Issue Five, Odds and Ends
Interlude 5.1: Glory at the PNDF
Jenny Peters, the Port Alexander Times' hot shot reporter, settled back to her
desk after a day of dead-end leads and community theatre announcements to wade
through the usual groups of letters. Crackpots, cranks, and would-be saviours
of the universe seemed to flock to her, ever since her piece on Fervor. Most
found residence in the circular file but this time there was an envelope that
stood out, it may have been because it was black with white writing, or maybe it
was the return address of "The Wanderer -- Here, there, and everywhere."
Anyhow, at this time of day she could use a laugh, if that is what it turned out
to be. Ripping it open, she found the following note:
"Ms. Peters,
Allow me to introduce myself. I am someone whose name is not important at this
time. I come from...well, nowhere really, but I've been many places, including
the now sunken research platform which is swimmin with the fishes, dame. Gotta
love gumshoes.
But, that is neither here, nor there, I do have a note for you to deliver to a
Mr. Fervor. When I last spoke with him I made mention of searching for a
certain script, and having found it, I have a part for him. Please relay to Mr.
Fervor that casting will begin Friday midnight at the Harbor, Winthorp Marina
slip #35A. Come alone, I do detest agents of any kind.
Signed,
The Wanderer"
Peters considered the note for a moment, then pulled up her latest column
on the computer. She added a few words to the bottom, nodded, and sent it
to the printer.
Fervor read the last line of Jenny Peters' column again, "On a personal note,
if you're reading this Fervor, could you contact me as soon as possible?"
"I promised her some interviews, didn't I?" thought Fervor. He reached for
his IPAC beeperphone and left messages for the White Knight and Core, then
called Jenny at the PA Times office.
Jenny was pleased to hear from Fervor. "Fervor, I got a very odd message
in the mail the other day. At first, I was inclined to think it was a joke,
now, though, I'm not so sure ... let me read it to you." She read the
Wanderer's note to him.
"That's all there is ... and today is Thursday. Care to tell me what's up?"
asked the plucky reporter.
"Jenny, Thanks for letting me know about the letter." Fervor told the
reporter in a tone full of warmth. "As far as what's up, I'll be happy to
tell you once I have better information. I know who the Wanderer is and the
general topic of information that he wants that he is alluding to but not
what that information is. Guess I'll just have to meet him and find out. By
the way, I don't want you to think I've forgotten about you. I've been
trying to reach a couple other of the City's heroes for you to interview
but I haven't received any firm commitment yet. If you like, I'll let you
know how my audition goes at the wharf tomorrow. Can't promise it will be
newsworthy though. I don't know why these meetings can't be scheduled for a
tuesday night. Why is it always the weekend? Well, You have yourself a good
weekend and I'll let you know Monday how the meeting went."
"Thanks Fervor, you're one of the good ones," Peters replied.
Friday night at midnight most honest citizens of Port Alexander were
either asleep in bed or whooping it up at one of the many night
spots in the city.
Down by the docks, by Winthorp Marina, a shadowy figure was counting
slips. "34 ... 34. There's no slip #35!" Fervor looked around
in surprise.
He heard a noise behind him and whipped around to see The Wanderer
standing behind him.
"Bravo! I see both mathematics and history are your strong points," said the
black clad man known as The Wanderer hoisting a black duffel bag further upon
his right shoulder.
"Yes, Ms. Prinkle would be pleased that all those rulers did not go to
waste so long ago." Fervor replied. "I'm glad to see you made it back to dry
land. Did your dive discover any
treasure?" Fervor seemed to be at ease here almost a completely different
person then the tense one who was on the platform.
"Why yes," said The Wanderer digging in the duffel bag. Through goggled eyes, a
twinkle of joviality shone through the inky darkness of the night. "I'll assume
you've been a good little boy and give you your gift," joked The Wanderer as he
pulled out the metal box which Python and Frostorm seemed so intent to take.
"I admit, I noodled around with the contents but it proved to be an 'al dente'
experience for me," confessed The Wanderer, "It is filled with computer data
diskettes, but I was unable to identify the operating system and unlock their
saucy secrets." "Presently it appears we have more questions than answers, do
you have any ideas as to how we can reverse this?" questioned The Wanderer while
gesturing with his hands in a circular motion.
"Well I will admit beforehand that the possibility of me figuring that out
is about the same as the Dutchmen going undefeated this year." Fervor
answered the dark hero. "On the other hand, I do know a certain knight who
seems to seems to excel at this gadgety goop. We can let him take a shot."
"A Knight to shed light? I marvel at the irony. The people back home, if I had
one, would find that rich," quipped The Wanderer. "Fortunately, I had a nap so
a late evening won't disturb my morning digestion. Lead on!"
The normally carefree Wanderer, took on a note of somber respect and concern
moments later, "Tell me, how is your lovely associate, Glory I believe I heard
her referred to as, doing? She took quite a nasty spill."
"Glory is not looking too good. The best that we can say right now is that
she is stable and seems to be out of immediate danger. I'm confident that
she'll pull out though. She's a lot tougher than she looks." Fervor answered
all joviality gone from his voice also.
"Now let me find a phone and see if I can contact the Knight."
Fervor pulled out a small beeperphone and spoke it into. Shortly,
the IPAC switchboard routed the call and the White Knight was
roused from his sleep by the beeping of his phone.
"... White Knight, How can I help you?"
"White Knight, It's Fervor. Wanderer just contacted me with some
information on the platform. Unfortunately it's a bit to technical for us
and we were hoping that you would be able to shed some light on the
situation. You available?" Fervor said into the phone.
"Let me check my diary... today, 3am... no, it's clear.... Ok, Where are
you now? I'll come over and check out your info. What format is it in?
Media? Encryption?" asked the White Knight.
"We're down at the docks, though if there is a lab or something we need to
meet you at that should be OK. As far as the technical stuff I haven't even
looked at it. Here, Let me give you Wanderer. He should be able to answer
you questions better than I." Fervor handed the phone over to the Wanderer.
"Good morning, is the Knight of the castle home?" quipped The Wanderer. "I've
recovered a veritable treasure chest of electronic media from the platform that
Python and Frostorm felt was important enough to pilfer. Unfortunately, I
haven't been able to decipher their format and unlock the goodies. Fervor
thought you may be able to check out our floppies."
"OK, I'll meet you there in 30 minutes. White Knight out"
The White Knight donned his Armour, picked up a laptop and his Beta
Cryptanalysis software, went into his garage, got on his motorbike and
roared out into the night.
Soon, the White Knight arrived at the dock where the Wanderer and
Fervor waited, and moments later the disks were in the laptop and
being examined.
After a few minutes the White Knight looked up from the screen and said, "It
appears to contain the route the Research Platform has taken, and survey
data of the ocean floor along that route. The significance of the data is
not obvious. I'll have to spend more time analysing the data to find out
what is so important about it."
"Well, Do you wish to contact us when you know something?" Fervor asked the
White Knight. "I guess we should put these fancy beeper phones to some
use."
Fervor then turned to the Wanderer.
"That OK with you? It's your disk after all. " Fervor paused for a moment
then adds, "Oh and how would we get in touch with you once WK figures out
what this is about?"
"By all means, spin the disks to your heart's content." mused The Wanderer. "As
for contacting me, hmm," he pondered," I presume we can discard the notion of
creating an environmental hazard like a bonfire, and I haven't a symbol to flash
across the heavens....how about a simple ad in the classifieds? 'CPU for Nomad
call @ meeting time, same place' I do try to read the Port Alex Slimes every
chance I get."
Suddenly, from behind a crate a voice cried out, "Smile!" and the pop
of a flashbulb lit up the night. Jenny Peters stepped out from
behind as the auto-wind on her camera began to whine.
"I should have guessed you guys would have had something to do with
that explosion on the research platform." She turned to the
Wanderer, "but unless there's a lot more to Glory than meets the
eye, I don't know who you are or where you fit in."
Fervor seemed momentarily surprised at the reporter, but he kept himself
quiet, only briefly shaking his head. He had thought better of Ms. Peters
and thought she understood the rules of the game. Well, she made her
choices and will have to live with the fall out.
"Good Morning, Ms. Peters," said the White Knight. " You are certainly a tenacious reporter. How can I help you?"
"Thanks, that's my job, after all." Jenny looked at the three men, "So,
what did happen out there? All I've got is the offical report -- which
says nothing," she shook her head disgustedly, "and a few reports from
people who saw the explosion from a yacht a mile or so away. They tell
me there were a couple of boats out around there, was that you?"
"We were there," said the Knight. "We have been looking in to the causes of the recent
tremors, and our data predicted one centred near the platform. We were
heading out to warn the occupants, when it seems the tremor struck and
caused an explosion. Unfortunately Glory was injured while we were trying to
check for survivors, and is currently recuperating. We arranged to meet here
to discuss the data we gathered during the incident. It may help shed some
light on what happened, but it needs further analysis."
"Does that answer your questions?"
"Thank you very much, it's a start. Have you had any luck figuring
out what's causing the tremors? You've had some luck tracking
them down it seems." She paused, "Is there any truth to the rumours
that the platform was performing illegal nuclear experiments?"
"I have no personal knowledge of what experiments were occurring there.
The explosion occurred before I saw the interior, and the platform
rapidly sank," answered the Knight.
"As to the tremors, we do not yet know the cause, but there doesn't seem
to be any connection between them and the geology at their epicentres."
"Ok. Fervor, anything to add?" asked the reporter.
"No, Nothing at all." Fervor said in a professional voice void of emotion.
Jenny gave Fervor an odd look, "OK."
"What about you, masked man. Where do you fit into all this," she
asked the Wanderer.
"Like a glove, my dear," quipped The Wanderer. "I was a mere passerby, a
wanderer if you will, on the platform when the old heave-ho was given. There
are definite hijinks afoot and I'm sure you will know shortly after we do, the
press always does."
"All right, you seem OK with Fervor and the Knight, and that's good enough
for me, I guess," she said. "Ah, what do I call you?"
With a short bow, the black clad man swept his hand outward, "You may call me
The Wanderer, righter of wrongs and writer of letters."
"Ah! So that letter was from you! That was a mean trick using a non-existant
slip for the meeting. I almost missed you guys," said Jenny. "I'd love
to interview you sometime ..."
The Wanderer stood tall and with hands on hips said, "That it was, my dear.
Twas a precaution to prevent any uninvited guests from dropping in, one that
didn't work, it appears. Here you are, and me without a cake! Next time, next
time. I would be honored to speak with you Miss Peters."
"What do you mean, uninvited? You sent the letter to me, after all."
"Technically, you are correct, but it was the spirit of the letter in which you
are in violation," the Wanderer shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Tsk
tsk tsk, I should have known never to mince words with a wordchef like yourself.
Although with that eye for linguistic subtlety, you should have been a
lawyer...or a door-to-door encyclopedia salesperson."
"Well, I'm not an agent. I don't even have an agent," she replied.
"Besides if I didn't come, I would have had to turn in my Intrepid
Girl Reporter membership card. I mean, come on! A mysterious meeting
of heroes on a pier at midnight? And I'm supposed to just give it a miss?"
"I see your dilemma. I certainly wouldn't want you to get on the bad side of
the Nosey Reporter's Union. I hear Great Ceasar's Ghost can be quite a haunting
punishment. You are forgiven, and I can give you your exclusive, after all we
can't have the Port Alex Times' Hero Chick lacking a full house, can we?" teased
The Wanderer.
"That's right. When's good for you? Here's my card."
The Wanderer vanished, reappearing next to Jenny Peters and took the card. With
a gloved hand, The Wanderer closed her dropped jaw with a finger and whispered
"I'll give you a ring."
Interlude 5.2: The Wanderer at the Docks
Interlude 5.3: The Wanderer's Interview
Issue #6
Last Updated 25 May 2000
