A/N: So, I've been thinking... and you guys are just, like, angels. 'Cause the SB community is really small, regrettably. I can't believe anybody would like SpongeBob enough to read this stupid story, and I can't believe I liked it enough to write it. We're all just crazy, I guess. Anywho, I just want to thank you all for reviewing. It's really, really sweet of you.
I like this chapter pretty well... although it's given me no end of grief. It's not quite as long as the last one, but the chapters will be noticeably longer from now on. :)
Part Cuatro: Plots
Dr. Lankton hopped into his overstuffed chair, swiveling excitedly. "We're close, Leeny... So close I can almost taste it!"
Leeny meowed her assent.
"Shall we check up on our puppets?"
"They're not puppets, Sheldon," Karen exclaimed. She wheeled in with a tiny bottle of soda.
"Don't call me that!" he yelled. He took the soda and took a long swig. "Ahh... that hit the spot. But I will not be referred to as Sheldon Plankton ever again! That name is tied to a horrible mockery, a mockery I will never be forced to speak of again! All will bow before Peter Lankton!"
Karen didn't look impressed. "I liked Sheldon better. This new plan of yours... it reeks of failure. Profound failure. Failure so profound, your tiny head will spin at the meaning it implies..."
"Always dramatic..." Dr. Lankton muttered, sipping his soda. "It's a good plan and you know it!"
Karen clicked in frustration and hurried away.
"Now that that shrew is out of the way... it's puppet time!" He pressed a button. An image of a burned-out warehouse greeted him.
"KAREN! Pop some popcorn, please!" Karen groaned in protest. "NOW!"
"This is gonna be a good one," Dr. Lankton said, eyeing the screen. "I can tell..."
---
They were all gathered in Warehouse D-119, when the fourth of the Underground's five main members arrived after a very long absence.
"So... Toby and I are going to strike at the concert tomorrow. At the center. Don't wait up..." The smoker—Reggie—was saying quietly, a sadistic grin stretching across his face. Cameron knew that the doctor had signed him up for some sort of 'secret mission', but what it was he wasn't entirely sure... Reggie trailed off he realized the door had opened.
"Jones," Celesa said, a hint of surprise coloring her voice. She quickly folded up the notebook that she had had open on the table. The old woman nodded gravely, smiling a nervous smile, her hands clutching an antique purse. Cam shook his head. Why she was even allowed in, he would never know. Her time in the resistance had passed. For some reason, she was still clinging on.
"Hello, everyone," said Jones, still smiling insanely. From her purse, she withdrew a steaming plate covered with plastic wrap. "Cookies?"
Cam quickly lunged for the plate. If nothing else, Leticia Jones was handy in the snacks department.
For several minutes, there was only the sound of contented munching. They all needed a break.
Jones cleared her throat. They all turned. She pushed her glasses up onto her head, then swallowed.
"I've been thinking…" she began. "I've been thinking that maybe we're going about this all the wrong way."
A line of disapproval appeared on Celesa's brow. "What do you mean?"
"Well... the car wreck you all pulled made me start to think..."
Celesa waved an impatient hand. "Lord, Jones, that wasn't us. That was pea-brain Cam Willis over there, thinking he'd deviate from plans. It was a fluke."
Jones tapped her purse. "Oh. Well." She cast a nervous glance at Reggie, who had pulled out another cigarette. She cleared her throat. "Anyway... it made me start to think that maybe we've been going about it all wrong. Y'know, the whole 'wipe out the royal line' thing. There are simpler ways to hold a revolution…" Cam winced inwardly at the word. It's not a revolution. It's just revenge.
"And what would you propose?" Celesa asked, her tone dangerous.
Jones paused. "Well… you know that the real problem is Neptune. Ever since the beginning, he's been slaughtering innocents. Even now, after his new degree, he still punishes those who don't agree with him, locking them in dungeons… without the knowledge of his daughter. You know she's the one who demanded that he be more lenient…"
"We all know the story, Jones," snapped Cam. "Get to the point."
Jones continued, undaunted. "So it stands to reason that Mindy will not be the person her father was. Her reign would benefit the country. The sooner she takes the throne, the better. I'm saying that it might be wise to spare her life."
Only several moments of uncomfortable silence greeted her proposal. Cam could barely think through the cloud of indignation that gripped him. No! It was out of the question! Mindy… as Queen? His finger curled unconsciously again, twisting in their bandages. He winced as bits of glass pinched his wounds. He still hadn't had a chance to rinse them out.
At last, Celesa spoke. "That's preposterous."
Jones continued quickly, her words rushing out. "Hear me out. I say we warn the princess of what will come. Give her time to get out of the way. Then you can do whatever you want." She sat down hurriedly, clutching her purse.
Cam looked anxiously at Celesa, trying to gauge her reaction. Her gaze remained the same, cold and determined. He admired her, in more ways than one. But the fact that she would even think about considering such a ridiculous idea made his stomach bunch into knots...
At last Celesa looked up and said in a stiff voice, "And you would want her to take the throne afterwards?"
Jones fidgeted. "She would be a wise and kind ruler. I think it would be for the best..."
Celesa pursed her lips tightly. "Monarchies breed corruption. That's our whole focus right now: the abolishment of the monarchy... to develop a free state of democracy. It will make little difference whether or not Mindy is 'a wise and kind ruler.' To say that one person is over everyone else in the country is just wrong." Celesa shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't see the advantages of sparing her."
Jones frowned. "I suppose..."
Cam smiled widely at Celesa. She didn't return his gesture. Reggie drummed his fingers on his knee.
Jones left soon after.
No one guessed that her crusade was far from over.
---
The sun was bright in the morning sky, glinting off the white alabaster of the palace walls. Flags snapped from the high turrets, casting flickering, jumping shadows on the ground below. It wasn't an ominous setting, but every movement seemed like a warning to Dennis. The gates groaned and hissed as they were cranked upward. Dennis marched across the courtyard, his long strides quickly covering the gap. His hands were jammed in a long black jacket, which blew out silently to reveal several knives and a handgun. His mouth was set in a grim line, a vein on his temple throbbing. If nothing else, he was prepared.
He slipped quietly into the palace, hurrying up the steps two at a time. He twisted down several corridors till he arrived at Mindy's door. He raised his fist to knock, but the door swung open before he made contact. He stood face to face with a young maid, a load of towels in her arms. She wore the King's livery of purple and gold, and a smaller version of Kalid's beret was cocked on her brown hair. She scowled at him slightly.
"The princess is asleep," she said gently, with a faint German accent. She shifted the bundle of towels in her arm.
"When will she wake up?" he asked impatiently.
"I don't know, sir." Dennis began to step around her, but the maid quickly and quietly closed the door, her eyes never leaving his.
"Don't go in there, sir. She wouldn't want to be disturbed."
"And what business did you have being there?"
She scowled and clasped her bundle. "I'm a laundry maid, sir."
His eyes rested on the heap of towels. "No clothes?"
"No, sir." She glanced downward.
He stepped aside and she hurried around him. As she passed, his elbow jutted out and the pile of laundry fell to the ground. The maid moved her hands to her face in a silent cry. There, half-hidden by a white towel, was a knife, its point gleaming in the weak sunlight.
He stared at it, eyes wide. He had expected her to be hiding something of substantial worth, an expensive comb or any little thing of value. He had seen cleaning maids stuff their pockets full of little pieces of jewelry, nothing that would be missed at once… but…
The girl was near hysterics, tiny gasps and sobs making her words slurred and nearly indiscernible.
"It was nothing, sir! I know what you're thinking, but you mustn't…! It was harmless… but I… I didn't know why… but… she said! She said that they could help me… my brother, my brother is in prison and it wasn't his fault. They could get him out! And I believed her! She said… she said! And now… now I've been caught and I'll go to the dungeons with him! You will tell… you will. But it wasn't anything… it was harmless…"
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Her talk scared him.
"What in Neptune's name did you do?" he half-whispered, half-screamed.
She trembled violently. "It wasn't nothin', sir. She… she told me if I just did this… my brother, my poor brother…" She wept with fresh sobs. "Please understand… I-I would never hurt the princess!"
"Who are you talking about?"
She shivered. "I don't know much, except that she knew my brother. She said that something was going to happen soon and if I cooperated, they would help Christopher. It was nothing though, sir. No harm!" She laughed nervously and cursed in German.
Soundlessly, Dennis slipped into Mindy's room. She was soundly sleeping in a canopied bed; he sighed visibly with relief. His eyes searched the room, then rested on a doll lying in the chair. It had been stabbed several times, and its head was torn completely off. Lying beside it was a note…
"Please, sir, come out of there!" she wailed. "Don't let her wake!"
Dennis seized the note and doll and strode out. Eyes flaming, he threw the headless doll at her feet. He shut the door quickly, briefly speculating that Mindy was a sound sleeper.
"What is the meaning of this?" he said, on the brink of an explosion.
"I… I believe it's a warning, sir. That's what I was told. Just read the note."
It read: 'The tides are shifting. Your kingdom is doomed, and your only hope is to flee. The time draws near. Which is more important: your throne? Or your life?'
It was typewritten. It began to crackle as Dennis's hands shook. This is real…
"She talked to me last night, after work…" the maid began. "She was pretty old. She said she was with the group that Chris joined last year... Underground. She showed me a picture of Chris with all of the other members and her. I was pretty sure it was real. But Chris was... arrested by the king less than a year ago. He was innocent, sir, I swear it! Anyway... she said that once the monarchy was toppled, the prisoners would be set free, and the Underground would personally assure of Christopher's safety. I... I wanted to believe her... so much. I guess that's why I did it... Plus she offered me money... something we sorely need right now... She just told me to make sure the princess got the note and to make it as... convincing as possible. And not to get caught..." The girl burst into a fresh round of quiet tears. "Please..."
"Did you know their names? The ones in the... Underground?"
"Yeah... There's a guy named Toby. He was about Chris's age, I guess, no more than 21. But I can't tell you much else… There were two other guys in the picture, though... The old woman... And another girl..."
Dennis thought back quickly to the shady group of people outside of the hospital... Three men... One girl... and Jones...
Toby... He rolled the name around his mouth, testing it. It didn't sound familiar. He'd definitely remember it now, though...
Dennis fingered the note, his heart thumping. Waves of nausea rolled through him, but he fought it and leveled his voice.
"Did she specify what they had 'planned'?"
"No… no, sir… that woman sounded like she didn't want them to hurt her... but I can only imagine… but… because I took her money… you won't… please, sir, just don't tell the king! I would never hurt anyone! I just…"
"You're an accomplice to them," he hissed. "Which makes you guilty of treason…"
"But… but…" Her eyes took on a sudden gleam. "What if—what if I told you…"
"Told me what?"
"She told me to make sure it got to Mindy quick because she was afraid that something was going to happen tonight... at a... concert? Does that mean anything?"
Dennis leaned against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face. Tonight was the concert… he glanced down at the doll.
"Get that thing out of here and we'll forget it ever happened…"
She beamed with joy, gathering up the knife and towels as well. "You won't regret it, sir! I promise!" She was gone.
Tonight! He unconsciously fingered his own knife, going over the new revelation again and again in his mind. Was the old lady Jones? 'The time draws near...' Those same words had been used with the note he had received last night. How was Jones mixed up in all this? Did it make sense that she would belong to a group that wanted Mindy dead... and then turn around and warn her?
But one thing was for sure... There was a danger, against Mindy, against the whole kingdom… But what should he do with this knowledge? Mindy should know… Then he paused, remembering what Kalid had said in the carriage… about how Mindy's safety was a touchy subject… Maybe… He shook his head, thinking. Well, he wouldn't tell her first…
Better to let the Council know immediately. They'd know what to do…
---
Dennis polished the blade of his knife with an oiled cloth, quick rhythmic strokes across its smooth surface till he could see a reflection. He was leaning against the wall, his mind racing wildly. He fished the note out of his pocket. '…Your kingdom? Or your life?…' Was Jones only giving her until tonight to decide? Would it really be at the concert? If only…
The doors to the Council chambers burst open and Kalid stood there timidly. He shut the doors behind him quickly and took a deep breath.
"Your request for an audience has been refused," he said very quietly.
"Did you—"
"Yes, I told them you claimed to have substantial evidence about a plot, but they won't hear it."
Dennis's fury escalated rapidly and he flung the note at Kalid.
"They won't hear it!" he yelled. "They refuse, do they? Of course they wouldn't want to hear that despite their best security efforts, their princess is still in danger!" He scowled fiercely and ran a quick hand through his dark hair. Kalid let out an exasperated sigh.
"Dennis… I hate to say this… But it's not unusual to get an occasional 'odd' letter. Royalty are becoming more like celebrities in power. And not everyone loves all celebrities, now do they?"
Dennis fought back the urge to wring him by his scrawny little neck…
"So that's it, then?" he growled. "They don't believe me. You don't believe me." He couldn't tell Kalid about the girl without getting her in trouble, and he doubted if she was even still in the palace. He didn't even know her name.
"Here's my advice: take it easy for the next few days. You've been taking care of Mindy ever since the accident. I think it's gone to your head…"
Dennis set his lips in a grim line, and once more an image of Mindy, pale and covered with blood, filled his head. No!
"If you won't help me, I'll protect her myself…" he muttered fiercely, exiting the room. Kalid bit his lip nervously, wringing his cap in his hands…