Episode Thirty Vegas, Elvis, and Twinkies
“Isabella! No!” her father shouted in shock.
“Yes, Father, and you cannot refuse a request for asylum made to you by another member of the Robesson Royal Family.” The king left the room in a huff.
“Please release my husband, so that we may go to our room. We are very tired. Thank you.”
“Sam, the King will not take this well,” whispered Justin as he helped them to her room. “He’s been bragging about Tarek Ikari’s capture. He wants still photos, vid-clips, and flyers circulated all around the kingdom about the capture, torture, and imminent death of this particular Galt tracker. And then there’s the head on the stick thing. I’m worried about you and him.”
“Thanks, Justin, we appreciate it. But don’t worry about us, if we’re together we’ll be okay.” Justin nodded and left them alone in her room.
“Sam, I... Nobody’s ever stood up for me like that before in my whole life. Thank you. Why did you do it, save me from the king, and request asylum for me?”
“Because I love you.” He hugged her and pressed a gentle kiss on her head.
“But many of those accusations were true, I did deceive you. I misrepresented myself to you. I was ordered by High Council to track and kill you. I broke into your apartment, I went through your things, I fingered your…”
“Stop! I get it. You violated my privacy. You stalked me. It’s creepy and smacks of perversion. Aren’t there laws against that?”
”Yes, there certainly are on Earth, but not on this planet. I am truly sorry. Please don’t be angry, I was just trying to figure out who you were. It was before I got to know you. And when I finally did get to know you, I... Please, Love, forgive me.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. I forgive you.” She hugged him gently and got him seated comfortably. “Now, are you okay?”
“Yes, don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look.”
“What can we get you? Food? Water?” He shook his head no. “How about some wine?”
“Okay.” Cora left the room. Sam cuddled up next to Jaks.
“I don’t believe this is my real home world, Jaks. I’m much more comfortable with Vegas, Elvis, Martha Stewart, Star Trek, and Twinkies than all this medieval crap. And now I’m highly suspicious of mirrors. I want to go home. Did we somehow get catapulted back in time?”
“No, Love. All of these worlds are all concurrent.”
“Was I born here? Am I really Isabella Robesson?”
“One of you must have been born here.”
“ONE of me? How many of me are there?”
“I don’t really know. Are we free to walk around outside?”
“I am, but not you. I wouldn’t venture outside this room without me if I were you until we know how the king’s going to react to my request for asylum. And still then, we have no idea what he might do. Order a secret pistol shot? An errant arrow? Poison dart maybe? He’s a man who’s very used to getting his own way. Why do you ask?”
“We have to find the portal back to Earth. Do you know where the doorway is here?”
“No, I’m sorry. I was so disoriented when I was dragged through, I can’t really remember very much but hands and soldiers. And then, the king, who I recognized immediately as my father. Steps. We went up steps. That’s all remember.”
“Okay. Then can we get to Galtari?”
“NO! Your people want me dead. Remember? I’m ‘Nasty Girl.’ I can’t go to Galtari. And if you went without me, you’d have to travel all the way through Robesson country alone to get there. It would be terribly unsafe for you. Why? What did you have in mind?”