointing to a section of it.

Webb slapped his forehead. “Right! Right!” he said. “Geoff, didn’t you read the script? You don’t defeat the Slayer in this scene.”

“Sorry,” Gross said. “I guess I got carried away.” He stepped back and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“Don’t worry about it,” Webb said, beaming. “We’ll figure out a different ending, right, Sandy?”

“Um, sure,” Sandy said.

Webb was still smiling. “This,” he said, “is why I always keep three cameras rolling.”

Chet lay on his back, wriggling like an overturned tortoise. He pulled off his helmet. “Help me!” he said. “This suit isn’t made for getting up.”

Joe and Frank gave him a hand. “You okay, Chet?” Frank whispered.

“I’m fine,” Chet said. “I just couldn’t move in the costume is all.”

As Chet rose, the impromptu audience of cast and crew applauded. “Good work, Morton,” Bruce Reid said.

Jerri Bell got up from the engine room floor and dusted herself off. “Peck Wilson could hardly have
done better,” she said. “Though next time I hope you boys will tell me when you’re going to improvise. That way, I can fall in a more comfortable position.” She rubbed her hip where she had landed on it.

“Are you kidding?” Geoff Gross said. “This guy is an accident waiting to happen. He could have hurt me with some of those stunts.”

“That goes double for you,” Chet said. “You were the one who started it. And I think you may have cracked the helmet.”

“Better the helmet than your head,” Iola said quietly.