Destination: Saturn

IV

They went into the ground-floor study. Ajax went over to the far wall where, in lone splendor, a superb and incredibly expensive original Emshwiller hung in a platinum frame. Night was coming on, and as the last rays of the Arctic sun drew their ruddy and lingering caress across the row of evergreens beside Great Slave Lake, the floor-to-ceiling glass window slowly polarized itself into opacity, displaying a full-length portrait of Ajax the First in full dress uniform, with the purple, gold and crimson Ajaxian national flag behind him. Etched into the glass windowpane by focused ion-beams, the portrait was only visible when the polarization was in effect. The result transformed a cozy if slightly pretentious study into something as monumental and national-shrinish as Westminster Abbey.

Ajax pressed his right hand at a radio-sensitive place in the picture frame. An electronic “key” implanted in the gold signet ring he wore unlocked something, and he drew the rare painting aside, revealing a private interplanetary videophone installation almost as expensive as the mid-20th Century masterpiece it was concealed behind.

Adroitly, he activated the mechanism, while saying, “Now, my dear, you’ll shortly see the folly of yielding to female impulses and whims. Ajaxia will be safe and the Wuj securely in command, with naught to disturb the tranquility of my royal realm.”

Emily set her small jaw stubbornly.

“I sure hope so, Ajax, but—if you’re wrong—then don’t blame me for saying I told you so!”

“Never fear.” He smiled complacently and dialed the number. There was a wait of several minutes while connections were made, then a brief delay while his photonic signal went winging many millions of miles through space. Across the gap of interplanetary space, they heard the phone ringing. It rang and rang. Finally, the squeaky, solemn voice of their friend the Wuj came to them from the receiver.

“Independent Kingdom of Ajaxia, good afternoon, sir or madam. Prime Minister speaking.”

Turning to tip a significant wink at Emily, Ajax said with odd emphasis, “Heigh-Ho, Wuj! How is everything—and what’s wrong with your visual at that end?”

There was a curious pause. Then…

“Who is speaking, please?”

“Who’s speaking? Who d’you think is speaking? Me! King Ajax, of course!”

Again came the annoying lag which was the one thing Ajax disliked most about modern interplanetary communications. No matter how the technicians improved their gadgetry, they could not come up with a method to make light travel faster than light. The light-lag between Earth and Ajaxia was only a handful of seconds; but what would happen when even distant Pluto on the edge of the Solar System was colonized, as it eventually would be? How could you conduct a conversation between two parties when you had to wait minutes between question and reply?

“King who?” asked the Wuj squeakily.

“King Ajax, your beloved leader! Heigh-Ho, Wuj! What’s the matter with you? Is anything going on at Ajaxia?”

The Wuj stated solemnly, “You are an impostor, sir, and it is a capital crime to impersonate reigning royalty. I shall now switch on the visual and expose you for a foolish hoaxer. One moment, please.”

Fuming, Ajax turned a bewildered look at Emily.

“He’s gone nuts! He doesn’t seem to recognize me, me, his beloved leader, his beneficent and Imperial sovereign!”

They waited. The video screen became a swirling haze of intermingled hues that gradually focused into the features of the loyal little Martian. They saw a furry, reddish basketball perched precariously atop eight thin, spiderish legs. A face like a sad Pekinese dog peered at them solemnly, great green compound eyes twinkling.

Ajax impatiently started to speak, but the Wuj’s comment dried up the strings of speech. “An amazing impersonation, sir! Although it little becomes the highest ranking public official of the Kingdom to congratulate a hoaxer on technical, though criminous, expertise—may I say your disguise is impressively similar to the royal features of my monarch?”

Ajax gaped blankly and fumbled helplessly, trying to think of something to say. The situation seemed mad, impossible, nightmarish.

“But, Wuj” he stammered, “I am your monarch! I am Ajax Calkins! Don’t you recognize your beloved leader?”

The furry snout wrinkled in a disbelieving smile.

“Despite the resemblance, which is, as I have already stated, impressively realistic, sir, I know this to be an untruth. For both King Ajax and his consort-to-be, Miss Emily Hackenschmidt, are still here on Ajaxia … they are, in fact, right in the next room.”

While the stunned Ajax groped feebly for a rejoinder to this startling item of information, Emily pushed him from the instrument and addressed the Wuj herself.

“Wuj! This is Emily… We demand to see the truth of your words for ourselves.”

The Wuj shrugged politely—a rather interesting sight, since he had eight shoulders to shrug—and did something to the controls at his end. The screen blanked momentarily, then cleared, showing a view of one of the other rooms which Ajax and Emily recognized as a storeroom currently housing some of the more interesting and advanced mechanisms of the Asteroidal trove. There, busily taking inventory were—themselves! Two exact likenesses of Emily and Ajax, complete to the smallest, most insignificant detail, with calm, impassive faces were rifling through the scientific treasures of Ajaxia!

“Having seen for yourselves,” the squeaky voice of the Wuj said, “you will I hope realize the futility of continuing your hoax. Farewell, and be warned that any further attempts to impersonate the royal Ajax will be met by the sternest rigors of Ajaxian law.”

The spiderman hung up.

White-faced, Emily and Ajax stared at each other.

“I told you so,” said Emily. Ajax groaned.