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The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Nine: In which Dirth Vortex comes to bitterly regret the kidnapping of Miss Asil Tuesday, 31-Aug-1999 07:45:45
The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Nine In which Dirth Vortex comes to bitterly regret the kidnapping of Miss Asil The Dark Gah! Master must’ve been pretty confident that he’d got me on the ropes. After all, he’d managed to kidnap my young amanuensis Asil and knew that I’d fork over the secret plans he wanted to save her from a horrible fate. He had her safely stored away in a secret volcano hideout (Have you noticed how many baddies want to hide out in volcanos? Serious character flaw, in my opinion) surrounded by his acolytes who were studying the dark side of the Gah! No way anybody could work out where he was or how to find him. Or so he thought. You might recall that just before the Dirth made his exit through some sort of grey rectangle that served as a transport conduit, I took the opportunity to use my temporal pocketwatch to stop time and make a few arrangements. Well, number one was clearly to have a look through that teleportation whoosit and find out where the other side was. Didn’t have time for much of a look round, just enough for the old chronograph to work out where we were in longitude and latitude (Side effect of the time jumping function, don’t you know. No point shunting an hour into the future and finding that your planet has continued orbiting the sun without you. Very much last resort shutting off those safety protocols.). Also set up chronal charge in base’s computer designed to trigger off in just over twenty-four hours from then. Exhausted rest of charge in arranging temporal micro-shift of less than a second but again putting a bit of a time delay on it for when it’s needed. Had chat with old chum Dan Drury, now director of the Super-Menace Principal Undercover Directorate. Got him to give me a dekko at the files he’s got on this Gah! thingie. Turns out it’s some kind of underlying force which gets picked up by people specially trained to use it. Usual method of channelling it through shouting “Gah!”, apparently. Masters of the Gah! force can actually transmute themselves in pure Gah! energy, which is sort of a spotty purple. Only known master still living young chap called Starseed, with contact address at what I presume is a gentleman’s club called the Anti-Wonder Man League. Presume this to be all-male club that is against wonders. Can’t say I blame them. Give me a bit of certainty any day. Sent wire to this Starseed, enquiring what he knew about Dirth Vortex. Was surprised to find purple spotty glowing chap hurtling down to meet me when I got off the SPUD helicarrier in San Francisco. Equally surprised by number two Gah! chappie he had with him, a strange fellow in a grubby white outfit with initials SG embroidered on chest. Trousers obviously a bit tight as this fellow had whipped them off complaining of chafing within five minutes of landing. Starseed seems reasonable and professional chappie, but there’s something about him that makes one a bit wary; sense of danger I suppose. Like standing next to hungry tiger. Anyway, Starseed jolly keen to hear about Dirth Vortex. Turns out this sort of misuse of the Gah! is rather frowned upon. All other Gah! masters (goodies and baddies) mutually wiped out in the Gah! Wars generations ago (long, long ago, and apparently in a garage far far away). Not quite sure how this Starseed chappie came to become a Gah! Master nowadays. Didn’t like to ask. Other fellow introduced as Spaaaaaace Ghooooost. May have a drink problem. Could smell it on his breath. Definitely got the DTs in my opinion. Anyway, had a chat with these fellows re Dirth Vortex, explaining plan to them and modifying it to fit them in. Went home and paced floor waiting for instructions about where to bring the plans. Oh, sent vibratium off to young Bautista. No reason he shouldn’t be getting on with this gadget building really. Checked mail. Cautious letter from Patricia gently trying to find out if old father has gone potty. Son-in-law Whatisface clearly hoping to bang one up in a loony bin and scoop the jackpot. Sent a few pithy remarks back about hell freezing over before he sees a penny. Suggested developing moral turpitude and growing spine. This and the Times crossword pleasantly filled time (and diverted from worrying about young Asil) until Dark Gah! Acolyte creeps into hotel room to take me to rendezvous. Pausing only to wash and shave as clearly annoyed DG!A, went with him through mysterious grey rectangle. Pleased to tell from chronometer that in same underground complex as before. Dirth Vortex present, and demanded plans. I demanded to see young Asil, pointing out that my accompanying briefcase was rigged by Mr Bautista to explode if tampered with, and he wasn’t going to get it until I saw the young lady was unharmed. Chose words carefully. Plans weren’t in briefcase, were actually in jacket pocket, but no need to tell him that was there? Never said plans were in briefcase. Can’t be held responsible for what the villainous chappie assumed. Asil brought forward, struggling with captors, upset at being used as hostage. She felt she’d let me down. Suggested that she needn’t worry, that all was under control, and that this was no worse than the giant monkey incident and might end up much the same way. Asil looked for sandwiches. Well, I had to do the decent thing, so I offered these baddies the chance to surrender. Only fair. Promised them a fair trial and that I’d put in a word for them if they all came quietly. “You begin to try my patience,” Dirth Vortex hissed, activating that nasty double-bladed light sword thingie of his – also glows purple spotted by the way, but darker than Starseed’s spots. Interesting that. “Give me the briefcase.” Well, that’s what he asked for, so I handed it over and placed myself between Asil and his Gah! goons. Surreptitiously moved drum barrel of her handcuffs into future and felt her stiffen a bit as she realised she was no longer chained up. “Steady,” I warned her. Timing’s everything in this sort of caper. Vortex opened the briefcase. Times, copy of Nicholas Nickelby, little tea caddy (Americans do really good coffee but have never yet found any decent tea, so usually carry small supply when in the New World), appalling good luck fetish thingie I bought off a street vendor in Hong Kong because I felt sorry for the small child. No plans. “You seek to trick me?” the Dark Gah! Master snarled. Time. The temporal charge I’d left brewing in the computer systems moved what I fervently hoped to be the important bits (Asil tells me it was the hard disc drive of the server, whatever that is) vanished ten minutes into the future. Lots of sirens started shrieking and all but some flashing red lights went out. Defence grid and cloaking systems flopped (I think that’s the computer term) too, apparently, since the base suddenly became very obvious to Dan Drury’s SPUD colleagues on their helicarrier and they started shelling it. Then there was this thunderous “Gaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” sound and Starseed literally came through the wall to confront Dirth Vortex. Then there was the sound of “SpaaaAAAANNNnnnk Raaaaaaayyyyyy!!!!!!!” and a zapping noise as half the Dark Gah! Acolytes present clutched their backsides. Extraordinary. Mr Ghooooooost leaped through the hole that Starseed had made and started tormenting them. “Dance, varmints, dance!” he shouted. “I’ll teach you to eat begonias without a license!” A few acolytes rallied and tried to corner the bizarre chappie but he raced away singing “A Hard Day’s Night.” Starseed and Vortex were both very purple and bubbly right then, both shouting at the top of their lungs, and both trying to do grievous bodily harm to the other. Problem was Dark Gah! Acolytes creeping up on Starseed. I shouted to warn him. “Use the force! Look!” Asil more practically used the fire hose. Can’t shout Gah! if they’re too busy going glub. Took a few liberties and accelerated time for Asil and I so we could avoid these Gah! chappies and get away (after retrieving briefcase; just got to good bit in Nicholas Nickelby). Asil located grey rectangle equipment but apparently needs computer to operate. Therefore took emergency stairs, pausing only to retrieve Mr Ghoooost on the grounds that he was tough but probably not tough enough to wrestle a volcano. Y’see, that last little temporal shift I’d arranged, albeit moving matter for only a second or so, was a one inch channel all the way down to the live magma. I was working on the theory that once it found it’s path it was not going to give up too easily. So there we were, Space Ghost racing ahead of us shouting, “You’ll never catch me, gurl! When I get home to you, you’ll find the things that I do…”, when the whole mountain shook brining down our escape tunnel. Hope Mr Ghooooost got out alright, he was probably ahead of the rockfall. But Asil and I were trapped. “What do we do now?” the poor gel asked. Closest I’ve seen the plucky young lass to panic. Fortunately had contingency plan. Could only do this once but on the other hand now seemed a jolly good time. Triggered the time call function of the watch to bring us a rescue vehicle. Shimmering tingly sort of effect and the most bizarre cross between a bicycle, a euphonium, a bathtub, and a modern sculpture you’d ever seen appeared. We quickly climbed on while the chronal charge held and then whizzed away with it as it wore off. Just as well. Whole mountain blew at that point, doing terminally nasty things to Dark Gah! Acolytes, and causing hell of an insurance claim for secret volcano base. Starseed and Dirth Vortex in middle of blast, but not sure if they even noticed it they were going at it so hard. Of course, it was only later that we found out what devastation we had wreaked on Vortex and his plans for world domination. Right then we were sitting on that bizarre contraption as it gently pinged itself cool again. I turned round to thank the old chum with the orange and green waistcoat with the smiley faces on it. “Miss Asil, may I introduce my good friend, the EccentricEtherInvestigatorInventor!” Mumph reproves the ungodly for their lack of manners |
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