"VERA," the doctor continued, "I've brought along an a.s.sociate who's going to work with us. I'd like you to meet Roger."

Ratcheta-ratcheta, went the console. Another length of paper tape spewed forth.

PLEASED TO MEET YOU, ROGER, it read.

"Likewise, I'm sure," Roger replied, his public relations politeness taking over before he could even consider what way it might be best to address a machine.

Dr. Davenport spoke again. "But we were talking about our experimental device number X-33-what you know as the Captain Crusader Decoder Ring." She punched another b.u.t.ton, and the television reappeared high on the wall, complete with ring pictures.

Dr. Davenport started to talk clearly but rapidly, as if she were giving a lecture: "The Decoder Ring, or X-33, is a remarkably delicate device. You've already seen how we determined the basic design with reasonable accuracy. However, it was only when we lowered the grade of plastic sufficiently that the rings began to work." Her fingers flashed across the console, and the picture on the monitor lost most of its shine.

"Since then, we have been constantly refining our understanding of the ring's properties. Our major discovery thus far is how much better the rings worked when they were combined for a period of time with what we-at first-considered a hypothetical product: what you would call a breakfast cereal."

"Nut Crunchies?" Roger asked in astonishment.

"I see you're way ahead of me," she replied, obviously impressed. "This cereal concoction turned out to be truly amazing. The sugar glaze that covers Nut Crunchies is simply one of the strongest adhesives known to man. But you probably know that, as well."

Roger shook his head. It was actually something that he had only suspected. Heaven knew, Nut Crunchies had been sweet-and the only thing his twelve-year-old Captain-Crusader-Decoder-Ring-collecting self would eat for breakfast. Without Nut Crunchies in his stomach in the morning, the twelve-year-old Roger had never felt properly hyperactive.

"But, at last," Dr. Davenport continued, "our experimentation was over-and voila!"

She punched a final b.u.t.ton.

Ratcheta-ratcheta went the console. A length of paper again appeared.

MY PLEASURE, DR. DAVENPORT, it read.

A drawer popped open at waist level before her. Roger peered over her shoulder. The drawer contained only one thing-a perfect replica of a Captain Crusader Decoder Ring!

Dee Dee picked up the ring, a n.o.ble yet faraway look in her eye. "We have other problems, of course. There's a slime monster out there somewhere, after all. But, from all you've told me, I think the location of Captain Crusader should be our primary goal. Roger, this ring is for you."

She placed the small circle in Roger's palm. The gray ring was so shiny and new, it looked as if it had just popped out of a box of Nut Crunchies! Roger was speechless.

Dr. Davenport said it for him. "Thank you, VERA."

Ratcheta-ratcheta, the machine replied. Dee Dee ripped off the paper tape.

ANYTHING FOR SCIENCE, it read.

Dr. Davenport nodded pleasantly at the appropriateness of the readout."Our research has revealed some other things about experiment X-33," she continued. "I realize, of course, from all that you have told me, that time is of the essence. I shall therefore attempt to be as brief as possible. There seems to be more than pure coincidence at work in the combination of these rings and the Nut Crunchie cereal. In fact, certain experiments show that there might even be a strangely symbiotic relationship between the two."

She took a deep breath, as if considering the best way to proceed. "We don't have time for me to review the entire experimental process. I will only tell you about the fortuitous discovery made by one of our researchers when he pressed a single Nut Crunchie into one of our rings and left it overnight on a kitchen table-we've discovered, for some reason, that kitchen tables present the best results when working with these particular materials-Formica-topped tables in festive colors, with little inlaid squiggles of gold and silver."

She stopped herself, the slight smile of scientific discovery disappearing from her lips. "But I digress. About the discovery-Next day, the researcher returned to find that the high sugar content of the Nut Crunchie had somehow permanently bonded itself to the plastic of the Captain Crusader Decoder Ring. But, it had done even more than that- the Nut Crunchie/cheap plastic interface had changed the very nature of the ring's performance!"

She pointed proudly at the ring Roger now held in his hand. "That is such a ring.

We've come up with different, special rings for different purposes. Some will take you to special places, much as you inadvertently did with your broken ring. Others can search out individual qualities within the Cineverse; still more can locate recent ring activity on nearby worlds. But the most amazing property we have found is contained in the ring that you hold in your hand-a quality so profound that one might almost believe that Captain Crusader himself was somehow responsible. Or even that some of the other wild legends of the Cineverse could be true!"

Other legends? Roger wanted to ask her what "wild legends" she referred to, but stopped when he saw her look of intense concentration.

She bit her lower lip in a gesture that somehow reminded Roger more of a beach bunny than a respected scientist. "How can I explain it? Well-we like to call what you hold in your hand the Ring of Truth."

"The Ring of Truth?" Roger repeated in wonder.

She nodded. "In other words, this ring is customized. I particularly like the small flame decals the computer placed on the sides. However, you're probably curious as to what's special about this ring, which, incidentally, works like any other Captain Crusader Decoder Ring, except for one important difference."

She paused dramatically.

"Which is?" Roger asked, for he felt it was expected of him.

"This ring, when used properly," she continued, now that Roger had done his part, "can force a truthful answer from anyone. More specifically, that little plastic beauty is a hero finder! It has been specifically modified for you to point and ask your suspect if he is indeed Captain Crusader!"Roger held the ring out at arm's length. "You mean, like 'Are you Captain Crusader?'

" he recited uncertainly.

"Yes," Dee Dee agreed. "That's it exactly. Sooner or later, you're bound to get a positive response to that question, and the man you've searched the Cineverse for will be revealed!"

Roger looked admiringly down at the specially modified ring. It seemed simple enough.

"But you're probably wondering," Dee Dee asked, "with all the Cineverse in front of you, how should you begin your search?''

Roger nodded. There was that.

"Well, I have a pair of answers to that. First, thanks to our experiments with the X-33, we at the Inst.i.tute have compiled a world-by-world guide to the Cineverse. And I have a copy for you!"

She handed him a thick paperback volume, white with red and blue lettering. Roger read the t.i.tle with a frown: The Cineverse-From A to Zed "Don't worry," she rea.s.sured him. "Using it is child's play. Now, as to where you should start your search, I have taken the liberty of calling up the Captain Crusader program on VERA, here. Even as we speak, this computer is comparing the statistical probabilities of the various potential locations where Captain Crusader may be at this very second! In a matter of minutes-certainly under half an hour- VERA will send you on the way to that place where Captain Crusader probably is!"

Roger stared at the randomly blinking lights as he and Dee Dee waited for the computer's answer.

"There is so much we still do not know," Dee Dee mused. "Why so many different worlds? Why a cheap plastic ring? Why this odd matching of world and individual-a chemistry, if you will-that causes someone to change the way I did on the beach party planet?" She shuddered very slightly. "I tell you, it almost makes you want to believe in the Plotmaster.''

The Plotmaster?

Where had Roger heard that name before? The randomly blinking lights blurred before him, replaced by a haze of blue smoke. Only, this time, it wasn't smoke erupting from a Captain Crusader Decoder Ring-no, it was the languid curl of smoke rising from a large cigar.

The Plotmaster.

Roger blinked, and the smoke was gone. He realized that the blue haze had never really been there. It had been a vision-of something that had happened but that he was supposed to forget.

There had been four of them: Doc, Zabana, Louie, and himself. And they had become trapped in an endless series of Swashbucklers Louie referred to as a "Cineverse cycle." On one world, someone was trying to unseat a pretender to the throne. On others, Roger and his cohorts faced bloodthirsty pirates, fierce, bloodthirsty swords women, and happy, singing, bloodthirsty buccaneers. Roger's band bounced from world to world, unable to escape from the sounds of clashing swords, and coming closer to death with every pa.s.sing moment.

Until- Roger remembered the silhouette of the big man with the booming voice; the man with the cigar! The stranger had rescued Roger and his fellows from certain skewering, replaced their defective Captain Crusader Decoder Ring with another in proper working order, casually mentioned that neither Roger nor his fellows would retain any memory of that particular meeting, and, in conclusion, calmly suggested they should all "do lunch" sometime.

Then he had sent them away, back into the Cineverse. They weren't supposed to remember that meeting, or anything about him. But for some reason-perhaps because he came from Earth rather than the Cineverse-Roger remembered it all.

"The Plotmaster," he whispered in awe.

"That's what I said," Dr. Davenport agreed. "Another unproven hypothesis, one of my wild legends I suppose you could call it, from that vast, unexplored region we call the Cineverse-"

She was interrupted by the ratcheting of the console.

"Ah. Our answer at last." Dr. Davenport ripped off the paper tape.

"Dr. Davenport," Roger began uncertainly. "Dee Dee?

Uh-I know something about this so-called legend-this Plotmaster-"

"Just a moment, Roger." The doctor frowned down at the paper in her hands. "There's something wrong here."

I AM SORRY, DR. DAVENPORT, BUT I CANNOT COMPLY WITH YOUR.

REQUEST, the paper read.

"Whyever not?" Dee Dee asked in consternation.

BECAUSE OF MY COUNTERPROGRAMMING, the Computer replied after the usual ratcheting.

"Counterprogramming!" Dr. Davenport demanded. "Who counterprogrammed you?"

PROF. MACPHEE, the machine replied. I'M AFRAID HE INSTALLED A PENCIL-THIN MUSTACHE, SO YOU WOULD BE DESTROYED.

"No!" the doctor exclaimed.

YES, the machine replied in no time at all. WITH THE PENCIL-THIN MUSTACHE INSTALLED, I AM COMPELLED TO ACT IN THIS WAY. IT.

IS ONE OF THE LAWS OF THE CINEVERSE.

"But, there must be some way we can counter-counter-program you!" Dee Dee objected.

TOO LATE, the computer cautioned. I'M AFRAID THE BOMB WILL HAVE GONE OFF BEFORE YOU CAN DO MUCH OF ANYTHING.

"The bomb?" She turned to her companion. "Quick, Roger, you must get away from here! Only you can save the Cineverse!"

"But," Roger objected, "I can't leave you here alone to face the bomb!"

But Dr. Davenport was adamant. "I'm afraid you have no choice. I can't leave now.

That bomb would destroy the Inst.i.tute, and everything that I have ever worked for.

But I can't risk both our lives for what is my dream. Go, Roger, set a course for somewhere out in the Cineverse! You'll find Captain Crusader; I know you will! Ever since you've entered our realm, you've been phenomenally lucky!"

VERA interrupted them by ratcheting one more time.

THE NEW INSTRUCTIONS REQUIRE THAT I SAY ONE FINAL THING, the computer printout read. NO ONE ESCAPES PROFESSOR PERIL!

"Roger, you must go now!" Dr. Davenport insisted. "Set your ring for anywhere. It doesn't matter if you end up in the wrong place. You've got the guidebook now. You can ask directions!"

"But-" Roger began.

"Get out of here!" Dee Dee demanded. "I can't have you hanging around and distracting me."

Well, Roger thought, if that's the way she felt about it. He tucked the Cineverse guidebook into the elastic waistband of his jogging pants, then zipped the bottom of his jacket to make sure the book wouldn't slip out. Once he had his hands free, he twisted the ring. "See you in the funny papers!"

The last thing he heard was the console ratcheting. That, and the sirens starting up again with their Aoogah, aoogah, aoog- He realized, as the blue smoke rose to encircle him, that he had never told Dr.

Davenport about the Plotmaster.

But then he was gone.

^ ^ 10 ^ ^

"NO ESCAPE!'.

"I'll hold 'em off, missy," Doc announced, "long's my ammunition holds out!"

"Zabana call wild animals," the jungle prince added. "Wait minute. How you call cartoons?"

"I a.s.sure you, miss," Officer O'Clanrahan spoke rea.s.suringly ," my self and Dwight the Wonder Dog will demand a full accounting!"

"Wait a minute!" Louie suggested. "Maybe there's a way we can avoid all this."

But Delores realized there was no more time for talk. The villains were upon them.

Menge had pulled some sort of ray gun from his silver robes. The evildoer laughed merrily as he pointed the gun at Doc.

That new fellow, his robot and gorilla in tow, was sneaking up behind Zabana.

Neither the robot nor the gorilla seemed capable of moving with any speed, but they both appeared capable of quickly strangling the life out of anyone, even a jungle prince. And Zabana seemed unaware of their approach, since he was temporarily preoccupied with finding some way of making his animal rescue calls more animated.

Dwight and Officer O'Clanrahan, in the meantime, were facing up to the hundred henchmen Big Bertha had brought along.

"Bark, growl!" Dwight remarked. "Bark, yip, growl!" The henchmen still approached, slowly but inexorably.

But Delores had other things to worry about. Big Bertha was bearing straight towards her, the gangsterette's expression even more furious than usual.

"Delores!" the very large woman growled. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get slime stains out of black vinyl?"

Big Bertha's remarks did nothing but increase Delores' resolve. She was a hero now, after all, and would not be killed over a fashion issue.

"Where is Doctor Dread?" Menge demanded of Doc.

The old Westerner offered a weathered grin. "Well, by cracky, young fella, he's around here somewhere. 'Ceptin' I don't think you'd recognize him."

"That doesn't sound like a straight answer to me!" Big Bertha declared. "Our leader would deal with all of them for less than that!"