Barry & the Robot Emperor

First draft, first six 10,000 words

Barry

&

the

Robot Emperor

by

Tracey Meredith

Chapter 1

Kidnapped

Meven yawned as he flicked through the channels on the TV. Frustratingly, despite all the channels available to him, he could find nothing he wanted to watch. He settled on a channel showing blooper clips, mostly of people having spectacular accidents, and apparently deemed funny by the show's producers.

There was a knock on the door. Meven frowned. Who could that be? Dad hadn't said he was expecting anything, not even a parcel. There was another knock on the door. "Go away," Meven muttered to himself, as he gave up on the bloopers and continued his search for something to watch.

The knocking, however, carried on, only now it wasn't so much a knock as a thud. Meven turned the TV off in order to listen. Thud! Thud! THUD!

Whoever it was, they were definitely getting annoyed. And, whoever it was, Meven definitely didn't want to meet them. He crept out into the hallway. Was there some way he could get a look at who it was, without them seeing him?

Thud! Thud! Thud! Went the door. It was visibly shaking with each thump.

Suddenly, the knocking stopped. Meven listened, holding his breath. Had they gone? Had they given up? Meven tiptoed to the front door, listening for any indication that whoever-it-was was still there.

He had barely put his ear to the door when there was an almighty BANG! Something (possibly the door) hit Meven hard in the face. He was lifted off his feet and thrown back up the hallway, landing with a winding thump, flat on his back.

He tried to get up, but his efforts just made his head swim. Something was trickling into his eye. He put his hand up to wipe whatever it was away and found blood on his fingers. Oh, was all his brain could manage, before everything went to grey, then black, and he lost consciousness.

*

His hearing came back first. There was a low-level hum, and what sounded like whispering, but Meven couldn't catch what was being said. He lay where he was, his eyes still closed, while he did a quick mental inspection of himself, checking that all his body parts were where they should be, and listing the bits of him that hurt. Basically, everything seemed all present and correct, though his chest felt like it had just received a severe kicking, and there was something amiss with his left arm, though he couldn't work out what. He opened his eyes just a little, to see what had happened.

He looked up. There was a ceiling. It was a very low ceiling, black in appearance. He frowned. That didn't look right. The hall ceiling was white and definitely higher than this one appeared to be. He shut his eyes, too tired at the moment to be worrying about ceilings.

He felt a tapping on his face. He opened his eyes and gave a gasp of alarm. There was a face in front of him, but it wasn't a human face. What kind of a face it was, at this moment Meven couldn't say. It looked a bit like a cross between a cat and a monkey, with something else thrown into the mix. He tried to get up onto his elbows and back away, but his left elbow wasn't co-operating and was giving him excruciating pain. He decided to sit up instead. That didn't prove to be any easier than the elbow route, as the pain in his chest now began screaming in outrage. He gritted his teeth and stared incredulously at the creature before him.

The creature said something to him. Meven didn't understand a word of it and shook his head vehemently. That didn't help matters. His head didn't appear to be in much better shape than the rest of his body. However, the creature appeared not to understand the gesture, and continued gabbling.

"Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk?" it finished.

"Sorry," sighed Meven. "I don't understand you. English or French, please. English or French."

The creature tapped his ear, regarded Meven for a few seconds and then said, "The thief, Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk. Where is he?"

"Sorry, who did you say?" replied Meven.

The creature repeated the name. "Do not lie to me, human!" it said excitedly. "We know he has been with you! We found this under one of the beds!" It brandished what looked like a coin or some kind of disk.

Meven peered at it. "And that's... what, exactly?"

"A tracking device. All pilots carry one, so they can be found if there is a mishap." The creature pushed its face into Meven's. "So! Where is he?" it hissed.

Meven paused in thought, a possibility occurring to him. "You don't mean Barry, do you?" he said.

"Barry?" repeated the creature. "Who is Barry?"

"Well," continued Meven, trying to remember what he'd been told, "a few months ago, my brother disappeared, and when he turned up, he told everyone he'd been kidnapped, but didn't know who by, and he couldn't give the police any information about his kidnappers, because he never saw them, but he managed to escape and find his way home. The police never caught anyone. But Elian— that's my brother— told me later that he'd been on an adventure with some creature from another planet, who had some gizmo that took them to another dimension where there were dinosaurs and— and— " Meven's voice faltered. "I thought it was just a story and he was winding me up, but this Barry had a really long name and Elian called him Barry for short. He said Barry looked like a cross between a cat and a monkey..." Meven stared at the creature in front of him. "But," continued the boy hoarsely, "like I said, I thought he was making it all up."

The creature gave what Meven thought was a grin. "So, Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk is the thief!" it said triumphantly. "I knew it was he! He's been pilfering things from our workshop for years. But my cousin— my cousin says there is no harm in him, he's just interested in gadgets and electronics. Huh! And then the Inter-dimensional Navigator disappeared after one of his visits, and still my cousin will not believe the worst of him!"

"I think," said Meven, "he meant to give it back when he got home, but then his spacecraft blew up or something, and he was stuck here."

"And you think your brother went to a dimension where there were dinosaurs? What are dinosaurs?"

"Great big lizards," replied Meven. "Apparently, there was some kind of civil war going on."

"But why did Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk go to such a dimension?" said the creature, giving a puzzled frown.

"I think he was looking for a dimension with a spacecraft he could steal," said Meven.

"Hmm," said the creature. "That doesn't make a lot of sense to me. The IDN was a prototype. Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk knew that. It hadn't been tested. Anything could have gone wrong." It shook its head thoughtfully.

"Um," said Meven after a considerable silence. "Where am I?"

"On our spacecraft," said the creature. "You were knocked unconscious when we blew the door off. As you weren't able to give us any information about the thief at the time, we brought you with us."

"Oh," said Meven. "And when were you thinking of taking me home?" The creature shrugged.

There was a hissing sound and another monkey-cat creature appeared at the shoulder of the first. It started talking and then the first creature made a reply, nodding towards Meven. There was an angry outburst from the second creature, before it tapped one of its ears and addressed Meven.

"You are sure," it said, "the thief took your brother to another dimension— where there were... dinosaurs?"

Meven nodded. "Talking dinosaurs," he elaborated. "Talking and thinking."

The second creature muttered something to the first. The first nodded and addressed Meven. "We have made a second IDN. We might be able to follow Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk back to this dinosaur dimension, or possibly find it by looking for a dimension with intelligent dinosaur life. The thief will have to go back there before he can get to the next possible dimension."

"And you can do this after you've dropped me home?" suggested Meven hopefully.

The creature gave what Meven thought might be a sarcastic grin. "No," it said. "Time is of the essence. The IDN leaves a trail of ions. It eventually dissipates— we don't yet know when, but if there is no ion trail, we will have to track him by other means, such as the information you have given us. We may yet be able to find the thief and bring him to justice."

"Oh," said Meven. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Well, you've got an Inter-dimensional-thingy-whatsit, so why bother chasing him? If he finds a spacecraft to bring him back home, you can arrest him then, can't you?"

"The IDN is a very powerful tool and Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk is an idiot. If that thing was to fall into another's hands, who knows what could be unleashed throughout the dimensions. There are some very nasty permutations on those time-lines, that could wreak havoc while on a quest for wealth and power. Beside which, we ourselves are subject to some very powerful and influential clients, who have invested a lot of money in this, and are none too happy with our light-fingered friend. They want him stopped. They want him punished."

"And what about me?" said Meven, afraid of the answer.

The creature shrugged. Its colleague, however, was more conciliatory. "If we are able to return you to your home, we will," it said. "But you are not our priority, so don't count on it. Right," it said, turning to its colleague, "let's find somewhere to land and see what happens when we put "talking dinosaurs" into the equation."

*

They landed on Dune du Pilat— the same place Barry had hidden his escape-pod when he'd been forced to make an impromptu landing, following the loss of his spacecraft. It was dark and it seemed night had fallen a while ago.

The first creature frowned. "There is no ion reading here," it said, looking at its gadget. It glanced up at Meven. "The thief, Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk, did not leave from here, though it may be too weak to detect, by now," it said.

"Meven shrugged. "All I know is, this was where Barry hid his escape pod. I think they used an old car to travel to the dinosaurs."

"Why did you not mention this before?" said the creature rather tersely. "Where did they launch that vehicle from?" Meven shrugged.

The two creatures looked at each other. "Trial and error, then," sighed the second of them

"Well," said Meven hurriedly, "you could drop me off here, couldn't you? Before you set off after the dinosaurs."

The second creature looked at the first. "I think not," said the first. "I think a hostage might turn out to be a useful bargaining chip."

"But," spluttered Meven, "Barry doesn't even know me! I've got nothing to do with this!"

"But you are the brother of his erstwhile companion, are you not? He may be prepared to come quietly to free his companion's brother." The second creature gave a derisory snort. "You think not, Kemikajacoldztle?" said the first.

Kemikajacoldztle shook its head. "Of course not," it said. "Would you? Enough now! We are wasting time! Every minute we waste, the ions fade further. The human will have to wait, and hope we will be kind to him."

The first creature sniggered. "I suggest, " it said to Meven, "that you secure yourself. This may be a bumpy ride."

"Oh," said Meven. He looked down at his arm. "I seem to have something wrong with my elbow," he informed the creature. "It doesn't seem to want to move."

"It's just a sprain," said the creature. "It will improve over time. Now, I suggest you adopt a position suitable for surviving a crash. There are no adequate seats for one of your size in this craft, so you'll have to improvise."

Gingerly, Meven pulled his knees into his chest, wrapped his good arm around his legs and tucked his head down.

"Very good," said the creature and gave a little chuckle.

There was a pause in proceedings and then one of the creatures called out, "Here we go!"

Meven felt his stomach lurch, as though the spacecraft had dropped suddenly. Then there was a feeling like they were travelling backwards on a roller-coaster. Just as Meven began to feel that he was going to be sick any second now, there was a boom, then a shudder, followed by a sensation of incredible speed, and if he'd already had his breakfast this morning, Meven would have definitely been sick. The craft rocked and rolled and rattled, before, with an incredibly loud bang, it came to a stop so suddenly, Meven was thrown violently forward, hitting the padded back of one of the pilots' seats with the top of his head.

There was a silence and then one of the creatures said something that sounded distinctly like, "Wow".

Meven stood up and hit his head on the low ceiling. He cursed loudly. "Mind your head," sniggered Kemikajacoldztle. Meven glared at it and got back onto his knees, peering over the seats and out through the craft's windows as he did so. There wasn't an awful lot to see, and most of what there was, was green.

"This is it?" said Meven, staring at the huge ferns and rapier-like leaves.

"Yep," said Kemikajacoldztle, undoing its harness. "If the IDN has worked properly, this should be your dinosaur world."

It got up and pressed a button on one of the walls. There was a quiet humming sound and panels began to lift all around the craft, revealing more windows and letting in a verdant light. They were surrounded by greenery.

"Carlagetikamptilli-ze," Kemikajacoldztle called to its companion, "are there any significant life-signs around here?"

Carlagetikamptilli-ze pressed a few buttons, which elicited a chirping sound from the dashboard. There was a moment's silence while the creature read the data. "Minor life-forms in the immediate vicinity," came the reply. "Nothing major. Nothing likely to be intelligent."

Kemikajacoldztle gave a grunt. "Well, human—" it began.

"Yes, monkey-cat," retorted Meven.

"Monkey-cat?" replied Kemikajacoldztle, a tone of outrage in its voice. "Monkey-cat! How dare you!"

"Then stop calling me human," retorted Meven. "I have a name, you know."

"Oh," said Kemikajacoldztle, as though the idea had never occurred to it.

"Meven," continued Meven. "My name is Meven. It's nice and short, so it shouldn't be difficult to remember."

"Ye—es," said Kemikajacoldztle, giving a slow nod. "Perhaps it is time for formal introductions. I am Kemikajacoldztle and this is my partner and life-mate, Carlagetikamptilli-ze."

"Oh, no," said Meven impatiently. "I'm never going to remember those! And what if there's an emergency? We could all be dead by the time I've warned you both. Can I call you Kemik and Carla instead?"

Carla gave a sigh of exasperation. "You humans," she said, "you have such poor brains! How you came to be the dominant species on your planet, I'll never know. Your world would be better off if the orang-utans were in charge!"

"Orang-u..?" began Meven, and shook his head. "Look, let's agree I've got a poor brain. And let's agree Kemik and Carla it is. And, to further insult you— are you male or female?"

"Does it matter?" said Carla.

"Well, it might if I have to refer to you as him or her, and I'm wrong, said Meven impatiently.

"Well, it's a bit complicated," said Kemik, before breaking off and speaking to Carla in their own language. There was a lot of discussion and gesticulating before Kemik advised Meven, "Well, you can refer to me as him and Carlagetikamptilli-ze as her, if it's that important to you."

"It's not particularly important," said Meven defensively. "I just don't want to offend anyone, that's all." Carla and Kemik shrugged. "So, it's okay, then? I can call you Kemik, and you Carla?"

"Yes," sighed Kemik. "If you must."

"Now, hu— Meven," interrupted Carla, "your brother—when he came here, where did he go? Did he tell you?"

Meven frowned as he tried to remember the story Elian had told him. "A hill fort," he said at last. "They drove the car to a hill fort where there were loads of Barrys—sorry, people like you, but without the technology."

"A hill fort? What is—?"

"A settlement with a wall round it," explained Meven. "For protection," he added. "Some of the dinosaurs aren't very friendly."

"Not very friendly?"

"As in, they eat your kind. And probably my kind, if they existed."

Carla and Kemik exchanged glances. "It is just as well we have a working spacecraft," laughed Kemik nervously. "We'll leave the window shields down and see if we can spot this hill fort once we've got some height. Right, everyone! Get ready for lift off!"

Chapter 2

Barry

The was a clunk of steel as a trapdoor was opened and a bowl of what Barry laughingly called food was pushed through. Barry tried to restrain himself. Food was the highlight, the only highlight, of an extremely long day, and he didn't want to use it all up at once. Count to a hundred, he told himself. Count to a hundred, slowly get up, and walk calmly over to the bowl. And then walk calmly back. Eat the contents slowly. Savour every bland mouthful.

Thirty seconds later, he was grabbing the bowl, hurrying back to his corner and shovelling the food into his mouth like a dog trying to eat its meal before the rest of the pack noticed it had food.

Within a minute, the bowl was empty. Barry stared at it despondently. Every day he did this. Every day he was going to savour it. Every day he gobbled it down. And every day he sat there, regretting his haste and his greed. One day—one day he would take his time. One day he would find out if the food even had a flavour.

He glanced up at the wall, at the lines that marked off the days he had been in this cell. How long had he been here? Certainly longer than those lines on the wall would suggest. As one day had merged into the other, he had either forgotten to make his mark or fallen asleep during the day, and woken up unable to tell if this was a new day or the remains of the old one.

He had given up. Only the daily ritual of food marked the passing of time and, to tell the truth, he wasn't even sure if that did only happen once a day. With nothing to do, no one to talk to, not even a changing of light, he could be getting three meals in a very long day as far as he knew.

He put the bowl by the trap-door. He had found out very quickly that if the bowl was not returned, there would be no further food.

He took a drink from the pipe in the corner and pondered his future. What if they didn't let him go. What if he was here until old age carried him off.

He felt a lump forming in his throat. Don't cry, he told himself. There's no point. But then again, he argued with himself, a good old cry would break the monotony. He compromised and grizzled for a few moments, and then spent a further few minutes trying to stop his nose from running.

Time went on. Barry began to doze, dreaming of pizza and dinosaurs with big teeth. He was awoken by a prod to the shoulder. "Ger-off," he mumbled, waving the prod away.

The prod returned, this time firmer. "Wait 'til I've finished the pizza," complained Barry, his eyes still closed.

The prod passed the challenge of waking Barry over to a small electric shock. "OW!" yelled Barry. "That hurt!"

"We have tried to awake you by less painful means," said a slow, monotone voice, "but these were not successful. If you wish to avoid an electric shock in the future, you must wake up on the prod. Now, please follow me."

For a moment, Barry didn't move. They were letting him out? He looked up at the white plastic form in front of him. An amber coloured light was blinking, suggesting the machine was processing something.

"You want me to come with you?" said Barry, slowly getting up. "I can leave this cell?"

"For now," confirmed the machine.

"Why?" asked Barry, trepidation suddenly seizing him. He had been in that cell for what seemed like forever. Why were they letting him out now?

Maybe they were about to let him go. Maybe he had served his time and they were letting him go! After all, he'd only attempted stealing a spacecraft. It wasn't as if he'd been successful. And it wasn't as though they didn't already have loads of machines, anyway. He bet they didn't use half of them.

He stepped forward, and then a thought he had been trying hard not to think, rudely barged its way to the front of his brain. What if they were going to do something to him.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" he said to the machine.

"I am not going to hurt you," confirmed the machine.

Was it Barry's imagination, or had there been a stress on the I of that sentence?

Barry hesitated. There was a definite difference of meaning between I am not going to hurt you and I am not going to hurt you.

"Please come with me," said the machine. "Failure to do so may result in pain or termination."

Reluctantly, Barry followed the machine.

Outside his cell for the first time in who knew how many days, Barry's first instinct was to run. He looked both ways, but was disappointed to find he was in a white-tiled corridor lined with doors like his own. At either end of the corridor was what appeared to be a lift door.

Barry surveyed the doors that lined the corridor. There were a lot of doors. "You have a lot of prisoners, then?" he commented, nodding his head towards a section of the doors.

The machine paused before answering. "No. Only you," it said. "You are the first and only prisoner we have had to store."

Barry frowned. Store? What a strange word to use. "But," he said, "you have all these cells."

There was another, almost puzzled, pause from the machine. "These are for storage," it said at last. "We store... items in them."

"So— this isn't a prison, then?"

"Prison? That word does not compute. Please supply a meaning to the word prison."

"Prison? It's a place you put people when they've done something bad."

The amber light on the machine was blinking rapidly again. Then it turned green, before turning into a steady, unblinking red light. The red light suddenly flickered and returned to a blinking amber light.

"Does not compute," said the machine. "Please follow me." It continued down the corridor to one of the lift doors. After a brief hesitation, Barry hurried after it.

As they reached the lift, the doors opened automatically. Once they had entered it, a mechanical voice asked, "Floor?"

"Ground," answered the machine.

The lift plummeted. Barry's stomach began to move in the opposite direction.

The doors opened on the ground floor, which looked very much like the floor they had just left. "Follow me," said the machine.

They stopped half way down the corridor and the machine turned and faced what Barry suddenly realised was an exit. His heart began thumping. Could this be a chance to escape?

"Follow me," said the machine.

Barry walked out into a huge compound busy with machines of every kind imaginable, but devoid, as far as Barry could see, of any kind of biological life. He followed the machine to what appeared to be the largest building on the compound, passing as he did so, a badly parked Citroen Traction 11cv automobile.

Barry's heart leapt. The car! They had brought the car here! If he could just recover the Inter-dimensional Navigator, he might be able to escape.

He gave a quiet sigh. No. If he could recover the IDN, he should try again to carry out his initial plan and steal one of the spaceships.

He watched as a huge inter-galactic juggernaut growled overhead, presumably carrying cargo of some sort. Maybe not something that big, though, considered Barry. Something a little more discreet. Then he would be on his way home at last. He could change dimensions once he reached orbit— that would be the simplest way of doing things.

They reached the largest building. There were many machines like the one escorting him there, but also machines with a humanoid form, with limbs and heads and what seemed to be an attempt at a rudimentary face.

His escort stopped at one of these machines, a tall, imposing figure with a red torso and black limbs, and a vaguely etched white face. However, that was where the resemblance to a person ended, as the communication between Barry's current escort and the humanoid was conducted noiselessly, perhaps via some kind of radio waves. Job done, Barry's escort turned itself around and trundled off.

"This way," said the black and red machine, indicating with a kind of paddle that vaguely resembled a hand. It waited until Barry was in front of it before following the prisoner.

The area they were in was busy with machines of varying abilities. Some seemed to have been designed for just one job, repeating the same action again and again. Some were standing in what appeared to be silent conversations with each other, occasionally pointing or gesticulating in some other way, as if to clarify points. Some were silently watching, heavily armed as if expecting trouble. Barry wondered what the trouble could possibly be, given all the machines that he could see seemed to be busy performing the tasks they had been created to do.

They entered a lift. The lift seemed to know where they were going, or perhaps the machine escorting Barry had silently told it the floor they needed. The silence of his companion was beginning to rattle an already nervous Barry.

He glanced at the machine, which appeared to be staring at something a few feet above Barry's head. Barry cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said. The machine looked down at him. "Where are we going?" asked Barry.

"To the Emperor," came the mechanical reply.

"The Emperor?" repeated Barry, somewhat bemused. "You have an emperor?"

The machine made no reply, but continued staring over Barry's head. "Do you have a name?" asked Barry.

The machine looked down at him. "Robot-A-four-three-zero-zero-one-one," it replied.

"Catchy," said Barry. "Robot-A-four-three-zero-zero-one, hey?"

"Zero-one-one," the machine corrected him.

"Is that A-four for short, perhaps?" suggested Barry.

The machine looked down at him. "No," it said.

The lift doors opened. "We are here," said the machine, giving Barry a gentle but firm shove into a corridor. "This way," it said, now pushing Barry ahead of it.

Barry walked. It was a long corridor, with lots of doors and other corridors leading off from it, none of which seemed to interest Barry's new mechanical friend.

Eventually, the corridor led to a pair of tall, imposing black doors. "In here," said A430011.

"Oh. Right," said Barry. "And the Emperor is in here, is he?" he continued, indicating the black doors.

"Yes," said A40011, and waited.

"I'll just go in, then, shall I?"

"Yes," said A40011, and gave Barry a firm shove in the direction of the doors.

"Right. Okay," said Barry, whose stomach had now gone way past feeling a little nervous. "Well, nice meeting you and all that. Um... bye."

He pushed open the door and slipped into the room.

Chapter 3

The Zugons

"There?" suggested Meven, pointing at something on the ground below them. "It looks like some kind of settlement," he continued, as Kemik and Carla joined him at the window, "and there seems to be smoke coming from it."

"Let's see if we can get a little nearer, shall we?" suggested Carla. She took a seat at the controls and started steering their spacecraft nearer and nearer the area Meven had identified. "Well?" she called out. "Is it a hill fort?"

"Looks like one," called back Meven. "And look! It appears to be full of people like you! I think this is the place Elian spoke about."

They landed their craft on the flat plain just below the settlement. "And do you think the natives will be friendly?" asked Kemik, a note of trepidation in his voice.

Meven gave a little shrug. "From what Elian told me, they were very accommodating," he said.

"Hmm," said Kemik, sounding unconvinced. He slipped off his seat belt and peered through the window in front of him. "Ah!" he said. "It looks like a deputation coming towards us— but what is that leading them? That is not one of our kind, nor one of those lizards you were describing."

Meven looked over Kemik's shoulder. "Oh," he said. "I think we've definitely found the right settlement. I think you'll find that creature is a human by the name of Durant— Captain Durant, to be precise.

"So, there are humans on this planet?"

"Er, no," replied Elian, "he sort of accidentally came with Elian and Barry, I think."

"And is he safe?"

"Safe? Well, he's a soldier...so...erm, well, Elian seemed to think highly of him."

"And is your brother a good judge of character?"

Meven shrugged.

The small crowd of natives and Captain Durant came to a halt just in front of the spacecraft and waited. Kemik and Carla looked at each other.

"Well," said Meven, "are we going to sit here all day, or shall we go and talk to them?"

"Umm," said Kemik nervously and glanced at Carla.

"Send the human first,"suggested Carla.

"What!" said Meven indignantly.

"I don't like the look of that human," explained Carla. "He looks rather on the big side."

Meven sighed. "Okay," he said. "How do I get out?"

"We could put down the ramp, I suppose," mused Carla, "but...I think the hatch will be more secure."

"What are you expecting them to do? Elian said— definitely said— these people were okay. And that includes Captain Durant. Don't you think you're being a little over-cautious?"

"Of course we're being cautious," snapped Kemik. "We're on an alien planet in an alternative dimension. This is the first time we've been out of our orbit, let alone inter-dimensionally!"

"What?" said Meven. "I got the impression from what Elian said about Barry, that you people travel space quite a lot."

"Well, we don't," said Kemik. " Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk is something of a novelty in our community. He belongs to a group who seem to have very little in the way of morals, or even common sense, come to think of it. They are... explorers who look for profit beyond our world, where our laws don't apply. We, on the other hand, are here to retrieve our property and, hopefully, arrest the thief. Once we have done that, we will make our way home as quickly as we can. Now, here—" he began opening the hatchway "—is your exit. If you'd kindly go out and talk to these creatures, we can get the information we need and be on our way. Off you go."

Meven dropped himself into the hatch and climbed down the ladder. "Um," he called up to Kemik and Carla, "is there supposed to be an opening or something down here, only I can't see one."

There was a muttering above him, and then a hum as a low doorway slid open. Meven ducked his head and walked out into the warm sunlight and a crowd of excited— well, he didn't know what to call them. He took a deep breath and said, "Hi."

There was silence and then a murmuring. Meven tried a smile and then, his eyes on Captain Durant, who appeared to be singularly unimpressed by it all, said, "Greetings from Bordeaux, France. I come looking for the being known as Barry, on behalf of his acquaintances, who are too scared to come out of their spacecraft."

"Bordeaux?" said Durant gruffly. Meven smiled brightly. Durant stared at him, before saying, "Are you Elian's brother, by any chance?"

Meven frowned. "You're not saying I look like him, are you?" he said hotly.

"A bit," said Durant.

Meven's frown deepened. "I have not spent all my life denying that I'm even related to him, for you to go and undermine all my hard work with a lucky guess. And I do not look like Elian."

"If you say so," laughed Durant. "But you are, though, Elian's brother?"

"Er... yes."

"Well, he's not here."

"I know he's not here. Last I heard, he was visiting relatives in the UK. I am here, as I said in the beginning of this conversation, looking for Barry."

"He's not here either."

"Oh," said Meven.

"I haven't seen him since he left with Elian.

"Oh," said Meven again.

A brief silence fell before Meven explained, "We think he came here before trying for another dimension."

"We? Who's we?" asked Durant, glancing at the spacecraft behind Meven.

"Oh, two— er— acquaintances of Barry's."

Durant gave him an appraising stare. "Acquaintances?" he repeated. "What kind of acquaintances?"

"Ones that know Barry well but aren't exactly close."

"What's he done, then?"

"Stolen something from them, apparently."

"Ah. That Inter-dimensional navigator thing?" surmised Durant. Meven nodded. "I always thought there was something dodgy about him," said Durant. "It wouldn't surprise me if he's a thief. I don't think he carries much in the way of scruples. Sorry. We can't help you."

He glanced again at the spacecraft and at Kemik and Carla, who were looking out of the window. "You could stay here," he said to Meven, "if you're... concerned."

Meven considered this. "No— thank you," he said at last. "I want to get home...eventually. I'll take my chances with these two." He turned and looked at his companions. "And what about you?" he asked Durant. "Do you still want to stay here?"

Durant smiled. "Yes," he said, turning to the Zugons behind him. "These are my friends. I wouldn't be without them."

Meven nodded and signalled to Carla and Kemik that he was coming back in. "Give my regards to Elian when you see him," Durant called after him, "and tell him it was a good decision."

Meven smiled and nodded again, and turned to board the spacecraft. "What did he say?" called down Carla, as he climbed up to the hatchway. Meven said nothing and continued up the ladder.

"He said," replied Meven, once he was safely back on the flight-deck, "that they haven't seen him at all."

There was a groan from Kemik. "So, he could have left from anywhere," said Carla. "That could make things a bit tricky."

"Well, it will pinpointing him," said Kemik. "If he had visited that settlement, we would probably be right in assuming he didn't go very far from it before trying another dimension. A few circular sweeps and we might have picked up his ion trail pretty quickly."

"Hang on," said Meven, frowning, "why didn't you just sweep Bordeaux and find out where he left from, instead of blowing my front door off and kidnapping me?"

"Because Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk dropped his tracking device at your home, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. So...he might have left from my front door!"

"Possibly," conceded Carla, "but—"

"So, why don't you start your search from there, then you can drop me off at the same time!"

Kemik snorted. Carla turned to him. "You think not?" she said.

"We had enough trouble evading the prying technology of the humans as it was," pointed out Kemik, "and we don't even know if he left from your home. You said he had a vehicle—presumably he could have taken himself a long way from you before trying to get back to this dinosaur world."

"Yes, but—" began Meven.

"Besides," said Kemik, "we will be able to find him far more easily here- if there is a trace. We can make a very thorough search of the area in this dimension without worrying about being seen and attacked."

"And if you can't find him?"

"We will try and guess his input into the IDN and follow him that way."

"But we could end up anywhere!" exclaimed Meven. "And nowhere near him!"

"Oh, I don't know," said Carla. "I think with cool logic and knowing Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk as we do, we'll be able to track him down eventually."

"I suppose we'll have to use a map of Bordeaux to navigate by," said Kemik. "We'll have to do low systematic sweeps for there to be any chance of us picking up what will be a very faint trace, if there is a trace at all."

Carla nodded her agreement and took her place at the console, where she began inputting to the computer. After some time, she said, "Hmm."

"What?" said Kemik. "What's the matter?"

"It's a big place," said Carla. "It's going to take some time before we can cover it."

"Can we locate the human's abode? I don't believe the thief will have gone very far from that before changing dimensions. We could start from there."

"Give me a minute," said Carla. There was a silence, a long silence, and then Carla said, "I think that's it."

"You think?" said Kemik.

"Well, it's rather a tricky thing, persuading a computer to ignore logic. And human activity in our dimension has changed the environment much more than the creatures here have changed theirs. I think it will do, but I have no objections to you checking my input."

"No, no," said Kemik hurriedly. "You are far better at these sort of things than I. I'm sure it will be what we need to do the job. Now, human, I suggest you adopt that amusing posture you held previously. We're about to take off again."

Meven scowled, but did as Kemik suggested. The pain in his left arm and his chest had subsided somewhat, and adopting the posture, as Kemik called it, was far less of an effort than it had been in the first instance. Nevertheless, it was still very uncomfortable.

"Okay, human," Carla called over her shoulder, "we're about to lift off."

The vehicle lurched as it left the ground, wobbled a bit and then began moving smoothly. "Okay, human," Carla called out again, "we're up!"

"Meven!" insisted Meven. "My name is Meven."

Carla shrugged and pressed a button on her control panel. "Engaging ion detector, she announced.

A rather irritating bleeping noise commenced, sounding out in a slow rhythm. "It will go faster, the nearer we get to ions," explained Carla.

"I look forward to it," said Meven sarcastically. "Is it okay for me to get up now?"

Kemik nodded. As Meven began to unfold himself and get to his feet, Carla added, "You should be all right, so long as there aren't any incidences on the way."

"Incidences?" said Meven, putting his hand above his head to stop himself colliding with the ceiling. "What kind of incidences?"

"Oh, I don't know. Engine failure. Crashing. A collision. Perhaps some turbulence."

Meven stared at her and began to sit down again. "She's joking," said Kemik. "Ignore her. It's perfectly safe for you to walk about, providing you don't stand up straight." He chuckled to himself, before adding, "This is one of the safest spaceships ever made." No more than five seconds later, there was an almighty crash and the spaceship began spinning out of control.

Chapter 4

The Robot King

It was a large room, though room was probably an understatement. It had the proportions an an aeroplane hanger, and all the aesthetics of one. It was empty, except for a black box on the floor and what appeared to be a huge television screen on the wall.

"Hello?" said Barry nervously. His voice echoed around the room. There was no response. Barry hesitated. This could be his chance. There was no one here to stop him. At the very least, he could get back to the car, and—and—what? He didn't have the IDN, did he? What use would escape be if he couldn't leave the dimension? And the robots would probably notice if he tried driving off in that old Citroen. Which he wouldn't be able to do, he suddenly realised, because the car had no petrol.

He sighed and ventured further into the room. The robot had brought him here for some reason, he assumed. He may as well take the time to find out what that reason was.

He walked towards the end of the room that held the large screen, looking all the time for something, anything; but there was nothing, at least, not until he had almost reached the screen. There, on the floor in front of him, lay a small something. It looked like— no! It couldn't be!

He hurried over to the object. Yes! He thought, it is! It's the Inter-Dimensional Navigator! He bent down and put a hand out to pick it up, but before he could touch it, it slid away from him and then up into the air and out of his reach.

"SO!" came a low rumble. "This item is of... interest to you!"

Barry glanced upward and at the screen. A huge eye now occupied it, its iris a deep violet colour and the pupil hugely dilated.

"Um," said Barry.

"Um?" said the eye. "Um does not compute."

There was a silence and then the eye, or possibly the screen, said, "What are you? What is your function?"

"Um," said Barry again, thinking furiously and trying to see where this conversation might take them. "My name is Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk," he said, and paused.

"Name?" said the eye. "What is name?"

"Er, a title?" suggested Barry.

"Title does not compute," said the eye.

Barry thought hard. What would a computer— and he was pretty confident he was talking to a computer— understand? "Label?" he tried.

There was a brief moment of silence from the eye, as if it was considering this later offering. "Label," it repeated. "Label computes. What is Peryzactle-ogam-dijkhamngon-barricomptzk's assignment?"

"Assignment?" repeated Barry. "Um, to get back home?"

"Home?" said the eye. "What is home?"

"Where I come from," said Barry.

There was a silence. "Here is not home?" the eye said.

"No," said Barry.

There was another silence. "Where is home?" said the eye at last.

"Somewhere else," said Barry carefully. Just how much should he tell the machine, he wondered.

The eye stared unblinking at him and then said, "There is nowhere else. There is only here. Somewhere else is wild, untamed, dangerous. There is nowhere else." It fell silent again.

Barry glanced away from the screen and at the IDN. It was spinning slowly in the air, just out of reach.

"This object," said the eye, as if it had noticed Barry's glance, "what is its function?"

Barry thought carefully. What could he say that wouldn't give away to much?

"This," said the eye, "was found on you when you trespassed."

"Yes," agreed Barry. "It's mine— well, a friend's." He didn't know why he said that. The computer certainly didn't need to know that.

Another silence fell. Then the eye said "You STOLE it!

"No! No! No!" said Barry hurriedly. How had the computer worked that out? "I borrowed it, just borrowed it! I have every intention of giving it back."

"Borrowed?" said the eye. "Define borrowed."

"Er, using something belonging to somebody else?"

"Is that not theft?"

"No! Sorry, I mean using something belonging to somebody else, with the intention of giving it back."

At this, the eye blinked. "There is someone else like you?" it said.

"Yes."

"But not here?"

"No."

"Where?"

"Another planet," said Barry, willing the conversation to be over before he revealed too much.

"Planet?" repeated the eye. "With life forms capable of creating this?" The IDN turned over and over.

"Yes," said Barry hoarsely, already getting the feeling he had said too much.

"What is its function?" said the eye.

"It—it navigates my vehicle," said Barry slowly.

"To where?"

"To where I want to go, and back."

The eye considered this. "Why did you come here?" it said at last.

Now it was Barry's turn to offer a long silence, as he tried to formulate an answer that would not give away the IDN's true use. "Accidentally," he said at last. It was the best he could manage. He knew it was a lame answer.

"It navigates? Through space?" said the eye.

"Sort of," mumbled Barry. He looked up at the eye. "I just want to go home," he said. "Please, just let me go home. I'll leave and never come back."

The eye made no reply to his plea. Instead, it said, "Is it the only one of its kind, this object?" Barry nodded. "A prototype?" suggested the eye.

"Yes," said Barry.

There was a long and thoughtful silence from the eye. Then the door behind Barry opened and two large and limbed robots entered. "You will go with these machines now," said the eye. "They will take you... somewhere else. This object will be further examined and either destroyed if deemed dangerous, or replicated if of use." The eye stared at Barry and then the screen went blank.

The two robots were suddenly at Barry's side. They each took one of his arms and lifted him off his feet. Barry struggled, but they held him firmly.

"Let me go!" demanded Barry. "Let me go!" The robots ignored him and carried him out of the room. "Where are you taking me?" Barry nearly screamed, as the panic began to rise."I demand to know where you are taking me."

"To be recycled," came the reply.

Chapter 5

Crash

"ARRRRGH!" screamed Kemik, a definite note of panic in his voice as he grappled with the craft's steering mechanism.

"What just happened?" yelled Meven, desperately looking for something sturdy to hold on to.

"Something hit us," shouted back Carla, "something big. We're just..."

There was another thump, a lurch and a thud, and everyone pitched forward. Meven's face, and particularly his nose, hit the padded seat in front of him with sufficient force to trigger a nose-bleed.

"Oh, dough!" he groaned, pinching his nose, trying to stem the flow. "Oh!" he sighed, glancing down at the blood that had already stained his shirt. It was then he noticed the lurching had stopped.

He cautiously peered over the seat in front of him. Kemik and Carla were already on their feet, checking the windows. It was now clear to Meven that they had crash-landed. He stood up and hit his head, yet again, on the ceiling.

Still clutching his nose, he made his way over to the flight console and his two companions. "Everyone all right?" he asked. He slowly released his nose and felt tentatively for signs of further bleeding.

"Yes, we're okay," said Kemik, releasing his seatbelt. "Oh, my," he continued, looking at Meven, "You didn't fare so well, did you?"

Meven grunted and peered out of the window. Everywhere was green. "We've landed in the forest, then," he said.

"Duh!" snapped Carla, rather, Meven thought, unnecessarily. She tapped a few buttons on the dashboard. Lights flashed. "Well," she muttered, "at least we've got power."

She turned to her companions. "We'll need to check overhead," she told Kemik. "We may need to make a vertical take-off."

Kemik nodded. "Unlock the hatch, then," he said, putting a hand on the ladder and disappearing into the ceiling.

Carla appeared to press something. There was a loud hiss and a clang as the hatch was opened, and then a loud "Hmmm." Carla got out of her seat and stood under the hatch. "What's up?" she called.

"I think," called back Kemik. There was a pause. "Yes," he continued, "We've sustained some damage. We're going to need to fix it before we set off again."

There was the sound of feet on the ladder and Kemik reappeared, a glum look on his face.

"Is it bad?" asked Carla, as Kemik reached the floor.

"Quite bad," said Kemik thoughtfully, "but it's do-able. We'll need the toolbox, wherever that is."

"Toolbox," said Carla, frowning. "What does it look like?" Kemik shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Meven. "Surely you know what a tool box looks like!"

"I've never had cause to use it before," explained Kemik.

"Well...well," said Meven, trying to think, "would your computer be able to tell you where it is? Might there be a plan or something that shows you where everything is?"

A thinly veiled look of surprise wondered across Kemik's face, as if incredulous that Meven was capable of any kind sensible suggestion. "Um," came the reply, "um, I don't know. Is there a map or a— a plan, Carla?"

Carla shrugged and took her seat at the console again. She entered something into the keyboard, waited a few moments and then said, "Oh!"

"What?" said Meven and Kemik together.

"There is a plan. Of all the craft." She peered at the screen.

"And?" said Kemik impatiently.

"Hmm," continued Carla, still looking, "I can't...Oh! We've got one of those, have we? That's useful to know... er... toolbox. Would that be Damage Repair Equipment, do you think?"

"Could be," replied Kemik, hurrying to her and looking over her shoulder. "Where is it?"

"Well, it looks like it's underneath us," said Carla. "Apparently there's a hatchway underneath our feet. Not literally," she said testily when Kemik tried to move her chair. "It looks like it's over in that corner," she indicated.

Kemik walked to the corner and stared. Meven wandered over to have a look. There didn't seem to be anything obvious. "It must be a very tight fit," he observed. "Have you got a torch, or some kind of light? It's a bit dark over here."

"Have we got lights?" Kemik asked Carla, in a tone that suggested he'd never needed to know where the lights were before.

Carla shrugged and consulted the screen in front of her. "Yes," she said. "We've got lights."

"And?" said Kemik. "Where are they?"

"With the toolbox," Carla sighed. Kemik groaned.

Meven frowned. "What about powder or some chalk?" he suggested. "It might show up the edge of the hatch."

"What kind of powder?" said Carla cagily.

"Any powder," said Meven, "so long as it's not the same colour as the floor."

Carla opened a drawer next to her and rummaged. "This might do it, then," she said, holding up a large lidded drum of something.

"What is it?" asked Meven, putting his hand out.

"Er— flea powder," she said hurriedly, thrusting the drum of powder towards him.

"Flea powder!" said Meven and Kemik together.

"You never told me you had fleas!" exclaimed Kemik.

"I haven't got fleas!" snapped Carla. "I brought it with me as a precaution. You don't know what you might pick up on some of these planets."

Meven unscrewed the lid and began shaking the powder out over the floor. "Look!" he said, suddenly pointing. "Is that a right angle?"

Kemik got down on his hands and knees to look. He blew lightly on the surrounding powder and then sneezed violently, scattering the rest of it.

"There!" said Meven, pointing. "There's a hollow under that corner. He stooped down, put his finger under the corner and pulled. The hatch door came up smoothly and noiselessly, and stood upright from the floor.

Kemik grunted, let himself into the hatch and climbed down the ladder, watched by Meven.

"Toolbox, toolbox," muttered Kemik as he began his search. "Oh! Torches! We'll have some of those...toolbox, toolbox...ah! This looks like it."

A few minutes later, a box landed at Meven's feet, and then Kemik's head appeared at the hatch. "Okay," he said to Meven as he climbed back onto the flight-deck, "grab hold of that and come and give me a hand."

"Well, okay," said Meven doubtfully, "but I must warn you I'm not much good at technical stuff."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm sure you're quite able to keep an eye out for hungry dinosaurs and handing me the occasional screwdriver when I ask for it. Come on, let's go before something reptilian and hungry does come looking for something to eat!"

It was surprisingly pleasant when they got out of the craft, and Meven found himself enjoying the bright sunshine and noticeably cleaner fresh air. Somewhere, something that sounded like birds were chirruping, though Meven couldn't locate them in the dense, rich foliage.

He followed Kemik onto one of the craft's wings, a rather hairy manoeuvre that involved them walking over the craft where it sloped.

"Ah," said Kemik knowingly, as they they approached the damaged part. "Just as I thought." Meven waited for some elaboration, but none came.

Kemik handed Meven the toolbox and knelt down at the edge of the wing. "Oh, not too bad," he said, now hanging over the edge of the wing. "Let's have a look in the toolbox and see if we've got something to loosen this bit with and something to straighten that."

Meven opened the tool box and presented it to Kemik as though he was offering him the choicest jewels or some fine cigars.

"Yes, these look like they might do it," Kemik, taking out what appeared to be a very long screwdriver and an even longer wrench. He head disappeared back over the edge of the wing. "So, a little wiggle here... and one... there! That looks better. Then... tighten it back up. Meven! Can you call over to Carla and ask he to operate the starboard wing?"

Meven slid down the wing and relayed the message. A mechanical noise followed and a shout from Kemik. "Okay! Tell her to stop!"

"Well," continued Kemik, tossing the tools back in the box, "that looks okay. We were very lucky there. We could have ended up being—"

"Somebody's dinner?" suggested a deep snarl. Kemik and Meven gulped in unison, as they looked up into the hungry face of a large pterosaur.

Chapter 6

Reboot Has Failed

"What do you mean, recycled?" Barry almost screamed. "What could you possibly recycle me into?"

"The grinder will strip you down, sort you out and send you on to robot Heaven," said one of the robots.

"Robot Heaven?" said Barry and the second robot together.

"The first robot looked at them both. "Error message," it explained. "Rebooting now." Its light went off and it let go of Barry's arm, leaving Barry suspended uncomfortably by one armpit.

"What?" said Barry to the second robot. "What just happened there?"

"Error message," said the second robot. "V1172#1 must be older than it looks. We will wait while V1172#1 reboots."

"Um," said Barry, after a minute or two had elapsed, "do you think you could put me down? The arm you're holding has gone to sleep, and despite this, I also have an awful pain in that shoulder." The second robot looked down at him. "Just until robot V1172#1 reboots," added Barry. "Please?"

"And you will not attempt to avoid recycling?"

"Not at all. I'm looking forward to it." The second robot dropped him. Barry landed like a sack of potatoes. He got to his feet, surreptitiously glancing around him, looking for a viable escape route.

"How long do you think V1172#1 will be?" asked Barry, shaking his arm in order to get some blood flowing through it.

"V1172#1 is already delayed in rebooting. V1172#1 will require on-site service if it does not reboot in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one seconds."

There was a silence and not so much as a twitch from the first robot. "Reboot has failed," said the second robot. "Must call maintenance."

"Oh dear," said Barry, with as much sympathy as he could muster, while wondering how far the sympathetic line would take him with a robot. "More work for you, I guess. Would it be helpful if I take myself to Recycling? I mean, you're going to be stuck here dealing with V1172#— er— 1, aren't you?"

The second robot stared at him. Barry guessed he was considering the offer. "Is it difficult to find?" This Recycling?" asked Barry. "I'm sure I'll be able to follow your directions, if you want me to take myself there."

There was another silence. "Yes," said the robot suddenly. "That would be...helpful. Maintenance have advised me they are busy at the moment." A small blue light began flashing on its chest and then a piece of paper came out of a thin slot underneath the light. "A map," it said, giving the piece of paper to Barry.

Barry took it and looked at it. The map consisted of a series of grids and a big red arrow with the words "You Are Here" printed on it. "Right. Great," he said, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, and started to walk off.

The robot stopped him and pointed behind Barry. "No," it said. "You need to go that way."

"Oh, silly me!" exclaimed Barry, and turned the map in his hand around. "Upside down," he explained, and turned to go the way the robot had indicated.

He kept walking in that direction, convinced that the robot was watching him, until he got to the junction of several large buildings. According to the map, he needed to turn left for Recycling.

He turned round to see if he was being watched, but found to his surprise the robot now had its back to him, still awaiting recovery.

How easy was that? That poor, dumb robot was obviously no match for Barry's devious, almost criminal mind.

Where to? Barry asked himself. The car? No, the car was useless without the IDN, so that really clarified what Barry had to do. To get out of this dimension, he had to steal back the IDN. Then, and only then, could he steal a craft and get back home. So, what was he waiting for? He knew who had the thing, and had a vague idea which building it was in. All he had to do was sneak back in and...steal it back. Piece of cake, really.

It took him only a few minutes to locate the building where he had been interrogated by The Eye. It was definitely The Eye for Barry, now. Not merely a noun, but a title. Or, as The Eye would understand it, a label. Though, thought Barry as he carefully pushed open the door, there was definitely more status in the acquisition of a title than a label. Parcels had labels. Kings had titles. See? Big difference. He slipped through the crack in the door.

It was dark. Very dark. Barry couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. Ah, he thought, this is going to be tricky. His hands out in front of him, he walked forward slowly, in what he hoped was a straight line towards the screen.

He had taken several steps before it occurred to him that, unless he was able to turn a light on, he wasn't going to be able to find his way out of the room, whether he found the IDN or not.

He turned and looked behind him. There was no indication of the doorway, no illuminated straight edge where the light spilled in through the gap between frame and door.

He stood motionless, trying to think. Could he go back and get a torch? From where? Could he even find his way back to the door, let alone find his way across this room and locate the IDN— if it was still there?

Dumb plan! he chastised himself. As usual, you didn't think it through.

He walked back to the wall and door, his hands stretched out in front of him. He reached the wall with a few steps and sighed with relief. Now he had the wall, he could find the door, surely.

He went left first, feeling with his fingers, hoping for a texture that was different, or the crease of a gap, while at the same time counting the number of sidesteps he had taken. "Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty—" Did that feel different, just there? He felt again. No. It was just his imagination. Now, where had he counted to? It was twenty something, wasn't it? Twenty-one? He wasn't sure, but twenty-one would be nearer than starting from one. Hang on, though. Was I going left or right? Left? I'm sure it was left. Wasn't it?

He went left anyway, resuming his counting at twenty-one, because to do otherwise would leave him acknowledging just how lost he already was, here, in the dark, with no way out.

Surely he should have reached the door by now, he told himself. He hadn't gone that far towards the screen before realising the dreadful mistake he was about to make, had he? Panic was beginning to rise. He quelled it. This was not the time for panic; panic would just result in more errors.

He leaned his forehead against the wall for a moment. The obvious thing to do was to go back, beyond this part of the wall he'd already tried, and hope he had just—

His thought process stopped as he suddenly pitched forward into space. He landed with a grunt and on his face.

He got up onto his knees and looked around him and behind him. He had found a door, all right, but not the one he had been looking for. This door led to a passageway that was lit along its length at floor level.

Relieved at last to have some light, he decided to explore this passageway first, rather than dealing with the uncertainty of the lightless room behind him.

As he walked along it, he began to notice a low level hum that seemed to come from the wall to his left. Curious, he put his ear to the wall and listened. The noise was definitely louder. Barry wondered briefly what was making it, but he didn't dwell on the probabilities for very long.

He carried on walking for some time along what now seemed an endless corridor. The unease and panic he had felt in the dark room began to revisit him. Surely the building wasn't this big. Just as he was beginning to debate with himself whether to abandon the passageway and revisit the room, he came to what appeared to be a door. It had no handle and no visible hinges, and occupied the finest of recesses.

Tentatively, Barry put his hand out and touched the door. With a faint shhh, it slid open. Barry hesitated and then stepped through. And was hit by a bolt of electricity. "What is it?" said someone.

 "Does not compute," came the reply.

First attempt at the cover

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