Claudia Rajiv looked around, worried. “Never mind that,” she said. “Where’s Peck?”
Frank and Joe shot each other a worried glance.
“He went over the hill for a smoke,” Chet said.
“Frank and I will go after him,” Joe said. He handed his big extinguisher to Iola. “Take this,” he said. “We can make do with the one Frank has and the one that Ms. Bell is using.”
Jerri handed the canister to Joe. “You might as well take it, for all the good I’m doing,” she said. “I’m an actress, not a firefighter!”
“Shouldn’t we wait for the rangers?” Sandy O’Sullivan asked.
“No time,” Frank said. “Don’t worry. Joe and I have had rescue training.”
“Just keep the fire from spreading or flashing back on us,” Joe added.
“Right,” Chet said. “Be careful.”
Iola handed the Hardys a bucket of water, and they doused themselves with it. They also soaked their handkerchiefs and tied them around their faces to mask out some of the smoke.
Choosing a spot where the fire had exhausted most of its fuel, they picked a path through the blaze, using their extinguishers to clear the way. They went over the top and down the far side of the hill. The wind picked up and whipped up the smoke and dust, making it difficult to see.
“Let’s check that outcropping of boulders at the bottom of the hill,” Joe said.
Frank nodded. “Good place to take cover,” he said. “So that’s a good place to start.”
Cautiously, the brothers made their way toward the boulders. As they approached, they spotted a pair of alien boots sticking out from behind the rocks.
Sprinting the last few yards, Frank found Peck Wilson lying on the ground, unconscious. He knelt at Wilson’s side and felt for a pulse. “He’s alive,” Frank said, “but he’s inhaled smoke. He’s scorched on the right side of his face. Plus he’s got a nasty bruise on his neck—probably from keeling over. I think he’ll be okay though. Too bad that costume he’s wearing isn’t a real space suit. He’d have been better off.”
“Should we move him?” Joe asked.
Frank shook his head. “Probably not. I think I hear sirens. Let’s just make sure he’s comfortable and wait for the pros.”
“Check,” Joe said. He took off his shirt and put it under Wilson’s head to serve as a pillow. “Good thing there isn’t much to burn near these boulders.”
“There’s enough to start a fire, apparently,” Frank said, “if you’re careless.”
“You think that’s what happened?” Joe asked.
“Judging from the burn patterns, the fire looks like it spread uphill from here,” Frank replied. “And there’s a cigarette butt in that scorched patch just behind that boulder.”
Joe kneeled down and picked up a piece of paper at the edge of the scorched area. The paper had been partially burned, but Joe could still make out the words on it. “This looks like part of a Warp Space script,” he said.
“Probably the part Wilson was studying,” Frank said.
“So, you think he was having a smoke, tossed the butt in the wrong place, and—whoosh!”
“That’s how it looks,” Frank said.
As they talked, the smoke from the fire started to die away. The sound of firefighters working to wrestle the blaze under control echoed over the hill to Frank and Joe. “Is anyone down there?” a deep voice called through the smoke.
“Yeah, we’re here,” Joe called back. “We’re okay. We found the missing actor. He’s unconscious and needs medical attention.”
A ranger, wearing a smoke hood and carrying a fire extinguisher, appeared through the dust and smoke. He checked out Peck Wilson and made a quick call for assistance on his radio unit. “Fire’s under control,” he said. “You people did a good job of containing it.”
“Thanks,” Frank said.
“But,” the ranger continued, “hiking into the smoke was a foolish thing to do. Next time, leave the fire and rescue business to the professionals.”
Joe grinned amiably. “Hey, danger is our business.”
• • •
Half an hour later Peck Wilson was packed into the back of Sandy O’Sullivan’s SUV, heading for the local hospital. Rich Millani, the show’s lighting man and property master, drove so that O’Sullivan could stay and do damage control at the site. Stan Pekar had taken Wilson out of the slayer costume, and the big stuntman seemed to be comfortable, even though he was barely conscious. The park rangers sent one of their men, who had EMT training, along for the ride. The rest stayed to inspect the area and make sure the fire wouldn’t spring up again.
The cast and crew of Warp Space, including the Hardys and the Mortons, huddled near the cameras by the pond. Sandy O’Sullivan watched anxiously as the rangers combed the scorched hillside.
“I’m really worried,” she said to no one in particular, “that they may decide to shut us down while they investigate the fire.”
Rod Webb nodded. The director looked even more concerned than O’Sullivan. “We can’t afford to lose a whole day,” he said. “We’re behind schedule and over budget as it is. Who’s ready to shoot?”
He and O’Sullivan took in the dirty, smudged faces of the assembled cast. All had helped fight the fire, but doing so had ruined their makeup and soiled their costumes.
“We are in deep trouble,” O’Sullivan said quietly. “If we can’t complete this footage today, we can’t use the park again until the end of the week—assuming the rangers don’t kick us out altogether because of the fire.”
“Pekar,” Webb barked, “we need someone to put in front of the cameras ASAP. What can you and Ms. Nelson give us?”
“Marge and I are special-effects and makeup artists,” Stan Pekar said, “not miracle workers.”
“Too bad Peck got hurt,” Jerri Bell said. “He doesn’t need makeup under that Slayer outfit.” She wiped a smudge off one cheek with the sleeve of her Spacefleet uniform and tried to fix her hair, but it was no use.
“Hey,” Webb said, “that’s an idea. Who can we get into the Slayer from Sirius costume?”
A gangly young man with wiry brown hair stepped from the small crowd of people. “I can do it, Mr. Webb,” he said.
Webb broke into a broad smile. “Great, Ramon, great. Let’s get you suited up. If we shoot the Slayer sequences first, we’ll have time to get Bell and Rajiv and that contest winner—what’s her name?—cleaned up.”
Stan Pekar crossed his arms over his chest. “Rod, I hate to tell you this, but there’s no way Torres can play the Slayer.”
“What?” said Ramon Torres, incensed. “I’m up to it. I’ve done plenty of stunts for the show.”
“Pekar’s right,” Sandy O’Sullivan said. “Torres is about half Wilson’s size.”
“Marge and I don’t have time to fit the costume to Ramon—not if you want us to work on the other actors.”
“I can make it work,” Torres said. “Just give me a shot.”
“Chet would fit into the Slayer costume,” Iola blurted out.
O’Sullivan’s eyes lit up. “She’s right, Rod. Her brother would fit the costume.”
“Okay, we go with him, then,” Webb said.
“But—” Torres began. O’Sullivan and Webb ignored him.
“Sandy, put together a release for this Morton guy,” Webb said. “Pekar, you and Marge get him into the costume. Somebody dig up a script for him to study.”
“He can have mine,” Claudia Rajiv said. “I’ve got my lines down.” Jerri Bell scowled at her, but Claudia ignored her and handed the script to Chet.
“The rest of you, do what you can to fix your outfits and hair,” Webb said. “I want you ready when Pekar and Nelson have time for you.”
Chet looked stunned. “Hey, I’m going to be on TV,” he said, awestruck.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Iola whispered.
“Looks like your entering Iola in the contest finally paid off, Chet,” Fran
k jibed.
“Come on, big guy,” Stan Pekar said. “Let’s get you into costume. Iola, you come, too. The rest of the cast knows what to do to get ready for me.”
“You coming, Joe?” Iola asked.
Joe shook his head. “Frank and I are going to take a look around,” he said. “Get some fresh air in our lungs. We’ll see you soon.”
After their friends and the other actors left, Frank took a deep breath. “Boy, Hollywood sure does move fast, even when it’s located in Kendall State Park.”
Joe nodded. He and Frank walked through tent alleys toward the parking area.
“They seem to operate on a shoestring,” Joe said. “So, they’re probably used to minor crises.”
As the brothers walked between two of the production vans, a voice behind them said, “I don’t know what you two think you’re doing, but it’s not safe for you around here.”
3 Chet Morton: Slayer from Sirius
Joe and Frank spun, expecting to find a park ranger closing the location down. Instead, they saw Ramon Torres standing between them and the production tents.
“What are you talking about, Torres?” Frank said. “The park rangers haven’t declared the area unsafe.”
Torres scowled at the brothers. “You may think that your status as friends of the contest winner makes you special, but you’re not. The Warp Space crew is like family. You can’t just walk on to the set and pick up parts on the show. People have worked hard for those opportunities.”
“Is that what this is about?” Joe asked. “Chet getting to wear the Slayer costume instead of you?”
“I’ve slaved behind the scenes for my shot at the big time,” Torres said. “I’m not going to let anybody take that chance away from me.”
“Look,” Frank said patiently, “the costume clearly won’t fit you. What do you want them to do, shut down production?”
Torres looked surprised; apparently he hadn’t considered that possibility. He frowned. “I’m just saying that you and your buddies shouldn’t try to get more than you’re due. Leave the rest to the pros.”
“And if we don’t?” Joe asked.
“Let’s just say that things can be pretty tough in show business,” Torres replied.
Joe stepped forward, but Frank put a hand out to keep his brother from taking the disagreement any further. “Thanks for the advice,” Frank said. “We’ll keep it in mind.”
“See that you do,” Torres said. He turned and walked back toward the tents.
“Jerk,” Joe whispered.
“He seems pretty ambitious,” Frank said. “I wonder how much he’d do to get a part.”
“Are you thinking that he might have set that fire to hurt Wilson deliberately?”
“Maybe. Wilson did have that bruise on his head. Suppose he didn’t get it by falling. Suppose that those accidents and setbacks I heard about on the news were more than just coincidence.”
“But why would anyone do that kind of stuff?” Joe said. “If this show flies, everyone benefits.”
Frank nodded. “Sure. I could be seeing conspiracies where there are none. Maybe I’ve just been at the detective game too long.”
“We’re a little young to consider retiring,” Joe said with a grin.
“I know,” Frank said, “but sometimes I feel like we’ve been chasing criminals for seventy-five years or so.” Then he smiled. “Come on. Let’s see how Chet and Iola are doing.”
They met Chet coming out of the makeup tent. Marge Nelson, Pekar’s assistant, was putting a few final touches on his costume. Suddenly she stopped and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Chet asked. “It fits okay.”
“One of the insignias is missing,” Ms. Nelson said. “It must have come off in the ruckus. I’ll see if we’ve got another one. If not, we’ll just have to go without it.”
As Ms. Nelson was about to reenter the tent, Jerri Bell sauntered up. The young actress had changed out of her soiled costume into a clean one, removed her makeup, and fixed her hair. “Are you ready for me yet?” she asked.
“Claudia’s in right now,” Ms. Nelson said. “She’ll be quick though, since she’s a human character. I’m not sure if Stan wants you or the contest winner next.”
“I should be next,” Bell said. “I have more lines. We can always shoot the winner’s stuff some other day.”
“That’s for Mr. Webb and Stan to decide,” Ms. Nelson said pleasantly. She ducked inside the tent.
“I’d just like to say what an honor it is to work with you,” Chet said to Jerri Bell. “I really love Warp Space.”
She smiled weakly at him. “I’m glad you like the show,” she said. “I wish the circumstances were . . . better.”
“That fire was a real setback,” Frank said.
“One in a continuing string of minor annoyances,” Bell replied, sighing theatrically.
“Like what?” Joe asked.
“Props breaking, little things going missing, last-minute script changes,” Bell said. “All the usual problems that come with a low-budget production.”
“Well, it looks great on the screen,” Chet said.
“That’s because everyone works so hard,” said Marge Nelson, coming out of the tent once more. She affixed a small, starlike insignia to the front of Chet’s costume. “You’re all set,” she said. “Report to Webb and get to work.”
Chet put on the Slayer’s bulky helmet. “Sure thing,” he said, his words echoing from inside the silver fiberglass.
“I think that concealing faceplate is a distinct improvement, Chet,” Joe said.
“Slay you later, Hardy,” Chet replied, then turned and jogged toward the camera setup.
“Step into my parlor, Ms. Bell,” Marge Nelson said. “The great Stan Pekar will see you now.”
Jerri Bell rolled her eyes, and the two of them stepped inside. A moment later Claudia Rajiv stepped out. “Making yourselves useful?” she asked the Hardys.
“Only if you count putting out fires and saving lives,” Frank replied.
“Thanks for that,” Claudia said, “for the entire crew, I mean. Sometimes people get so busy around here that they forget the niceties.”
“Rajiv,” Webb called from across the camp. “Get over here! I need Commander Indira in this scene!”
Claudia shrugged. “See what I mean?” she said. “Come on. You can watch so long as you keep perfectly quiet. Iola will join us when Pekar’s done with her.”
The brothers walked across camp with Claudia. “What are they doing here?” Webb asked when he saw the Hardys.
“They’re watching, Rod,” Claudia said. “Their friend won the contest. They get to tag along.”
“Well, just so long as they don’t get in the way,” Webb replied. “We’re seriously behind, here.”
“I already read them the riot act,” Claudia said good-naturedly. “I think they’ll behave.” She winked at Frank and Joe.
“Well, okay, then,” Webb said. “Let’s get rolling. Places, everyone.”
Webb and O’Sullivan spent a few moments rehearsing the scene with the actors, then a few more minutes checking the shots with the cameramen. Finally Webb took his position near the main camera and called, “Action!”
Chet Morton, the Slayer from Sirius, lumbered down the hill toward the unsuspecting Commander Indira. At the last moment, Indira sensed the presence of the evil alien. She spun and drew her blaster, but the Slayer slapped it from her hand. The gun flew across the clearing, landing off-camera in the first take, but just where it was supposed to land on the second take.
Indira struggled with the Slayer for several takes, until Webb was satisfied that they’d have a convincing-looking fight. As the fight stretched on, Jerri Bell joined the Hardys near the cameras. She looked stunning in costume and full alien makeup.
“Good thing Iola can’t see the way you’re looking at Ensign Allura,” Frank whispered to Joe.
“Good thing Callie’s on vacation, or she’d give you twice what Iola
’d give me,” Joe shot back.
“All right, cut!” Webb yelled. “I think we’ve got enough coverage on the struggle. Where’s that contest winner? We’re ready for her now.”
“She’s still in makeup,” Jerri Bell said. “Stan decided he should do me first.”
“At your suggestion, I suppose,” Webb said, obviously peeved.
Bell shrugged. “I thought maybe Ensign Allura, instead of a walk-on actress, could save the commander,” she said.
Sandy O’Sullivan frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it’s up to Rod and me to make that kind of decision,” she said.
Claudia Rajiv sighed. “Jerri,” she said, “if you’ll recall, the walk-on is supposed to distract the slayer only long enough for Indira to escape. The extra is gravely wounded in the exchange and clings to life for the rest of the story. Is that the part you want Allura to play in this episode?”
“Of course not,” Bell said. “The autodoc on the ship could fix her up, and she could resume her normal duties after she rescues your character.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” O’Sullivan said. “And I say it stays the way I wrote it.”
“Hold on a minute here,” Webb said, scratching his beard. “Maybe Bell has a point. It could build suspense to have her character injured for most of the show.”
“Then who takes the scenes she’s supposed to play in the rest of the episode?” Sandy asked, annoyed.
“I told you, I recover,” Bell said.
“You can’t both recover and be critically injured to build suspense,” Rajiv noted.
“Claudia’s right,” Sandy said. “We can’t have it both ways. We could injure Allura in a future storyline if it’ll make you happy, Jerri.”
“I could suit up and save her,” Ramon Torres said, stepping away from where he’d been working with one of the cameramen. “I could be critically injured.”
“But you’re not even made up,” Bell said.
Webb waved his hands in the air to get everyone to quiet down. “Okay. Forget all this. It’s too complicated, and we’re wasting time. We’ll go with it the way it’s written. Where’s that girl?”
Trouble in Warp Space Page 2