Free Trouble in Warp Space by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

incorporate the new fight footage.” She kept typing.
    “Not yet. In a few minutes,” Frank said.
    “Before then, though,” Reid said, “we need to talk.”
    Sandy stopped typing. “Talk? About what? Could we possibly do this later? I’m insanely busy at the moment.”
    “Sandy, are you firing me?” Reid asked. “Are you killing off my character?”
    “What?” Sandy asked, surprised.
    “The official Web site says that I’m leaving the show,” Reid said.
    “And some fan sites are reporting that Captain Winter will be killed off and replaced by Ensign Allura,” Joe added.
    Sandy burst out laughing. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard!” she said. “Bruce, without you there is no Warp Space .”
    “Why is the information on the official site, then?” Frank asked. “Mr. Reid said that everything on the site is cleared through the producer’s office.”
    “That’s true,” Sandy said. “The Webmasters live in Renton, Washington, but everything that goes up has to be cleared from here. That’s how I know that nothing of the kind is on the site.” Her fingers flew over her keyboard and she quickly connected to the Warp Space site. When the Web page came up, she scowled. “We’ve been hacked!” she said.
    “Well, that’s a relief,” Reid said. “I was worried that you might bump off Captain Winter as a publicity stunt.”
    “Bruce,” Sandy said, “you should know me better than that. I feel about Captain Winter the way I feel about my dad.”
    “Who has the password for uploading to the site?” Joe asked.
    “The Webmasters, of course, and Rod and I have it as well,” Sandy said. “So do the studio offices. I’ve got it written down somewhere . . . um”—she reached for a sticky note on the corner of her desk blotter—“here.” She grinned sheepishly.
    “Not a very secure system,” Frank said. “Anyone could have seen it there.”
    “I suppose,” Sandy said. “Until now it didn’t occur to me that anyone would want to hack the site. A lot of people go through this office on any given day. I shouldn’t have left the password out. What a dope I am!”
    “Beefing up security all around would probably be a good idea,” Joe said.
    Sandy nodded. “Yeah. Given the troubles we’ve been having, I guess it would. Rats! Who needs this extra pressure?”
    “Not me, that’s for sure,” Reid said.
    “Do me a favor,” Sandy said. “Don’t mention this to anyone. The last thing we need is the studio bosses getting wind of more troubles on the show. I’ve had a hard time keeping them—and the media—out of our hair as it is. One more fiasco and the studio may decide to shut us down.”
    “Don’t worry,” Frank replied. “Joe and I have kept a few secrets in our day.”
    “Good,” Sandy said. “I’ll have the Web guys fix that page before it can go any further.”
    “Too bad we can’t rein in the fan sites the same way,” Reid said.
    “We’ll send out an official release denying the rumor, and—Oh, no!” Sandy said. “The shoot! We need to get back!” She ran across the office and pulled some new script pages out of her printer.Then she sprinted out the door. “I’ll take care of the Web site on the next break,” she called back.
    “Full ahead, warp speed,” Joe said jokingly. He, Frank, and Reid followed Sandy out.
    When they returned to the set, they found Chet and Gross working on retakes for the fight. This time, though, both the Slayer and the lieutenant commander fought with more caution and less enthusiasm. Everyone on the set looked tired, but nothing indicated that the shooting would end anytime soon.
    “Looks like it’s going to be another long night,” Reid said.
    Webb shot them a stern look as they entered, then perked up when he saw Sandy. As they wrapped the take, Sandy went over to consult with the director.
    Iola sidled over to Chet. “How’s it going?” she asked.
    “Pretty slowly,” he replied, his voice muffled by