Lenora thought of her oath. Think on my feet and rely on my wits and valor …
She turned to the others. “I know where we’re going. We’re going to the Director.”
“Yay!” cheered Lucy.
“What?” cried Milton, aghast.
“Correct,” replied Malachi. “Now go to him before the Forces catch up. I have every confidence in you.” She looked at Milton. “Show them the way immediately. I must go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Milton. And then Malachi was gone.
In an instant they were shrinking, shrinking at an impossibly fast rate as the universe and galaxies and stars all rushed by, this time getting larger instead of smaller.
And then they were standing in front of the sign again, Lenora fuming all the while. How had she gotten an answer for her patron? She didn’t see it. But this was not the time to figure it out, and so she asked Milton, “How can we get out of here if the Forces are coming?” For there had not seemed to be a way back up that slide, even if the room beyond the dark wall were not already filled with enemies.
As she pondered this, the glimmering idea returned. Lenora snapped her fingers. “Milton, if the Forces are afraid to come here, could librarians use this as sort of a hideout, like a … a…”
“A rebel base!” said Lucy. “Cool.”
“Exactly,” replied Lenora with a smile.
“Certainly,” said Milton. “We do have plenty of room, after all. But in the meantime, you should go.” He waved his hand. Instantly, a single tube capsule appeared, seemingly suspended in the darkness. “This is my personal capsule. You can take it straight to the Director. And … good luck.” He did not look especially confident.
Lenora did not blame him. She herself was, frankly, quite alarmed. Lucy, however, was simply giddy. “Yes, let’s go see Daddy! I can’t wait for him to meet you, Lenora! I’m sure he will get those Forces creeps straightened out.”
And so the girls climbed in, and Lenora saw something new—a large, brilliantly glowing label, twice the size of any other, that said in bright letters: DIRECTOR.
Steeling herself, Lenora inserted her key, and they were off.
After a speedy journey, the tube slowed and stopped. The door popped open.
Lenora got out, followed by Lucy. In front of them was a short set of stairs that seemed to be made of, or at least coated in, pure platinum, a silvery sort of extremely valuable metal that Lenora had learned all about in Metallurgy: From Aluminum to Zirconium and Back Again. At the top of the steps were some rather over-decorated doors, and above that the words THE DIRECTOR, also in platinum, and above that a gigantic portrait of the Director, which made him look quite a lot younger and even handsomer than he was. That was framed in platinum, too. Lenora rather thought you could overdo it with the platinum, but then the doors burst open and everything changed.
Several members of the Forces, disguised, of course, as librarians, came rushing down the steps. But the expressions on their faces were unlike anything Lenora had seen from them before. They were unsure, rather pale, surprised, and they were saying things to one another like:
“—what did she—?”
“—why? Where did they—?”
“—where is—but how—?”
Lenora couldn’t make it all out because they were babbling over one another. But this was exactly what Lenora had been hoping for. The Forces had expected her to run or hide, but instead she had come straight at them, taking them completely by surprise, and they had no idea what she was doing or why, and perhaps—just perhaps—were a little afraid that she might have some kind of plan.
She did not, of course, have a plan. But she did realize, for this moment at least, that she had an advantage and must make use of it immediately. So she grabbed Lucy’s hand and said, “Let’s go see your daddy!” in the brightest and most confident voice she could possibly muster.
“Yes!” said Lucy, enthused, and up the stairs they dashed, right past all the Forces. A couple of them moved as though to block them, then hesitated, and before any decision could be made Lenora and Lucy were through the door.
And there was the Director.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lenora and the Director
He was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk with nothing on it, a desk set up on a dais so that Lenora had to crane her neck to look up at him. He was the same handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair that Lenora had seen in the videos, but he was not smiling or speaking, just staring down at Lenora with his lips tightly pursed into a petulant scowl, as though she had spilled something on the thick, red, expensive-looking carpet. On his chest was a huge platinum badge that read THE DIRECTOR. The walls were decorated with many portraits of a younger and even more handsome version of the man.
The only other thing in the room was a machine along one wall covered with monitors and dials and switches and microphones. There was a sign above it that said TRANSMISSION CONSOLE.
Lucy, for her part, screeched, “Daddyyyyyyyyyy!” then rushed up the dais and threw herself into his lap. The pursed scowl vanished, and the Director said, “Princess!” while giving her a hug. From behind Lenora, all the Forces rushed up to the dais and placed themselves in a semicircular arrangement behind the Director. It felt vaguely protective and a little threatening at the same time.
The Director released Lucy and resumed scowling at Lenora. “So you caught her,” he announced. “I told you it would be easy if you stopped being such cowards.”
“They didn’t catch—” Lenora began, thoroughly outraged, but was spoken over by several of the Forces:
“Yes, sir, you were absolutely right as always, sir—”
“Of course, we just thought about you, and how bravely you would handle it yourself—”
“Without you we never could have—”
The Director leaned back in his chair, beaming and basking in all this praise, smiling and tousling the hair of Lucy, who gazed up at him adoringly.
Lenora had an idea.
“That’s right, sir!” she yelled over the din. “They did a fantastic job catching me. I don’t think anyone’s plan could have worked better than yours! And now here I am.”
One of the women behind the Director was staring daggers at her. Lenora stared them right back.
Now the Director looked puzzled. He turned to one of the Forces. “You told me the girl who had taken my Princess was very rude and not respectful. But she seems very intelligent. Are you sure this is the right one? The enemy?”
Lucy broke in before anyone could answer. “Lenora’s not the enemy! She took me to a huge slide and it was so much fun, and then we met a googol and grew bigger than the whole universe and met more numbers and then there was this really tall woman”—every single member of the Forces jumped at that news—“and—”
“That’s nice, Princess,” said the Director, patting her on the head. “You have such a good, good imagination. Almost as good as mine, which is the best, isn’t it?” He turned expectantly toward the Forces, and they said, “Oh yes, sir! It’s a great, great imagination. The greatest ever.” But none of them looked very happy. Not at all.