Chapter 16: Coronation
T-41 days, 15 hours, 25 minutes and 1 second (May 2, 8:35 AM EDT).
The Orlac family estate of Gogol was located near Bear Mountain in northwestern Connecticut. Francine usually used the helicopter to approach it, but the black limousine was using the long country road on this early May morning. The car had earlier passed immense farm lands separated from each other by narrow strips of native forest, the former cared for by teams of automated machines, but now the terrain consisted only of scattered bushes, all in a rather unhealthy state. Ahead on a hill was the three-story mansion. The only sound to be heard was the quiet hum of the car's nuclear engine and the crunch of tires on gravel. There was not a bird, chipmunk, or any other sign of animal life to be seen. The sky was overcast. It had always been overcast, and it would always be overcast.
"We have a little more time," said the car's passenger. "Neither Nimnul nor Francine have told me about the history of this place."
"You're in luck-I've heard every story ever told about Gogol. In the beginning, this was all one big forest, the 'Dark Entry Forest', because it was so thick no light ever reached the ground.
"The Mohicans say that one day the spirit of the dead was passing through the area and wanted to rest, so he raised up the Coltsfoot Triplets range to rest his head, and Bald Mountain and Woodbury Mountain to put his feet on. These three mountains shut out the sun for most of the day, making Dark Entry Forest even darker.
"The English moved into the area in the 1600's, leading to plagues for the Mohicans and witch hunts for the English. The last witchcraft trials held in New England were for Winifred Benham and her daughter. The judge could not prove that the two women were or were not witches, so he issued a verdict of 'not proven'. The Benhams after the trial moved up here to settle where two ley-lines crossed, and Gogol sits on the site of their cabin. Francine is a direct descendant of those two.
"After the deaths of the Benhams, the three Dudley brothers built Dudleytown in 1740 on the very land we're driving through now. It is said that the brothers were descended from the Dudley lords of England, who were cursed by King Henry VIII for their plots against him. Dudleytown soon became known as a place where people did horrible things, and in every case the criminals would tell anyone that would listen that they were driven by visions of demons and weird animals emanating from a hole in the earth that some said was a portal to the Underworld." The car was entering the driveway, so the driver was forced to omit all the juicy details of the curse in action. "Then the trees all died, and the animals for ten miles around abandoned the place, and Mister Orlac won Dudleytown in a drunken poker game and rather than admit he'd made a mistake, he razed the town and built his third mansion here so nobody would have to look at his not-sons, and oh look, we're here, so that's the end of the tour."
The limo pulled up to the door. Out of the driver's door stepped Lou, wearing the most elaborate lab coat ever devised. It was made of cloth of gold and covered with seven different kinds of precious stones. Written on the back in a trail of small glittering diamonds, the name "NIMNUL" was written like the man was a prizefighter.
The driver ran over to the passenger compartment and opened the door, allowing a large man in a plain blue suit to exit. The man, former Assistant Director of The Company Aldus Klaudaine, tapped the side of his head significantly.
Lou sighed. "Do I have to?"
"I didn't pick the costume, Comrade Lou. Nimnul did."
"Alright." Lou went back in the car and came out with an enormous crown on his head, nearly half Lou's own height.
Klaudaine crossed his arms and looked Lou up and down. "You look good."
"I feel ridiculous."
"Well of course you feel ridiculous. All tsars should feel ridiculous. Keeps more heads attached to necks."
While they were talking, a large black van had pulled up behind the limousine, and from it had emerged a camera crew. The driver of the van, Bud, walked over to Lou and Klaudaine and started laughing.
"That's got to be the silliest outfit I have ever seen! You gotta let me take a picture before this is all over."
Klaudaine wasn't laughing. In a voice loud enough to be heard by the camera crew, he declared, "That is not the tone you should be using when addressing the Emperor of Earth and the Protector of the Moon. I demand that you apologize to Emperor-Elect Norton this instant!"
Bud was taken aback. "Err...right, Emperor-Elect Norton. Will you accept my most humble apology?" He even went down on one knee.
Lou giggled. "Heh, what if I don't want to accept it?" he declared for the crowd.
Klaudaine "accidentally" jabbed him in the ribs. "Watch it, Emperor-Elect," he hissed. "You may look close enough to the real thing for today, but you most certainly don't sound like him."
"Oh, all right," Lou replied in a low voice. Reaching back into the car he produced a two-foot long scepter/mace. "I forgive you. Arise, Sir Loin of Beef!" and he bonked Bud on the head. "Arise, Earl of Cloves!" Another bonk. "Arise..."
Klaudaine grabbed the scepter. "You will be quitting the 'Looney Tooning', yes?" he whispered sharply. In a public voice, he said, "shall we visit your wife, Emperor-Elect?"
"I get a wife, too?" said Lou. "Woo-hoo!"
"Allow me," said Bud, as he took the scepter from Klaudaine's hand and tried to "accidentally" bonk Lou. Only with the crown on, bonking Lou had no effect.
The Emperor-Elect stuck out his tongue.
Bud shrugged. "Remember, Lou, the wife in question is Frankie."
Lou shivered.
"Is anybody going to open this door?" demanded one of the cameramen.
Klaudaine rushed forward. "It appears that I must add 'designated knocker' to my job description," he joked.
As the camera crew was setting up, Klaudaine found time to make a phone call. "Miss Maughlarde, I hear you are taking the World History class, are you not?" he said. After pausing for an answer, he continued. "I have also been informed that this is not one of your best subjects, and if you fail, you will not be able to graduate. I will have you know that I am an expert at world history, and I would be honored to help you as your 'study buddy'. I will stay up late nights with the books and the notes, and make the tea. I can also provide you with the answers for the tests that you...oh, well, I suppose that is a little out of line, yes, but still you must admit that this help would be very near to 'life-saving', thereby fulfilling my debt to you and...Oh. I see. Very well. Good day to you."
Klaudaine looked up to see Francine, who was looking disapprovingly at the carpet the camera crew had crossed. No mud or other stains were visible, but in her mind's eye, Francine saw clearly the dirt and contagion that the crew had brought into her home. She appeared to be visibly restraining herself from grabbing a scrub-brush and disinfectant and going to work on the invisible footprints. "Oh, Your Excellency!" he exclaimed.
With an effort, Francine broke out of her spell and noticed Klaudaine with the telephone in his hands. "Not for a couple of hours yet," she said, in reference to the title. "I'm still Mrs. Nulton."
He noticed her looking at the phone. "I hope you don't think that I would, to use the American expression, 'stick you with the bill'. I always repay my debts. And might I observe, that is a most beautiful dress you are wearing. It really compliments your appearance."
"Thank you very much," she replied, taking the phone out of his hands and spraying it with a sanitizing spray positioned for that very purpose. "It was the most expensive dress I could find. I usually do not care for my appearance, but today a good portion of the world will be spending several hours looking at me, and I thought I should make an effort to be worth looking at."
"Indeed. This is a must impressive mansion you have here. Do you mind telling me a little about its history? I asked Lou, but..."
"Say no more! Lou probably told you all the lies the city folk tell. Hobbomock has stories told about him north of here and south of here, but the Mohicans never claimed he raised the three mountains. Winifred Benham moved to Massachusetts after her trial, not here. Dudleytown failed not because of 'the curse', but because the lack of sunlight and poor farming practices depleted the soil, and it was in a dumb position for trade. The trees didn't disappear; they were all cut down to fuel the ironworks up on Mount Riga. That's why there are so few animals around.
"As for Gogol itself, it was built by my father in 1958 as a place to get away from it all. My mother named it after Nikolai Gogol, the Ukrainian author. My sister and I spent more of our time here then in any of the other family homes. We inherited it in 1977, and I became sole owner in 1982. It hasn't been used much in the last decade, as I found a home in the city to be much more convenient. Besides, I've never been much into the whole 'master-servant' thing. Any other questions?"
"Francine Benham was your ancestor, then?"
"Yes, she was, on my mother's side. Anything else?"
"No, that clears things up nicely."
"Good, because I have a question for you." Francine took a moment to look around at how her living room was being transformed. She was pleased to see that nothing had been broken and the men handling her belongings were wearing gloves. "I have to say, you've got a nice operation going, Aldus. I thought I was the only one paranoid enough to pull off a charade like this."
"Remind me to tell you of the epic five-year battle of paperwork between myself and Agent Maughlarde for the position of Number Two in The Company. A battle that I have won, you will note," Klaudaine replied, coldly. "That was a lesson in the true nature of power."
"You think I have not been taught that lesson as well? Or do you think I gave up control of Orlac Machines for the sake of my health?"
"Very well. And what was your question?"
"What are you and Nimnul really up to? Earth Forces have all been equipped with lasers by now, but the Danaans keep kicking our tails!"
"That was ironic, just now. Nimnul came from a world of intelligent animals, and then you use the phrase 'kicking our...'"
"Are you going to give me a straight answer, or not? Do you and Nimnul trust me?"
"Do you actually want me to answer that question, Francine?"
Francine said nothing.
"I thought not. Suffice it to say that Nimnul and I know what we are doing."
"Really? Sending all of those prisoners up to the Moon, that doesn't look very competent."
"You're not giving Nimnul enough credit. That man is a genius with a computer. He's already figured out the Wired."
"The Wired?"
"'A series of tubes', as I believe it is called," Klaudaine joked. Drawing no response, he gestured vaguely with his hand. "This month's name for the world computer network. Anyway, Nimnul's developed a laser for the lunar troops that mounts on their backs and does all the aiming and firing for itself. It doesn't matter who wears it!"
"And so you send up people you'd prefer not come back." Francine shook her head in wonder. "I would stoop so low, but I never suspected that a Company man would allow such a thing on his watch. I thought you were the good guys."
"The equipment's ready, Mr. Klaudaine," Bud said, walking up to them.
"I am not 'the good guy', Madame. I am 'the guy who gets things done'."
"This is Supervisor John G. Houker at Vostaach Space Center calling Mr. Klaudaine. Bear, do you copy?" The man on the screen was short, if possible even shorter than Nimnul or Lou. A head resembling a loaf of white bread dwarfed a tiny pair of spectacles, accented by bushy gray eyebrows and a halo of gray hair.
Klaudaine sat down at his appointed post and picked up the microphone on the desk before him. "Aldus Klaudaine at Gogol Mansion here, over."
Supervisor Houker peered dimly through the spectacles. "Ah yes, Klaudaine. I was wondering if you could be a dear and put the Emperor-Elect on? Captain Cellini is ready for his final orders."
"Of course," Klaudaine replied, moving over in the seat to make room for Lou, who was doing his best to sit down without losing his gigantic crown. He closed his eyes for a second and silently hoped he wouldn't forget his lines.
"Eh...Emperor-Elect Norton II is here," Lou announced in a very shaky impersonation of Norton Nimnul. He remembered he was supposed to be condescending, so at the last moment he tacked on the word "mortal".
The man addressed on the other end of the video link in Russia stood erect in his orange jumpsuit. He had the look of an alpine skier and the wandering eyes of an inveterate explorer. He was also trying valiantly to keep a straight face. Behind him could be seen crews busy loading a large space transport. One of them was quite obviously Norton Nimnul. Seeing this, Klaudaine silently squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers to try to make the headache go away.
"My instructions?" the captain gently prompted.
"Ah, yes. You are to take Commander Gorski back to Moonbase Alpha, where he will resume his duties. I will be coming up as soon as the coronation ends and I become ruler of Earth. Mwa. Ha. Ha, ha, ha." Lou beamed at getting all that out in a recognizable form.
Houker stepped back into frame. "In addition, Emperor-Elect, it would be our honor to send you Russia's message of thanks for your imminent liberation of their great nation."
This statement seemed to take both Klaudaine and Lou by surprise. Klaudaine recovered first, jumping up and turning on a fax machine located on the table. "Of course, sir. You may transmit that thanksgiving message from Mother Russia at any time."
The machine responded by spitting out page after page.
"I believe that concludes our business today," said Houter, reaching forward for a switch off-camera. The image turned off.
Klaudaine looked up at the camera crew. "That will be all, gentlemen. I would suggest you return to the van while we finish up in here. Agent Keigh, could you drive? I need Bud to man the fax machine for me."
"Sure thing," the man addressed replied, as his men filed out.
"'Thanksgiving message'?" asked Bud.
"Last-minute instructions from the Emperor Elect. In code." Turning to the fax machine, he picked up a pile dozens of pages long that looked like a standard self-congratulatory message of thanks. Flipping through the pages, he said, "This can't be more than five or six pages here, decoded. There's a unit in the limo. Are you coming with us, Empress-Elect Francine?" He offered his arm.
"It would be my honor, Aldus," she replied, taking it. "By the way, why is Gorski on that flight?"
"Let me put it this way: you are the enemy. You have that rocket in your sights. Then you learn that Commander Anton Gorski, a man who requires an instruction manual to put on his boots, is on that rocket and he's going back to the Moon to run it as well as he did before. Would you shoot?"
Francine shook her head, laughing.
It was a long drive to Philadelphia, site of the coronation. Klaudaine spent the whole time on his car phone making various arrangements, while Bud "operated the decoder mechanism". This consisted of feeding pages one at a time into a slot on the side of the device and waiting for a little bell to ring before feeding in the next, as well as dealing with the used pages that tended to get spat out randomly and violently. Lou, despite being Emperor-Elect, was still stuck driving, as he wasn't trusted to be able to "operate the decoder mechanism" successfully.
Once all of the pages had been scanned, the black rectangular box thought for ten minutes, and then started kicking out more pages, which Bud did his best to catch and keep separate from the input pages. Francine took each one out of his hands as soon as they were caught and glanced at it, and then returned it to Bud. The first three pages each consisted of a list of names, addresses, and "reasons", with the header "Induct into Lunar Army ASAP". When the machine was finished, Bud put it aside, opened a compartment in the side of the car, and removed the Handy Navi. He started entering the names and addresses, but quickly got frustrated.
"None of these people exist!" he exclaimed.
"Let me see that." Francine took back the first page and started looking at it more closely. "Oh," she said at last, "I see. Nimnul made this list from memory, using people from his universe. They have different names over here. For example, 'Huey Newark' must be 'Howard Jersey', Norris' college roommate in his freshman year. I bet all of these addresses are wrong as well." She got out a pen, then picked up one of the used sheets of paper and turned it over. "I'll see if I can figure out who these people really are, and then you can use your computer to look them up."
Bud handed over the pages and straightened his back. "Fine by me!" he exclaimed.
As Francine worked on the names, she started paying attention to what was in the "reason" column. Among the entries were "mocked me in gym class", "gave me a B in Chemistry" and "tied my shoelaces together". Obviously, this was an enemies list, all of them condemned to do duty on the Moon alongside the convicts for what their counterparts did to Nimnul in another universe. Strangely, at least a third of the names had the same baffling reason: "called me 'Waldo'". She made a mental note of that name for now.
The last two pages changed format from the earlier ones. Now there were many columns instead of just three, and none of them was "reason". One of the new columns was "alias", and another was "age". Francine read the first line and became very still. "Alice Wentworth", the line read. "Alias Queenie. Age 13."
Francine skimmed the rest of the list, but found nobody she knew listed. She was somewhat impressed to see that some of the aliases, like "ConMouse" and "QQ", lacked contact information-that meant that they had hidden their information so well that Nimnul couldn't track them. From the aliases used, it appeared that this was the user list for the online forum dedicated to the Rescue Rangers cartoon. She also noticed that neither Herbert, Jr., nor his alias of "Honker" were on the sheet. Francine looked over the list and deliberated. She reasoned that making this second list disappear would accomplish nothing in the long run: Nimnul would eventually follow up and re-send the list, and Francine might not be lucky enough to intercept it a second time. She therefore started copying out the list onto the end of the first list, leaving out anyone younger than 18. The rest were legal adults, she coldly told herself, and therefore liable for the consequences of their poor judgment. For the "reason" column, she wrote, "Watches cartoons too much".
By this time, Klaudaine had finished his calls. "Well?" he asked her.
"Nimnul wants more recruits. Here's the corrected list," she said, handing over her hand-written list as she pushed the decoded pages into an opening on the side of the car labeled, "for destruction of incriminating documents."
The coronation ceremony was very long, and very boring. Francine, however, reveled in it, for she was the center of attention, something she had long been craving. Yet for some reason it felt strangely unsatisfying. There were many interviews with the press, most of them entirely devoid of any intellectually significant content, and then the limousine finally turned around and drove back to Gogol. Francine went back to her room and collapsed on her bed, sound asleep.
