Trouble in Warp Space

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Aladdin Paperbacks edition March 2002

  Copyright © 2002 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  ALADDIN PAPERBACKS

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster

  Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  The text of this book was set in New Caledonia.

  THE HARDY BOYS and THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2001096917

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-3754-7

  ISBN-10: 0-7434-3754-3

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-3962-6 (ebook)

  Contents

  Chapter 1: Location: Space

  Chapter 2: Lights . . . Camera . . . Fire!

  Chapter 3: Chet Morton: Slayer from Sirius

  Chapter 4: Downtime: Canceled

  Chapter 5: Sirius Business

  Chapter 6: Blaster Blastoff

  Chapter 7: Lights and Shadows

  Chapter 8: Brawl in Warp Space

  Chapter 9: Webs of Intrigue

  Chapter 10: Beneath the Mask

  Chapter 11: Battle on the Bridge

  Chapter 12: A Shocking Turn

  Chapter 13: The Final Straw

  Chapter 14: The Secret Number

  Chapter 15: The Message from Space

  1 Location: Space

  “I don’t know, guys,” Chet Morton said. “This doesn’t look much like outer space to me.” He pressed his nose close to the car window and peered out into the early-morning dusty parking lot.

  “You’re not taking into account the magic of special effects,” Frank Hardy replied with a smile. He pulled the van into a gravel-covered parking space and turned off the engine. Frank, his younger brother, Joe, Chet, and Chet’s sister, Iola, piled out of the car and looked around.

  The lot was in the middle of a huge, green forest of pine, maple, and oak trees on the fringe of Kendall State Park, several hours north of Bayport, the Hardys’ hometown. Several dirt pathways—some wide enough for a car—led from the parking area into the woods.

  “Warp Space will need a big SFX budget to turn these woods into another planet,” Joe Hardy said. He ran one hand through his wavy blond hair and squinted into the morning sunlight.

  “Nothing about this show is big budget,” Chet commented.

  Iola crinkled her nose at her older brother. “Hey,” she said, “I didn’t notice you cutting down Warp Space when you entered me in this contest—without even asking.”

  “Well, it was against the rules for me to enter myself twice,” Chet said, shrugging. He smiled at his younger sister. “I figured you’d give the prize to me because you wouldn’t want it.”

  “Not want a bit part on a TV show,” Iola said, her gray eyes sparkling. She shook her short dark hair and flashed her best movie-star smile. “It was my entry that won, even if you did fill it out. I can hardly wait to see my name up in lights.”

  Chet stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, sighed, and leaned against the van. “But you’ve never even watched the show,” he said.

  “I’ve done a lot of research on the Internet since I won,” Iola said, “and I watched your collection of tapes, too. I bet I know more about Warp Space than you do now.”

  “I don’t think you can win this argument, Chet,” Joe said.

  “Tell me about it,” Chet replied. “She may be your girlfriend, Joe, but I have to live with her.” All four of the teens chuckled.

  Frank checked his watch and frowned. “Wasn’t the producer supposed to meet us now?” he asked.

  “The executive producer,” Chet said. “Sandy O’Sullivan.”

  “And head writer,” Iola added. “She also created the series.”

  “And she does a lot of the publicity, too,” Chet put in.

  Frank shot a look at his brother. “I feel like I’m in an episode of Can You Top This?” he said.

  “Just a little of the old Morton competitiveness,” Joe said, grinning at Iola. She crinkled her nose at him.

  Just then a blue SUV appeared on one of the dirt trails. The car skidded to a halt in the lot, and a thin woman with close-cropped brown hair hopped out.

  “Are you the Morton party?” she asked, and they all nodded. “Sorry I’m late.” She walked across the dusty lot and extended her hand to Iola. “I’m Sandy O’Sullivan. You must be Iola. Congratulations on winning a week in Warp Space.”

  Iola shook hands with her. “Thanks,” she said. “These are my guests. The big oaf is my brother, Chet. The handsome blond guy is my boyfriend, Joe Hardy, and the tall, dark-haired one is his brother, Frank.”

  Sandy nodded at the young men. “Pleased to meet you all. We’re running a bit late, so if you’ll all hop into my car, we can ride out to the location.”

  The four teens climbed into the SUV, and Sandy took the wheel. “Behind schedule is Warp Space’s natural state of being,” she said. “Producing a science-fiction series is always tricky. Fasten your seat belts.”

  “Atomic batteries to power; turbines to speed,” Joe whispered as he and the others buckled in.

  Sandy hit the accelerator, and the SUV tore down the dirt road back into the forest.

  “Why did you choose Kendall State Park for this shoot?” Frank asked.

  “The park is fairly close to our production headquarters in Jewel Ridge,” Sandy said. “Plus, it has a nice selection of natural settings to shoot in—good rocks, trees, fields, ponds, etc.”

  “Still pretty earthlike, though,” Joe remarked.

  Sandy nodded. “That’s true, but I think SF fans are tired of papier-mâché sets. Shooting outdoors is tricky, but it gives a high-quality feel to the series.”

  “That’s one of the things I like about the show,” Iola said. “It doesn’t look like it’s all shot in a box.”

  “With so much programming out there,” Sandy said, “we’re doing everything we can to stand out.”

  “Fan buzz about the show is good,” Chet said, “and the Web site is fabulous.”

  “Thanks,” Sandy said. “I work on the site myself when I have time, which is not a lot lately. I’ve got some helpful fans working on it, too. They’re out in Renton, Washington, even though we’re based on the East Coast. Isn’t the Internet wonderful?” She smiled again and turned the SUV down another trail. The forest gradually gave way to a grassy meadow. Huge boulders, like immense stone turtles, dotted the landscape.

  “I think I’ve seen those boulders before,” Iola said.

  “Yeah,” Sandy replied. “We used that location in the ‘Petrified Planet’ episode. The spot we’re using today is just over those closest hills. The area is closed to the public just for today. I hope that’s going to be enough time. If it’s not, we’ll have to wait until the end of the week before they can clear the area again.”

  “I saw on the news that the show may not be renewed because of production troubles,” Frank said.

  “We haven’t had any more problems than most new shows,” Sandy replied. “Just the usual overtime and budget woes. We’ve had some on-set accidents lately, but that’s because everyone’s nervous about renewal, and when you’re nervous, you get careless.” She reached into a folder on the front seat beside her and pulled out a bound
script. “Here’s your script, Iola,” she said. “It’s a bit part, so you’ve just got a couple of lines.”

  Iola took the script and glanced at it. “I’ll try my best, Commander,” she said, quoting Ensign Allura, one of the show’s most popular characters.

  Sandy laughed, as did Chet. Frank and Joe shrugged, not getting the joke.

  “I’m sure you’ll do great,” Sandy said. “We’ve got a super cast. You’ll meet some of them today; the rest you’ll meet tomorrow. With luck, we’ll get all the outdoor location shots we need today and then spend the rest of the week in Jewel Ridge doing interiors.”

  “Sounds good,” Iola said.

  They topped the next hill and drove down toward a camp of equipment trucks and production tents in the small bowl valley below. Beyond the tents lay a meadow and a small pond. Copses of trees dotted the valley and the hillside beyond. Sandy hit the brakes at the bottom of the hill and parked the SUV next to the generator truck.

  As they got out, they noticed an attractive woman in a red Spacefleet uniform walking toward them. “Glad you’re back,” she called to Sandy. “Webb’s about to blow a gasket. There was some kind of trouble with Peck’s Slayer from Sirius costume, and then a stand of lights blew. We really need to get hopping if we’re going to finish up today.”

  Sandy rubbed her forehead. “Yow! And it’s not even nine A.M. yet!”

  The woman in the red jumpsuit propped her hands on her hips. “In Spacefleet we do more by ten A.M. than most people do all day,” she said mock seriously. “Is this the contest winner?”

  “You’re Commander Indira!” Iola said. “I’m so happy to meet you! I’m Iola Morton, the contest winner. This is my brother, Chet, and my friends Joe and Frank Hardy.”

  “Claudia Rajiv,” the woman in red said, shaking hands with Iola. “Call me Claudia. Commander Indira is just the character I play.”

  Iola blushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that, it’s just—well, I’m used to watching you on TV.”

  Claudia laughed. “I get that all the time. Pleased to meet you all.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Joe and Frank echoed.

  “I’m a big fan of yours,” said Chet, shaking the actress’s hand.

  Claudia took in Chet’s tall, stocky physique. Her eyes sparkled with laughter, but she didn’t utter a sound.

  “Chet always leaves himself open like that,” Joe said. “It’s one of his more endearing qualities.”

  “I’m sure he has many,” Claudia said. “I need to get back in front of the camera. I’ll see you all later.”

  “The rest of you, follow me,” Sandy said, leading them through the small tent-city set up beyond the trucks. “We have to get Iola to makeup.”

  They made their way to a pavilion near the center of camp. “The makeup and effects tent,” Sandy explained. “Even in the wilderness, our stars need to look good.”

  As they approached the tent, a stocky man in armor came out between the flaps. Under his arm, he carried a domed black helmet with a narrow eye slit.

  “The Slayer from Sirius!” Chet blurted. “Cool!”

  “That’s Peck Wilson,” Sandy said. “He’s the stuntman under most of our monster costumes.”

  “Hey, Sandy, you’re just in time,” Wilson said. “Pekar’s finished with me and ready for the contest winner.”

  “Great,” Sandy said. “This is Iola, our winner, her brother, Chet, and her friends Joe and Frank.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Peck Wilson said. “I’m going to pop over the ridge and have a smoke.” He hooked his thumb toward a small hill nearby. “Send for me when Webb’s ready.”

  “Okay,” Sandy said as Wilson walked off.

  “Why is he going that far away?” Joe asked.

  “Webb’s a health nut,” Sandy said. “Hates smoke.” She pulled back the flap of the big tent and ushered the teens in. Inside, a man with a bushy beard and long, graying hair was cleaning up around one of the three makeup chairs. “Stan Pekar, our makeup and effects man,” Sandy said. She introduced the teens to Pekar.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Pekar said, not looking up from his work as he pulled out new brushes, some paint, and a latex nose appliance. He put the new equipment in a small tray and walked over to Iola, checking her face from every angle. “Hey, we got lucky,” he said, smiling. “I can work with this. Great. Take a seat, will you? This shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

  Iola sat down. Pekar draped a makeup bib around her and began to work. “You’re going to be an Alturan in this scene,” Pekar said. “You know what that is?”

  “Sure,” Iola said.

  “Try not to talk,” Pekar said. “It’s harder to work when you talk. And don’t move your head, either.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Iola said.

  Sandy whispered to the others. “Stan’s eccentric, but he’s brilliant. We were lucky to lure him out of retirement to do this show.”

  The three young men nodded. “I’ve heard of Stan Pekar,” Frank said, “and I’m not even a big SF fan.”

  Just then a tall woman with long, braided blond hair and pointed ears walked into the tent. She was dressed in a blue Spacefleet jumpsuit and high heels. She moved gracefully despite the rough ground inside the tent.

  “Sandy, thank heaven I found you,” she said. “Webb wants my character to run downhill—in these heels, if you can believe it. I’m happy to do my part, but I’m not willing to break my neck. Maybe you could rewrite the scene somehow so I arrive by shuttle or something.”

  “Iola, Chet, Frank, Joe,” Sandy said, “meet Jerri Bell—also known as Ensign Allura. Jerri, this is our contest winner.”

  “Great,” Bell said. “Pleased to meet you. Now, about that scene . . .”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Sandy said, escorting Bell toward the tent flaps. At the exit Sandy paused, turned back to the teens, and said, “I have to take care of this. You can look around the camp, if you want. Try not to break anything expensive.” She gave a half smile and left.

  “Actors!” Pekar huffed good-naturedly. “They’re even more trouble than directors.” He puttered in his toolbox and began to put on Iola’s alien nose. “You can watch me work, if you like,” he said. “Just stay out from underfoot.”

  “I think we’ll catch some fresh air,” Joe said. He, Chet, and Frank left the tent and looked around. Cameras and lights were set up beside the pond. A rail-thin man with sunglasses and a baseball cap was pacing behind the equipment, shouting orders to Claudia Rajiv as she walked toward the cameras.

  “That’s Rod Webb, the director,” Chet said. “He’s terrific, a real big-market talent on a small-market budget.”

  As they watched, Rajiv finished her shot and walked over to Webb. The two conversed a few moments, then Webb glanced around, as if looking for someone. Spotting the teens, the director jogged toward them, concern on his tan face. He was a tall man with a graying beard and mustache. His Red Sox cap held his shaggy hair in place, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

  “Are you the contest winner?” the director asked Chet breathlessly. “Why aren’t you in costume? We’ve got to get rolling here!”

  “My sister won the contest,” Chet said. “She’s in makeup.”

  “Terrific,” Webb said, meaning just the opposite. He glanced around and sniffed the air. “Is one of you smoking? There’s no smoking on the set.”

  “Not us,” Joe said. “We’re tobacco free. But that slayer guy . . .”

  “Wait a minute, Joe,” Frank said. “I smell it, too, and it’s not cigarettes.”

  From behind the hill beyond camp, black smoke billowed into the morning sky. Then small tongues of orange flame danced atop the nearby ridge.

  Chet gasped. “Fire!”

  2 Lights . . . Camera . . . Fire!

  “Do you have fire extinguishers?” Joe asked Webb.

  “Four, I think, in the electrical and generator truck,” Webb said.

  “We’ll do what w
e can,” Frank said. “Chet, find a phone and call the park rangers. Mr. Webb, get your crew and start hauling water from the pond.”

  The director was too surprised to say anything except “Right.” He ran off, shouting directions. Cast and crew members rushed out of tents to assist in fighting the fire.

  Chet ran for a cell phone, while Joe and Frank found the electrical truck and hauled out the heavy metal fire extinguishers. They hauled the extinguishers to the ridge.

  “It could be worse,” Joe said, blinking back the smoke. He sprayed one extinguisher at the base of the flames.

  Frank dropped his extra extinguisher and did the same. “I think we can keep it at bay,” he said. “Good thing there’s been rain here recently.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “I wouldn’t want to try this with a California brushfire.”

  The wind shifted, and despite their efforts the fire began to skirt their defensive line. Frank coughed the smoke out of his lungs. “We need help,” he said. “Where are Webb and his crew?”

  Joe glanced back downhill. “They’re coming. But they look pretty disorganized.”

  “Good thing I’m here, then,” Chet said, loping uphill. He took Joe’s extra extinguisher and joined the brothers in battling the blaze. “I called the rangers,” he said.

  Together the three friends curbed the blaze’s flanking maneuver and began to push the fire back uphill. As they did, the crew from Warp Space arrived, hauling buckets of water and soaked blankets. Iola, partially made-up as an alien, ran up and threw a bucket of water on the fire. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “We’re fine,” Joe replied.

  “How did this happen?” Sandy O’Sullivan called as she beat at a nearby patch of flames with a wet blanket.

  “Maybe someone dropped a match,” Jerri Bell suggested. She picked up the fourth extinguisher and began to spray it, inexpertly, at the flames.

  “Everybody pitch in!” Webb yelled. “We need to put this fire out and get back to work! We’re behind schedule as it is!” He tossed a bucket of water on the fire and headed downhill to where a ragtag bucket brigade had formed from the pond up the hill. “Where are those rangers?”