Facetious or not it was heartwarming. Bolivar and James were giving me cheerful thumbs—up signs, Sybil did the same and even Coypu was nodding in reluctant agreement. The only glum one was Inskipp, still counting his mounting debts. I rapped on the table with my beer bottle.
"I hereby declare this meeting of the Galactic Salvation League to be open. Who is taking the minutes?"
"My recorder is running," Sybil said, sitting down and putting it on the table before her. "Welcome home, Jim diGriz. You had us all very worried."
"I had myself very worried. What Slakey did to you and me in Hell—or to Angelina and me on Glass—is reason enough to pursue him to the edges of the galaxy and put him out of business. But we have more reason to go after all the hims other than simple vindictiveness."
Inskipp sneered lightly. "And just what is that?"
"I never thought that you would ask. I notice that while I was away you managed to lose track of him completely. Is that correct?"
"Loosely speaking, why possibly, yes."
"Speaking very tightly I would say that now is the time for a plan that cannot miss. Professor—how goes your universe machine?"
"Very well, thank you. The little matter of calibration will soon be licked."
"I'm cheered to hear that. How—many universes do you have access to?"
He clattered his fingernails against his teeth, forehead furrowed in thought. "Theoretically of course the number is infinite. Perhaps we even create these universes—when we enter them, as you suggested when you came back from Hell. But, as of this moment, we have investigated or entered a little over forty—one."
"Is one of them Heaven?"
"No—but we are still looking. While the machine we captured has settings for different destinations I have no way of identifying them without activation and entry"
"What about Hell?"
"We very definitely can go to Hell. You will remember that your son James hypnotized a Slakey and made him send Bolivar there to find you."
"Well that's, it, then." I sat back and sighed with satisfaction. "I could do with just a bit more to eat, if the sandwiches aren't all gone."
"Stop toying with us, Jim diGriz, or you'll get more than a sandwich in your gob!" Angelina suggested.
"Sorry, my love. I don't mean to make light of the situation. But it has been pretty grim of late and I was indulging myself."
"You're forgiven. What's so important about Hell?"
"Slakey is there. In his red, fat, insane, well—armed condition. Don't you think that if the other Slakeys could get him out of there—that they would? But they don't. Probably because it would certainly kill him, that's what Slakey on Glass told me. So we launch a little expedition to find him. And talk to him. An expedition in force because what one Slakey knows they all know. They won't kill him—that would be too much like committing suicide. But they will have no compunction about polishing the rest of us off when we try to talk to him. But if we get there fast, maybe use a bit of hypnotism on him, ask a question or two, right, James?"
"A piece of cake, Dad."
"We will then ask him to answer two incredibly important questions. Where is I—leaven—and what is the overall plan? It is imperative that we find out what the snakey Slakeys want all the money for."
"Do it," Inskipp said, a man who always makes his mind up quickly. "What are you going to need for this job?"
It was a good plan, and a tight one. As soon as Slakey found out what we were up to he would react. Violently. And he was well ahead of us technically. Coypu still—had not found a means of getting any operable machines into another universe. But Slakey in Hell had a working gauss rifle. I just hoped that there wasn't any more universally transportable weaponry in Slakey's hands.
Our advantage would have to be speed of attack. And numbers.
But our primary hit team had to be small so it could move fast. I would go because the whole thing was my idea. Then James had to be with me since he had to hypnotize the old red devil. And Angelina of course, she would not let me go alone. And of course Bolivar, who naturally would not permit a family outing without being present himself. We would go in fast and hit hard.
But our flank would be protected by two hundred very mean and obnoxious Combat Marines. They would be armed only with their hands and feet and combative know—how.
Which should be enough. They would be guided by Sybil, who certainly knew her away around Hell. Also, I had caught a number of dark looks from Angelina whenever she saw me talking to the female agent. Which meant that life would be a lot smoother if Sybil led the troopers.
My old companion, Marine Captain (3rissle, would be in charge of the troops and I received a message that he urgently wanted to see me. I sent for him. "No guns?" he asked as he stamped through the door. "A marine is not a marine without a weapon."
"Unarmed combat, they're supposed to know all about that kind of thing."
"They do. But they would do better with a grenade or two."
"They would fuse into lumps and would not go off. I couldn't even open the blades on my pocketknife in Glass."
"Bayonets?"
"They will get stuck in their scabbards. And don't say leave the scabbards behind. I do not relish the thought of two hundred marines popping through into Hell and falling all over each other with naked bayonets in their hands. But, yes, I have thought about it and think that something can be done. We will all be carrying weapons."
"What?"
"I will work out the details and you will see just before we leave. Dismissed."
It took a few days to make all the preparations, which gave us a useful breathing period. Angelina had had a chance to put some weight back on, four good meals a day helped, and we were all raring to go. Coypu had been fiddling with his equations and his circuits and had built a superior model of his dimensional doorway.
"Basically its just a matter of power," he explained. "Slakey had to conceal his machines, keep them small and out of sight. We have no such restrictions."
The new machine was most impressive. At great expense he had tapped directly into the planetwide and international electrical grid. A large, red, insulated cable, over a meter in diameter, led into the main ballroom of the hotel, now converted into an electronic jungle. In the middle of the dance floor was a full sized garage door mounted in a frame. I admired it—from the front only of course. Since it had no back. That is if you walked around it you couldn't see it or it wasn't there or something. But it looked sound and solid from the front.
"Take a peek and see what we have got," Coypu said, making some adjustments on his operating console. I turned the garage—door handle and opened the door a crack—then slammed it when the air began to whistle through.
"—All black—with stars. And lower pressure. That's not Hell."
"But I'm very close, that's the adjoining one. Try it now."
A red sun burned down from the red sky. I sneezed when a whiff of hydrogen sulfide drifted out. "That's it," I said closing the door again. "Shall I call in the troops?" "I'm ready when you are."
They were all waiting expectantly for the signal. Sybil and Angelina were the first to get there. Moments later the tramp of marching feet heralded the arrival of the marines. They stamped in, marched in position, faced front and thundered to a halt.
"Great," I said. "Stand them at ease and be prepared for issue of weapons."
"Weapons!" Captain Grissle's great jaw cracked into a unaccustomed smile.
"There!" I said as James and Bolivar drove in with the laden freight wagons. I opened one of the boxes and pulled out a bloated red form and waved it on high.
"A salami?", Grissle gasped.
"Very observant," I said. "A both deadly and edible weapon. Issue them to your men."
"You're not playing the fool again, are you?" Angelina said as she and Sybil looked on dubiously.
"Never, my love. This is a very serious decision and one that was worked Out with impeccable logic. Instead of fighting with the inhabitants of Hell, we feed them. If they have been resorting to cannibalism, a redolent salami will make Hell a paradise for them. However, since most of them are a little insane we must expect trouble. Then, in any emergency, you will discover that a ten—kilo salami can wreak fearful damage. And if we overstay our leave we can always eat them ourselves."