DAY 13 PART 2

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EXCERPT FROM THE LOG OF RMS HUMBUG:

A rare species of tiger lay on the sandy beach of the tropical island, chewing a leg bone. Don't ask whose leg bone, because I don't know.

I floated, despite the obvious holes sawed in my hull, less than a hundred feet away from the tiger and his beach. The tiger could not see me, despite how close I was. This was partially because of the holes in my hull, and partially because my builder and captain, The Ominous, did not want me to be seen. So I was invisible.

Within me, the last two CBers arrived, exactly on time. Everinne and Curio opened their eyes in the humming darkness. The overhead lights flicked, and they blinked. They stared at each other in shock.

“Did we die?” Curio asked.

Everinne shook her head with confusion. “Did you murder me?”

“No! I'm not the murderer, you are!”

“No, you are!”

“But you have to be the murderer, because I'm not, and none of the other CBers are alive, right? Right?”

“If you're not the murderer, and I know I'm not, then who is? What in the world is going on?”

A dark shape appeared behind them and placed a gloved hand on each of their shoulders. Everinne barely suppressed a scream. Curio turned to look at the figure.

“Hello. We are Q&A. We are sure you have many questions. Follow us, please.” The figure was humanoid, and dressed entirely in leather, but the wheel that it rolled on, the antennae sticking out of its chrome-polished head, and its monotone voice were all clues. Q&A was a robot. A robot that spoke in the royal “We”. Curio raised an eyebrow, and Everinne shrugged. “Okay.”

They followed Q&A through the red-carpeted hallway. There was nothing on the shiny black walls and above them, hanging from the ceiling, were ladders. I had been decorated by a superstitious spy, because The Ominous had wanted people to think that I would sink, and he liked spies' aesthetic taste. Every so often the walls were punctuated by doors, with shiny brass nameplates. Everinne glanced at the nameplates and could have sworn that one said “Air”, and another said “Amy L.”, but before she could look again Q&A had swept on around a corner and she ran to catch up.

Finally, they arrived at a huge door with an upside-down horsheshoe stuck to it. On either side stood statues of pineapples. Q&A pulled one of the pineapples like a lever, and the doors swung open. The first thing Curio and Everinne saw was a very large, very cluttered desk, covered in piles of papers and odd-but-friendly-looking paperweights. Then they noticed the huge painting above the desk. It was of a man wearing a hoodie, and they couldn't tell much else, because it wasn't a very good painting. Then they looked down, behind the desk and below the painting.

“Hello.” said a mysterious man in a dark hoodie. His voice had a strangely resonant quality, and was neither kind nor unkind. It was merely... mysterious, and slightly ominous. “Have a seat.” He gestured to two small boring chairs that no one had noticed before he gestured to them. Curio and Everinne sat.

“I believe some explanations are in order. Allow me to enlighten you – not that I know much about Zen – and afterwards you may ask your questions, provided they are not annoying.”

Curio and Everinne nodded. There was something about this mysterious – and yet slightly familiar – person that commanded attention. He continued. “First off, not a single one of your fellow shipmates is dead.”

[Insert long dramatic DUN-DUN-DAAAH here, because the butler – who, as you may have guessed, was Aldo in disguise – is currently in France]

Everinne and Curio gasped, but before they could say anything the mysterious man held up his hand and continued. “They are all aboard this ship, RMS Tiny's twin, the RMS Humbug. All the deaths were staged. They were orchestrated by myself, the unknowing staff, and any of your shipmates who had already 'died'. The entire point of this little caper may seem convoluted to you, but I assure you that, when viewed from a holistic perspective, it's really very simple.”

The CBers held their breath. The fellow in the chair clearly knew how to pause for dramatic effect.

“To understand, you must first know some facts. First, I am an inventor. And, if I do say so myself, a very good one at that. Second, my genius is such that I have acquired, among a good many friends, some bitter enemies. And third, the RMS Tiny, one of my first inventions, upon which I am constantly improving, has 'broken down' multiple times in the past year. I came to the conclusion that someone was vandalizing her. I called the police, but whoever was doing the vandalizing must have had contacts in the police force because nothing came of my calls. Then I set traps aboard the RMS Tiny of varying complexity, but these were neutralized within hours of my finishing them. Because of this, I drew the conclusion that I was also under surveillance. After that, it was only a matter of time before I came up with my plan.”

Everinne clapped and Curio gasped, both feeling that an awed reaction was what the man wanted. Half-obscured by the hood, he smiled graciously and continued, “My enemy, whoever he is, obviously wanted to ruin me. So I created circumstances that, if he found them, would let him try to ruin me – thus revealing himself! And what better way to ruin a cruise ship's maiden voyage than having a murderer aboard? So I made the proper adjustments to my wonderful invention – when I first invented her, she was a blimp, but she wasn't nearly big enough for passengers and I knew a maiden voyage would tempt my enemy the most, so I converted and improved her until she was nearly unrecognizable. I then invited you all aboard, and then every one of you who 'died' helped me to discover the identity of my hidden enemy. After all, no one would watch out for a dead person when all the living ones were causing so much chaos!” he paused and looked expectantly at Everinne and Curio, and they realized he was done explaining.

Curio asked, “Why didn't you just tell us?”

“Did you find out who your enemy was?” Everinne asked.

“Where are all the other CBers?”

“Who are you, anyways?”

The mysterious entity smiled again, the rest of his face still in shadow. “I would have thought the answers were obvious! I didn't tell you because you might have blown the cover of the 'dead' CBers, who are all in the next room, about to report their findings to me, which will hopefully tell us who my enemy is. And as for who I am, well...” He reached up and pulled back his hood.

Curio and Everinne gasped. “George!?!?!?!”

He smiled. “Yes, George is the disguise I used on board the Tiny, when keeping an eye on you. My other title, however, is The Ominous.”

[Insert another DUN-DUN-DAAH! yourself for the same reasons as above]

Before Everinne and Curio had time to recover from their shock, there came a faint beeping noise, and then a fireplace (which had also seen some time as a bookshelf, but that's a story for another time) that had been obscured by the painting began to rumble. It swung out away from the wall, and revealed a dramatic doorway and a set of dramatic stairs.

The Ominous strode through the doorway and up the stairs, and Everinne and Curio hurried after him. By the time they reached the top they were all very dizzy and out of breath. At the top of the staircase was a copy of The Scream, and behind that painting was a lock. The Ominous took a very large brass key out of his pocket and unlocked the lock. The entire wall behind the painting slid aside, to reveal a high-tech room, complete with tastefully sleek black and silver computers, headsets, swivelly chairs, and James-Bond-style handguns. There were also a fair number of CBers inside, all in spy gear. Two CBers dropped from the ceiling (where they had cleverly been disguised), rappelling down on spiderweb-thin wires and landing neatly. They did a complicated sort of salute, and one yelled, “Reporting for duty, Ominous SIR!” They clicked their heels together smartly.

Everinne and Curio peered at them. Underneath all their spy gear, the two CBers looked vaguely like Air and Amy L. The Ominous said, “I was just telling these two that we are very close to finding out who the saboteur is. What's your report?”

“On the port side of the RMS Tiny, the Captchas are dressed up as minions and planning to raid the Wreck Room!” Yelled Amy L.

Air continued, “And on the starboard side of the RMS Tiny, the engine has found a piece of neon yellow wool, matching that of Inspector Scotty's best cardigan, given to him by his mother-in-law's aunt, twice removed. We've also found traces of the same coloured wool in the other places you told us had been vandalized.”

“Hmm, very interesting. That's rather un-Captcha-like...”

Looking up from a large tastefully decorated monitor, Danie added, “The battle on the RMS Tiny's deck is still raging, with both sides suffering heavy losses, especially as the engine is working on turning off the Fictitious Personage Unreality Random Generator Release Gauge.”

Magic Dragon said, “We've also found video footage of Inspector Scotty stowed away on board the RMS Tiny, even before he claims to have arrived on the ship, and much before he showed himself to the CBers who were on board the RMS Tiny at the time.”

Squeak pulled down the mask of his wall suit, which was of much better quality than Scotty's. “The Unicorn and Giraffe Revolutionary Force has gotten bored and released our weather, but is now planning a full attack on the Bastille.”

John F.Q. stood up, his tuxedo crumpled and his headset slightly askew. “Torchwood just torched all our wood, Ommie sir!”

“What did I tell you about not calling me Ommie?” The Ominous thundered. “Don't worry about that, Torchwood's always doing silly things, like trying to blow up the Earth because one small fuzzy blob from Alpha Centauri crash-landed by accident. Anyways, continue with the report.”

Maplesyrup read from a clipboard, “Inspector Scotty claims that he was hired by M.U.R.D.E.R.O.U.S., but we called up the old ladies and they have no idea who he is. Although Jemima seemed to think that Curio had a thing for him.”

Curio flinched at the memory. “No way! Ew! That Jemima was crazy...”

Maplesyrup shrugged. “Those are just the facts.”

Curio glared at Maplesyrup, “Well, they're wrong facts!”

The Ominous spread his arms. “Let's not bicker and argue about who likes who, this is supposed to be a big reveal! Continue reporting your findings, please.”

BookWizard said, “An update on the Captchas: they've breached the Wreck room and have found a wrecking ball. Should we send the sofa to disband them and minimize the damage they might do?”

The Ominous nodded, and BookWizard typed some commands into the computer beside her.

Indigo swept off an in-progress-thingy-that-makes-you-invisible-adjustments-to-come-by-Leonard-of-Quirm and said, “Inspector Scotty is currently packing his things in a hurry, but he seems to have lost something because he's looking under all the beds.”

Forrest stood up and squeezed a large green sponge in her hand. Green powder puffed out from it in a cloud. “I found this in my room on board the RMS Humbug, and I want answers! Who is supplying you with this stuff?”

The Ominous's lips twitched. “I have no idea what you're talking about, or how that strange sponge got there. Anything else to report?”

CaptainRead said, “A group of diplomats from Russia want to declare the pineapple as the national fruit of Mexico, but want your approval, Ominous.”

The Ominous sighed, “I've had dealings with this group before. They call themselves the Diplomats of Randomnesss, and are very annoying. Tell them that Mexico doesn't need a national fruit, but if they need one then I won't stand for anything less than a burrito, which isn't a fruit anyways.”

CaptainRead nodded. “That makes perfect sense, sir! I'll tell them right away!”

The Masked Piester was busy trying on the Death costume, and so was too busy to give a report. Madeline spoke for her, “The Globulous Bubblefish have sent out a broadcast saying that they definitely don't plan on returning here ever again, especially not around the last week of June, and their very definitely not planning on experimenting on any sort of artichoke brainwashing, of any sort, no matter what anyone else says to the contrary.”

Winter Firefly said, “I've compiled all of these reports into a file folder and buried it in soft peat. In a few months, we'll be able to dig it up and feed it to the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal, who currently resides in the basement. This may not seem very useful, but I 'died' so recently I couldn't really do much else. I hope it was helpful.”

The Ominous nodded. “Very helpful, very helpful. Anyone else?”

Bookbug looked up from her Spy Manual and grinned at Everinne and Curio. “Isn't this amazing? Everyone we thought was dead is alive, and none of us was evil, and now we're spies doing a real mission!”

The Ominous nodded, smiling mysteriously. “It would seem that your mission is at its end. You have concluded that the bumbling Inspector Scotty is our vandal, have you not?”

The CBers all nodded emphatically, and said “YES!” slightly out of sync.

The Ominous clapped his gloved hands. “Excellent. Let's go catch our criminal, shall we?”

John F.Q. grinned. “I've already powered up the No-Gore-Teleporters-Which-Teleport-People-With-No-Gore-Involved-Also-By-Leonard-Of-Quirm-Probably-Finished-But-You-Never-Know-Now-Do-You, SIR!”

“You can always use the abbreviated name, John F.Q. No need to be quite that formal.” The Ominous smiled, and added, “Before we all teleport to the RMS Tiny, we should all put on some sort of disguise. Just because we know who the vandal is doesn't mean we should let him know everything.”

END OF EXCERPT FROM THE LOG OF RMS HUMBUG

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END OF DAY 13 PART 2

DAY 13 PART 3 (FINAL)

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A group of 17 hippies and one cloaked figure appeared suddenly in Inspector Scotty's cabin. One could have chalked this up to my engines being broken, but I had a feeling there was something more fishy afoot.

Inspector Scotty crawled out backwards from underneath his bunk. “Darn! Where in the world could my socks be?” He stood up, and a long-haired hippy seized his arm. “AH! Who the what now?!” He looked around, bewildered. “What's going on?” Two more bangled hippies grabbed him, and together the three peace-loving people dragged him before the slightly menacing cloaked figure. “Is this some sort of strange ritual? You do know that civilized people don't go around barging into people's rooms, right?” He looked up at The Ominous. “Are you in charge here?”

“Yes.” The Ominous's face was unreadable, but the hippies grinned and chuckled quietly among themselves.

Scotty pushed aside the hippies and stood up straight. “Then, in the name of the law, I arrest you. For suspicious dealings in suspiciousness, for persecuting an officer of the law, for owning a ship upon which murders were wantonly allowed to happen, and for smuggling Captchas illegally! Oh, and they're probably the ones who stole my socks and chewed up some of my important files!” Inspector Scotty pulled out a pair of handcuffs and did what no other police officer in the world has ever dared to do.

He handcuffed The Ominous. Strangely enough, he was not struck down by a stray bolt of lightning, and eventually lived to tell the tale.

Scotty stood back. “Harrumph. There. Anything you don't say or don't do will very likely be held against you in a court of law. You probably have your rights but I've forgotten them, so you'll have to assume that you haven't got them. You may hire someone who looks like an attorney for your court hearing, or you may no-” Scotty's eyes bulged out in surprise and his whiskers bristled with shock. The Ominous had just pulled his hands apart, and the handcuffs had broken like thread. Inspector Scotty gasped for air like a dying frog – nearly proving the theory that most authority figures are amphibians in disguise – and the hippies surrounded him, tying him up so securely that only his head and neck were visible beneath the layers of rope and chain.

The Ominous's face hinted a smile. “That's enough of that, now. You are under arrest, and will please answer all our questions. What do have to say for the fact that we have found neon yellow wool from your best cardigan in the area of the engines that were vandalized?”

“What!? I didn't do any vandalizing! What do you think I am, some sort of hobo?”

“No, just someone used to being an authority figure who isn't being entirely truthful.”

“I'm telling the truth! Who are you to accuse me of lying? Besides, I haven't worn that cardigan in years, I only bring it along so that my aunt thinks I'm wearing it and doesn't get mad at me!”

“Hmm. I sympathize with you only slightly. That doesn't change the fact that you smuggled yourself on board the RMS Tiny, and have been sneaking around suspiciously ever since! It's obvious that you are the saboteur!”

“But I was just trying to investigate your suspicious dealings!”

“A likely story...” The Ominous pulled a tool from beneath the cloak, pushed a button, and Inspector Scotty disappeared. The Ominous turned to the CBers. “I've just teleported him to an extremely strong jail cell aboard the RMS Humbug. She volunteered earlier to take him to my brother's hotel, where he will be dealt with appropriately, and I thought that it wouldn't be too much trouble for her to also take you all back home, if you want. The Tiny needs quite a bit of work before she can fly again, so of course I will stay here with her, but there's no need for you to all be stranded here, especially your hard work to help me catch the vandal. And as for that, I would like to thank you all, and apologize for any life-long trauma I may have caused you. Q&A can be quite a good psychiatrist, if you need him to be so.”

“Oh no, it was lots of fun! In a slightly traumatic way, but still fun!” The Masked Piester grinned and held up a pie, while the rest of the CBers murmured their agreement and prepared to duck.

The Ominous took a step back. “I do hope that's not meant for my face.”

And then another thing happened which had never happened before in the history of Masked Piester: she held a pie in her hand...

... and did not throw it. “No, it's a gift! I baked it myself, I hope you like it's ominous flavour!”

The Ominous took it gently. “Thank you. I assure you, it shall be put to good use.”

*  *  *

The CBers sat in the RMS Humbug's comfortably high-tech spy bar, sipping frothy milkshakes and talking and laughing as if the last 13 days had been only a dream. Albeit a rather funky dream that happened to have been real, and sometimes hadn't happened in quite the right order.

In the padded cell in the RMS Humbug's hold, Scotty patted his Scottish terrier, who had been hiding in a closet ever since he had come on board the RMS Tiny and met the Masked Captcha (a rather traumatic experience), and who The Ominous had fortunately not forgotten about.

Aldo and Glennis ate a delicious chocolate mousse while watching a beautiful sunset in France. The same sunset that the RMS Humbug flew into.

All important loose ends appeared to be tidied up, and the ending credits were just about to appear, BUT...

*  *  *

The Ominous stood on my sloping deck, waiting. He had walked through my long corridors, fixing broken doors, repairing couches, sofas, and chesterfields, straightening crooked paintings, and generally fixing up all the little things that had happened throughout my journey. He had sent the Larry's Larry Incorporated Radio Broadcasting studio pod (their transportable office, which they had somehow secured inside me) packing, fixed the damage accidentally caused by the M.U.R.D.E.R.O.U.S.'s helicopter, and set the co-ordinates of the TARDIS for it to find that mysterious Doctor fellow when he had need of it most (which happened to be all the time). He had herded the fictional characters back into the library, where they all found their own books and/or movies, and teleported the Captchas that he found back to their respective owners. And now he stood on my deck, staring out at the vast golden desert, eating a banana.

The sound was quiet, no one would have heard it if they hadn't been listening for it. The Ominous was listening. Four woollen paws scampered across my deck. The Ominous took a bite of the banana.

The thing behind him crouched, tensed, and jumpe- The Ominous turned around, shot out his hand, and grabbed it by the neck.

“Hey hey hey hey! Let me go! How dare you hold me like this!” The creature squirmed. “I'm just an innocent Captcha holding a spoon! Look, look!” It held out a spoon in a paw covered with a purple sock with a red-herring pattern.

The Ominous grimaced, the sock smelled terrible. “You mean 'Imaa just ncnt coco cptc hldi spon', hmm? You have a terrible Captcha pronunciation, 'Masked Captcha'.”

The creature sighed and sagged. It was about the size of a Captcha, but its shape was obscured by a long hooded cloak made from a patchwork of different socks. There was even a piece off of Inspector's best cardigan, which wrapped around the creature's eyes like a mask. It wasn't much of a mask, because it was very nearly the same colour as the creature's own wool. Because the creature had no fur – it was a knitted, neon-yellow sock monkey.

“You're too clever for your own good.” said the cleverly disguised sock monkey.

The Ominous nodded. “I know. Inspector Scotty was a clever red herring, I'll admit you had me confused for a while there, but when the CBers found the evidence of the neon-yellow wool, along with the fact that Scotty hadn't worn his cardigan in years, the suspicious activities of the Captchas became clear. I had been watching them from the start of the cruise, when the CBers brought them on board, but I had chalked up their skittish behaviour and random attacks on the Wreck Room to random strangeness until Inspector Scotty mentioned them stealing his socks.”

The Ominous took a breath, grinned at the sock monkey, and continued. “You are not one of the many arch-nemesises I first thought of when the Tiny began breaking down, like Lord-Of-All-I-And-Anyone-Else-Surveys, or The-Avenging-Dark-Avenger-From-Beyond-The-Beyond, or 2-bz-b-ing-evil-2-thnk-of-wrdy-title, but yes, this does make sense. The fact that Inspector Scotty thought he had been hired by M.U.R.D.E.R.O.U.S. was in fact you trying to get back at them for knitting your prison. You, neon-yellow sock monkey, are the clerk who tried to sue me for being trampled by a herd of people trying to buy Blu-Ray!”

The sock monkey slapped a paw to his face. “You really like your long, who-dunnit, monologuing explanations, don't you? However, I bet you weren't expecting this!” The sock-monkey drew a big pumpkin-orange button from where he had been concealing it inside his sock-glove. He raised a paw, and pushed the button.

Nothing happened for a moment. The sock waited a beat, and then yelled, “SCOTTY! This is Mission control, BEAM ME UP NOW!” The sock monkey glared at The Ominous, grinning slyly. “Just you watch what happens now!”

The Ominous watched, and nothing happened. The sock monkey frowned. The Ominous smiled, and said, “Were you expecting something more dramatic?” He pulled out an identical button from a pocket in his hoodie and waved it in the sock monkey's face. “I had the foresight to remove this teleportation/communication device from under Scotty's moustache. I doubt he can beam up anyone now.”

The sock monkey screamed with anger and frustration. “I should have killed you when I had the chance!”

“You mean right after the trial, with all those lawyers around? They would have called the police, and you would be in much worse shape than you are now.”

“I'm a sock monkey! What could be worse than that?”

“Life in jail. Eaten by sharks. Turned into a toad. There are a lot of ways your situation could be worse. In light of the fact that you sued me for a mere twisted ankle that was only marginally my fault, I'd consider your punishment lenient!” The Ominous paused. “However, I do recall saying that I'd turn you back, once you had learned your lesson.”

The sock monkey pricked up his ears and tried to look innocent. “I'm really, really, really sorry! It was all a big understanding, I feel terrible for trying to, uh, steal your banana just now.”

“You jumped at me with your paws out, ready to throttle me for that banana!”

“My plan had been ruined, I was desperate! And, uh, foolish... Anyways, you would probably have gotten better!”

“Hmmph. That doesn't excuse you from all the sabotage you've done to my ship. However, I shall be extremely lenient and give you another chance.”

The sock monkey looked relieved. “Will you turn me back? Pleeeaaaase?”

“No, you obviously haven't learned your lesson yet, so I shall send you to Tibet. Perhaps there you can learn some monkish wisdom, and I will have a good reason to turn you back.” The Ominous snapped his fingers, and the sock monkey disappeared.

From below The Ominous's knees, the squeaky voice of Dobby spoke up, “Very good showmanship, sir!”

The Ominous looked down, surprised. “Oh, why thank you. Now run along back to your book, Dobby!”

“But he stole one of my socks!”

The Ominous grumbled ominously, “I was hoping to have a moment here, savour the moment in silence and all that...”

Dobby looked up with doleful eyes.

“Oh, alright. If you must have a sock, take mine.” The Ominous sat down on my deck, took off one of his socks, and handed it to Dobby, who squealed, “Thank you, oh thank you, sir! Dobby is most grateful!” before scampering back to the library, where his book waited patiently.

The Ominous stood up and watched him go, then turned to look out at the endless dunes. He sighed and smiled mysteriously, patting my railing. “Well old girl, I guess it's just you and me again. Just like old times.” He looked off into the desert. “Once I've dug you out of here, and repaired your engines, who knows what adventures await!” He jumped over my rail onto the sand, pulled a collapsible shovel out of his toolbelt, and began to dig.

*  *  *

With all that said and done, the credits began to roll. They were long and expansive, and took just under an hour to end. You might think that that was that, and you would be mostly right. BUT...

They say it's not over 'til the fat lady sings!

*  *  *

In their helicopter, circling over their volcano HQ, one of the plumper of the M.U.R.D.E.R.O.U.S. ladies began to sing a song that was at once jaunty and sorrowful.

*  *  *

The words trundled into view, slowly because they didn't want to come, but steadily nonetheless because it had always been inevitable, and it wasn't a bad end, after all.

THE END

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