MISSION TO MADNESS

(In fond memory of Karl Edward Wagner)

He had studied many worlds and the conclusion he came to was this: they were all of them mad. So he settled – for the time being, at least – in the Lantern of the Lost Worlds, where no one bothered to question such an ordinary thing as madness; and if he faced each day with laughter in his eye and on his lips, it was no smile of condescension, but rather one of constant surprise. For madness, Curran knew, had its rewards – for the active observer.

The problem lay in two facts: the first, that the active observer sometimes had to come into far too close contact with that madness. The second? That if one didn’t come into contact with the madness, one never had any adventures. In many ways his was a frustrating life – especially when you consider the obstinacy of his current shipmates – but it was adventurous. That, and the companionship of his shipmates, was compensation.

He was currently on Ullusk, in the Municipal Port of Sharsfryd, near Angio, the most active of the planet’s commercial centers. It was a bright day, the sun hot overhead, but the sky was gray and grim-seeming. Not an uncommon thing on this planet, for it was inside the Lantern of the Lost

Curran had dragged an old folding chair made of wood and canvas out of his starship, The Black Swan, and placed it on the scarred, heavy concrete of the landing field. He sat in it, reading a three-day-old newspaper from Pasquintain (and was having a devil of a time with the editor’s whimsical approach to Hyperborean spelling and grammar), when a musical voice about fifteen feet above his head, called out, “Ahoy, Captain. If I’m not mistaken, we’re about to have a visitor.”

He looked back and up and there she was, her hair wrapped in a white towel, a yellow one wrapping her torso, so that her soft white shoulders gleamed in the light of the sun and those legs, those strong, glorious, astonishing legs, were gloriously and astonishingly displayed. She raised her arms to rub her just-washed hair with the white towel and for a moment he thought the yellow one would simply fall away from her, providing any and all in the area with an even more glorious and astonishing display.

“Girl,” he said. “You need to go back inside the ship, and put some clothes on. I recommend those baggy trousers, the faded pink ones with the funny looking blue flowers. And a sweat shirt about four sizes too big.” In answer she came down the ramp from the airlock and ran up to him. He got out of his folding chair, almost knocking it over. “Didn’t you hear me?” he thundered.

“Of course, I heard you,” she said. “The whole planet heard you, and maybe the people on the next planet over. But what you said was so foolish, Papa, that I knew you couldn’t mean it.”

“Don’t call me ‘Papa,’” Curran said. “I’m not your papa. I’m too young to have an eighteen-year old – ”

“Step-papa, then,” said the girl whose name was Elge.

“I’m not that ei—”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious about our visitor? He looks so officious. He’s either here to hire you for some grand adventure in the near future, or put you in jail for some even grander one in the recent past." With a shake of her head she pulled off the white towel, letting her now dry curly, dark brown hair cascade to her shoulders. She clasped the white towel against her body, just below her bosom, which was better because it sort of promised more security for the yellow towel; but worse also because of the way it pushed up that bosom.

The fellow wore a blue stiff-skirted coat with gold braid at the edges, and lemon yellow pantaloons. He was vaguely human, which was how Curran thought of most of the folks he ran into in the Lantern, including many of those from his native Earth. He was thin and austere, his skin one shade darker gray than the sky, his nose about six inches long and supple like an elephant’s trunk, his ears large and mobile enough to be capable of flapping.

He yanked off a soft cap, revealing a hairless, slightly wrinkled gray scalp, and clutched it in both of his hands – which appeared to be ordinary – as he came to a stop in front of Curran.

He’d apparently come a half foot too close because he leaned back six inches from his waist and peered at Curran over the small square-cut lenses of his eyeglasses. He only had two eyes.

“And you would be the space rogue, Curran?” said the visitor.

“I would not,” Curran replied, with vigor. “My name is Curran, but rogue? Sir, I am an honest adventurer, a champion of the downtrodden if the truth be told, and if you are a seeker after my services, that effrontery just added a surcharge to your fee. Assuming your job is grand enough to interest me in the first place.”

“Oh, dear,” said the visitor. “I meant no offense, I assure you.”

“Don’t mind him,” Elge said. “He barks like a tiger but bites like a toothless kitten.”

“Tigers don’t bark --,” Curran started.

“Besides, our funds are running low and we really need the work.”

“Just how long have you been out of the ship, Elge?” asked Curran.

“It’s almost a whole minute,” she said.

“Then you need to get back. In the time you’ve been standing out here chatting, that crewman of mine has undoubtedly been dreaming up some sort of mischief.”

“M’lDeemer? I saw him napping in the pilot’s chair on the bridge not five minutes ago.”

“See?” Curran said. “Dreaming. Go back at once and keep an eye on him. And when he wakes up, find out what he was dreaming. It’s best to be prepared where he’s concerned.”

With a laugh, Elge turned and started up the ramp.

“Yes, Papa,” she said as she hurried.

“Don’t call me ‘Papa.’” Growled Curran. He turned to the gray-skinned fellow. “I’m not her papa, her real father is – ”

But the visitor was too busy watching the gloriously athletic movements of Elge’s rump as she traveled up the steps to the ship. It suggested to Curran that asking her to go back while she was wearing nothing longer than that yellow towel was probably not the best idea. But she vanished into the airlock and Curran judged that now he could arrest his visitor’s attention.

“Her real father was killed on Ollett four months ago. A skirmish with the Fellowship of the Black Cross. I promised him I’d look after her until she came of age.”

“And when will that be?” the visitor asked.

“Three months ago. And your name, sir?”

“I am Obrupt.”

“I have not noticed,” said Curran. “You conceal that fault skillfully.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me. My name is Obrupt.” He took care to emphasize the “O.” “Perhaps you have heard of me? I am an agent for various individuals and business interests on Ullusk. In that capacity, I have a proposition for you. It should be quite profitable, especially after you’ve added that surcharge you were speaking of.”

“You don’t object to the surcharge? That makes it all but pointless.”

“It will be lodged against my client, sir, not me. The greater the amount my client spends for your help, the greater my percentage for arranging the

“Which is?"

Obrupt leaned back again; it seemed to be a habit, if not a characteristic of his species. He looked both ways as if searching for signs they were being spied upon. That finished, he peered again at Curran and said, “Perhaps it would be better if we chatted our business matters aboard your ship, sir, where we could enjoy more privacy.”

Sentences like that always meant more money. With buoyant feelings, Curran ushered Obrupt up the ramp and into his ship and back to a cabin, not too cluttered, which he pretended was his office.

2

After the conference was completed, prices agreed upon, and Obrupt safely off the ship, Curran went forward to the bridge where he found Elge, now dressed in form-fitting brown trousers with a yellow stripe up each leg, a short red blouse tied casually just below her cleavage, and two crossed gunbelts fully stocked with ammunition for the two pistols weighting down the holsters that hung from the belts. There was also a knife in a scabbard and probably at least one other knife concealed in one of her boots. He had told her time and again in the past four months that she should not go about armed all the time. For one thing it discouraged young men from asking her out on dates. But she no more heeded him on that, than any other subject, even though he made it a point to set a good example whenever possible.

M’lDeemer was on the bridge also, sitting quietly in the co-pilot’s chair, short legs dangling above the floor, hands folded politely in what would be his lap if he had one, so as to show that he was behaving himself as Curran so often had to order him to do. The look on his short snout was supposed to be a smile, Curran knew, though it more closely resembled a smirk.

“Well,” Elge asked. “Does it promise to be an exciting mission?”

“Don’t they all?” Curran said, rubbing his goatee and realizing, by the stubble on his face above it that he had not shaved today. “Are either of you familiar with a planet named Minchmont?”

The smile dropped from Elge’s lovely countenance to be replaced by a look of astonishment. “Minchmont? You’ve undertaken to voyage to Minchmont?”

“I was hoping one of you could tell me about it. All I know is that it’s here in the Lantern somewhere –”

“Maybe it’s the planet where R’lyeh lies,” said M’lDeemer excitedly. “Long have I sought that place – ”

“R’lyeh isn’t on a planet. It’s on something else, entirely,” Elge said.

“I’ve heard it’s on Earth,” Curran said.

“I’ve heard that too,” said M’lDeemer, somewhat crestfallen. His crests were a set of handsome dorsal fins on his rump. “I’ve heard it’s in the specific

“It does indeed,” said Curran. “Seven, if I recall my history. But since we’re going to Minchmont and R’lyeh isn’t on Minchmont, we can ignore all that. You seemed surprised when I named Minchmont, Elge. Are you familiar with the place?”

“It’s the home of one of the Wizard Lords,” she said.

“Casingrim. Are you sure we want to go anywhere near him?”

“Casingrim? Oh.” Curran had not realized that. The Wizard Lords were a handful of powerful magarchs living in the Lantern, ruthlessly pursuing their individual researches and private whims. None of them quite matched the power of that most independent of sorcerers, Mesrick Dwaln, or that most insane of star witches, Aelon; or even of the most wondrous Meriem Abd Al-Azred, who spent as much time out of the Lantern as in it, and who was said to be the High Priestess of Cthulhu. But Casingrim had his reputation and it was not for being warm and cuddly.

“He has a library?” Curran asked, suspicion dawning in him.

“I’ve heard it’s the best collection of the Hideous Books in the Lantern,” Elge said. “Which is quite an accomplishment when you think of it. Just what is it we’ve been hired for?”

“To take someone there.”

“Why?”

“Which reminds me,” Curran said, less reminded of anything than desirous of changing the subject. “Do any of our astrogation charts show Minchmont?”

“Perhaps it is near R’lyeh,” said M’lDeemer.

“We don’t have any charts showing R’lyeh,” said Curran.

“I know!” bleated M’lDeemer. “I have spent hours pouring over our charts and I have never found R’lyeh on any of them. Or Minchmont, either.”

Elge was at the armillary, calling up a location search. “It’s not here,” she said. “Our passenger might be in for a hard time getting there if he doesn’t bring a map.”

“Fortunately, he has,” said a new voice. Curran spun around toward the newcomer in the entranceway to the bridge. “Or she has, rather.”

She was holding up a chip, which she passed over to Elge, who took it and glowered at it suspiciously.

“You can see it easier if you shunt that gizmo into the armillary there, child.” She glanced at Curran. “I take it you’d be the captain of this here zoomer?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Apologies for busting in like this, captain. I ain’t forgot my manners, not really, but I came up to the airlock and there weren’t nobody there, even though I asked permission to come on board three times, maybe four. So I sort of took the liberty, if you understand my drift.”

“Then you’d be Obrupt’s client?”

“Obrupt. Kind of skinny galoot, got a schnoz like a ephalunt?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Elge said at the armillary.

“Language, Child,” said Curran.

She was pointing at the globe in front of her. “It’s that blue dot there.”

Curran took a look. “Not that far from here.”

“Ain’t the distance we need to worry about,” the newcomer said. “By the way, you can call me Sadie.”

“Sadie? Just Sadie?”

"Well, you can call me Joe, if you like. Or even Ray. But you doesn’t need to call me Johnson, if you get my drift.”

She was a small woman with black hair and a narrow face that would have been prettier, Curran supposed, were it not for the squint in her eye.

“You know,” said Curran, “you look familiar.” “

Oh, I have that sort of face, that’s all. We’ve not met. It’s not like I’d be apt to forget the likes of you. Not that I haven’t heard of you. The old spacefox, Curran. But we ain’t never been face to face as it were.”

“Obrupt said nothing about you being a, er, lady,” Curran said.

“Now, why should he? What difference does it make? Aside from which, I slipped him an extra pair of tenners, don’t you know, to lie about it if necessary. I’m Sadie the Ladie, after all, and I have need to conceal my actions from certain, uh, rivals”

“Sadie the Ladie?” Curran said. “Of course! I know where I’ve seen your face before. On handbills. You’re Sadie the Ladie, the pirate. There’s rewards out on you.”

“Piker’s stuff,” Sadie insisted. “None of them amount to more than a few pennies. Not worth the expense of feeding me while they holds me in jail.”

“Most jails on Ullusk don’t feed their prisoners,” M’lDeemer said, brightly.

Sadie ignored him. “Aside from which, I’m reformed, if you know my meaning. Reformed as a Deacon. I got the religion.”

“I have religion also,” said M’lDeemer. “I worship Cthulhu! I --.”

“The religion I was thinking of is somewhat of a different nature,” Sadie said. “But more to the point, this job I’m offering you is safe, easy and this is the point I was trying to be more to, profitable.”

“And we still don’t know what it is, do we?” Curran said. He sat on the corner of the charting desk and said, “Does it involve Casingrim’s library?”

Sadie’s smile intensified. “So you’ve heard of that have you? Oh, that’s some library. The finest collection, so they tell me, of Hideous Books in this entire nebula. He’s got your Necronomicon, your Book of Iod, your Book of Eibon. He’s got a recording of Triknikium reciting the stuff he memorized, and that would have to be several thousand years old, don’t you know, because it’s supposed to be the original Triknikium. Among his books you’re going to find the Grael Skaith and the Mysteries of the Worm and so on and so forth. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of them weren’t autographed.”

“And which one of them are we supposed to steal?” asked Curran.

She gave him a scowl. “You got a suspicious mind, you have, Captain Curran.” She sniffed piously. “You’re forgetting I got the religion these days. I’m not stealing anything and neither are you, at least not at my behest. You’re taking me to Minchmont for the purpose of selling Casingrim something.”

“Selling?” Curran asked, surprise in his voice. Nay, shock almost. “What could you possibly have to sell one of the Magarchs?”

She leaned forward and her eyes glittered at Curran. “Why,” she said grandly, “nothing less than the Book of Elders itself.”

She fell silent, waiting for the shock to set in. Curran said, “I never heard of it.”

Now, that took Sadie aback. She stood up, the look on her face a mixture of astonishment and disappointment. “You’re breaking my heart, Cap’n Curran,” she said. She gave forth a great sigh. “Not that it’s a surprise you’ve not heard of it. Many haven’t. It’s not as well known as the Mad Arab’s work. Or Eibon’s, or John Dee’s, or a lot of others I could name if I had their names further in my mouth than the tip of my tongue just now. But here’s the point. It’s one of the Hideous Books. And it’s one of the few Casingrim doesn’t already own.”

Well, that put a different light on it. A different light, indeed. Curran took a moment to sort things out before speaking. “And you’re sure this is all legal?”

”If it’s not legal, then that girl’s flat-chested,” Sadie said, pointing at Elge.

“Hey,” Elge said. “Leave my chest out of this.”

“Dearie,” said Sadie. “The only thing your chest is out of is those clothes you’re wearing. If it bothers you, then you might take the example of a more

Curran was not of the opinion that Sadie’s costume was any more modest than Elge’s, but that wasn’t the direction he wanted the conversation to take. He said, “Let’s get back to the real topic. You’re sure you came by this book or whatever it is, legally?”

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out. “It’s legal on some planets, don’t you know. I’m no lawyer, which is actually a point in my favor, now I think of it. I got the book and if there’s some question about my right to it, those same doubts apply to anyone who has the ambition to take it away from me.”

“And just who is trying?”

“There’s lots, believe me, who wants that book. The Lustrum, for one. But they’ll not try anything too dishonest and they won’t come into the Lantern of Lost Worlds, at least not openly. I’m not sure they know I got it.”

“I’m only interested in those who might be less scrupulous than that,” Curran said.

“Oh, well that does open up the floodgates a bit. The High Priestess of Cthulhu might want the book. I had a sort of indirect run in with her a few months back and it ended up spoiling her efforts to assassinate that witch, Aelon. But I don’t think she wants the book that much. No, now I ponder the matter somewhat, I’m of the opinion we might have a bit more problem with this fellow Immis, whom you’ve probably not heard of.”

“Tall fellow? Enough like a snake to be Valusian? Commander in the Fellowship of the Black Cross?”

Sadie’s eyes grew large. “Then you do know the scudder.”

“Yes,” said Curran.

“He killed my father,” Elge said.

“I don’t think this is the kind of job we want to get involved with,” said Curran.

“Well, I’m involved in it,” said Elge, firmly. “Whether you are or not. Any enemy of Immis is a friend of mine, even if she is a prude.”

“And what’s wrong with being a prude?” screeched Sadie. “Oh, hold on, maybe I’m getting a bit carried away here. Does that mean you’re in?”

“It does.”

“And what about you, Cap’n? You willing to let this overly healthy young thing bounce around through the Lantern with the likes of me and no other?”

“I’ll go, too,” said M’lDeemer. “I bet your book shows where R’lyeh is!”

“Well, Curran?”

“I’m not letting an innocent like Elge wander around this hellhole with just the likes of you as companion,” he said. “Not to mention mentor. So I suppose I’m in.” Sadie clapped her hands. “That’s what I like to hear, cap’n. So show me where to stow me duffle and let’s lift gravs, as they used to say back in the old days. Once we get aloft, I say we celebrate. Open up the stores and just party. On account of we might not be able to party much later, and besides I understand you have a lovely assortment of wines and spirits aboard this little vessel of yours.”

3

The bridge of the Black Swan was pretty much it when it came to running the ship. There was a bucket for the skipper to recline in. It was on a swivel base that could be locked in place or not as the circumstances demanded.

On either side and to the back there were auxiliary screens and monitors, controls and doodads. Sitting there, Curran could monitor the ship’s engines, position, life support functions and fire weapons if he had to. Oh, and he could fly the blamed thing, too.

Elge and M’lDeemer were supposed to be crewmembers, but he hadn’t had crewmembers when he took them aboard and he didn’t particularly need them now.

He had found M’lDeemer on a planet where the population had just been wiped out in some manner and as near as he could tell, the fellow was the last

As a crewmember, M’lDeemer didn’t seem any more skilled than he apparently had been as a priest. But Curran had learned that if he only gave him menial jobs, he could be relied upon; and if he watched the young Ipling closely, he sometimes didn’t get in too much trouble.

As for Elge, Curran had learned there was no way to keep her from getting into trouble if she really wanted to get into it. She was an excellent crewmember, fully as capable as he was of flying the ship. But she was a young woman, free to make up her own mind and he had no doubt that she would soon find a reason – probably some harebrained young scamp who wouldn’t come anywhere near to understanding how lucky he was – and she would quit the ship. Her motto, she often reminded him, was, “I will if I want to.”

So he pretty much kept the idea in his head that he would soon be flying the Black Swan by himself again. Wasn’t the ship designed for that?

The celebration Sadie the Ladie wanted was never held.

The stores were safe and the ship’s spirits under seal. Sadie was disappointed, but she had no real argument when he pointed out that the proper time for celebration was when you’d done something that warranted celebration. Besides, she seemed to recall there might be a jug or two of killdevil in her luggage, now she thought of it. She went off to verify her memory.

The Black Swan took a curving orbit toward the edge of the nebula, though their destination was certainly in the nebula’s center. It was just that the only courses the armillary would plot for them to this destination took a long, roundabout seeming route. Since the situation regarding dimensions and quantum physics in the Lantern was nothing if not eclectic – actually it was aberrant – there was no point arguing with the computer.

After six hours, though, Elge took over and Curran ambled back to the ship’s small galley to help himself to a sandwich and a small bottle of stout. He found M’lDeemer there, curled up asleep on a bench in the corner.

Sadie was there also, and wide awake, nursing her bottle and staring raptly into nothingness. She looked up as he came in and said, “How do, skipper? We getting close to our port of call?”

“I think another four or five hours,” he said, checking out the cold box. He found mustard and cheese and a loaf of bread and started making his sandwich.

“I wouldn’t expect that if I were you. Old Casingrim’s gonna know about us before we gets too close to him, if you takes my heading. I wager he’ll have a question or two for us before much longer.”

Curran had had much the same thought, and he wasn’t sure whether or not to be comfortable with it. By reputation, the Magarchs could be prickly. Of course Casingrim didn’t have the reputation for downright unfriendliness that, for example, the nebula witch Aelon had. But he was just about as powerful as any human you could name; and if he wanted to he could make things truly uncomfortable for anyone. Curran’s plan of approach to the great sorcerer included the strong hope of finding him in a good mood. But there was no way to tell until you got there.

He was fully armed now, even to the rapier he wore at his hip. Sadie scowled at it. “Isn’t that a bit more sword than is useful on board a ship?”

“Not in my hands,” he said.

“Maybe not but it would be in mine,” she said. “I prefer something more practical. It’s close in a ship, the alleyways narrow, the bulkheads at your elbows. Something a mite shorter than that pigsticker for me. Something like, say, a good, old-fashioned cutlass.” She slapped her open palm on the sword she was wearing.

“Just how did you acquire this book we’re trying to sell?” he asked.

“What’s that?” she said. “How did I acquire The Book of Elders? Why, honestly, of course. I found it sitting amongst the penny dreadfuls at half a Galactic Credit in a small second-hand bookstore on Pasquintain. The owner of the store itself was utterly ignorant of what it had. And me in no likely mood to share the history of it, to tell the truth. So I suppose there was a sort of kinkiness to the transaction, but it was it that set the price, not me.”

Curran bit in to his sandwich, chewed slowly, washed it down with a swig of stout and then said, “And you expect me to believe that story?”

“You’re telling me it doesn’t have the ring of truth to it?”

“Something like that.”

“Hmmmm. Then I’d best work on it. I wouldn’t want that reaction from Casingrim.”

“What reaction do you want from him?”

“Why, I’d like a set-down with him to haggle a fair price, that's all.”

He saw he wasn’t going to get anything too useful out of her. To tell the truth, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for from her. He supposed she could be telling the truth but if he read her character correctly, he didn’t think it very likely. He finished his sandwich and stout without any further conversation and left the galley.

M’lDeemer’s head rose up and he blinked heavily as he looked around. "Was that the captain?” he asked. “Was he looking for me?”

“He saw you if he was,” she said. She corked her bottle and set it on the table. “Your name’s M’lDeemer, is it? Where you from?”

“I am an Ipling,” M’lDeemer said, sitting up.

“Are ye now?” she said, thoughtfully. “Seems I’ve heard something about Iplings. I thought ya was extinct.”

“We are,” M’lDeemer said, brightly. “All but me. I am not extinct at all.”

“So it appears.”

“A few years ago the minions of Cthulhu came and swarmed in the skies above my world for we were worshiping Hastur, not dread Cthulhu. All my people were torn limb from limb and the pieces scattered over the whole world. It stinked very bad.”

“You don’t look torn limb from limb.”

“Oh, I’m not. I ran into our communal burrow and hid and while many Iplings did that, I alone was not found by the minions of dread Cthulhu. Likely that is because as I hid shivering in the utmost lowest tunnel of our burrow, I decided that henceforth I would only worship Cthulhu.”

“And now you wander around the Lantern of the Lost Worlds, a-looking for R’lyeh.” She scowled. “It seems to me that if your whole species was wiped out by Cthulhu, you’d kind of want to put off a meeting like that.”

“Oh, no! I must tell Lord Cthulhu that I am his devoted worshiper.”

“And a thing like that’s worth waking up a thing like that?”

“I am very devoted,” said M’lDeemer with a great show of humility.

“If you say so,” said Sadie. She uncapped the bottle and took another swig. “So you really want to find R’lyeh, does ya?”

“Oh, yes,” M’lDeemer said brightly. “It would be wonderful if you could help me.”

The End Part One

Part Two