Escape from the Drooling Octopod! (11 page)

“Take us somewhere else!” the captain commanded as he and Bruzelski stuffed chewing gum into the tiny airholes created by the stones.

Commander Ives hit the aft thrusters. They burst out of the hailstorm — not exactly into empty space, but to where you could see the rocks coming at least one at a time.

“Give us a view aft,” ordered Captain MacIntyre.

Aft . . . aft . . . aft . . . Scilla couldn't remember what
aft
meant. Her ensign self knew, of course, but, in all the excitement, she'd sort of lost . . . herself.

“Get a move on, Ensign,” the captain growled.

Aft . . . What's aft?

“I'm on it, Captain — just a little technical difficulty,” the ensign said, feeling more like Scilla than Ensign Bruzelski.

Scilla had never heard Beamer growl before. But then the captain wasn't exactly Beamer, was he? She didn't think they'd taught her the word
aft
in her first six grades. That left TV and movies — oh yeah,
aft
, that's the rear, yes, rear view.

“Got it, Captain,” the ensign who was Scilla said.

Their view screen wasn't Star Trek size, but it was still twice as big as most home-theater gizmos. So, when the lower-left corner of a huge yellow planet filled the top-right half of the screen, it was a sight that took their breaths away. Circling around the planet was a massive set of rock-strewn rings that cut diagonally all the way across the screen.

“It's Saturn,” the ensign said in hushed reverence.

Yeah, Scilla knew all about Saturn. Ten times the size of Earth, it was the second largest planet in the solar system. Let's see, last I heard it had over sixty moons —

Blee, blee, blee! An alarm sounded!

“Watch where you're going!” the captain shouted at the same time.

The view screen switched to the front. Straight ahead, filling most of the screen, was a cloud-shrouded moon.

“Land — uh, moon dead ahead!” cried the ensign.

“Not the best choice of words,” the commander said as his hands flew over the instruments. “Whew, sure is crowded around here!”

“Get her nose up,” the captain yelled as they dived into the murky atmosphere.

They jostled around a bit, and finally the clouds began to clear.

“This doesn't fit at all!” said the captain. The surface looked earth-like. “Zoom in!” he ordered.

“Aye, Captain,” answered the ensign. The picture adjusted and they could see that the surface was covered with forests, lakes, grasslands, and waterfalls. “We're a long way from the sun. It should be as cold as ice down there. Which moon did you say this was?”

“Didn't have time to figure it out,” said the commander, “but I think the thick layer of clouds must have caused a greenhouse effect that heated up this moon.”

“It would be pretty if it weren't for the pimples,” said the ensign.

“What do you mean, pimples?” asked the captain.

“I saw them too,” said the commander. “Gray-colored bumps scattered a hundred miles or so apart across the surface.”

“And we're going to crash into one of them if you don't pull up,” the ensign shouted at the commander.

Commander Ives pulled the ship up at the last second, enough for them to skid across the surface like a rocket-powered sled. Slowing down the ship, though, was another thing.

“Uh . . . Commander,” the ensign said with a gulp. One of those pimples was growing pretty big in their view screen.

The commander punched the reverse thrusters. Gradually their skid slowed. It looked like he might pull it off. But then Bruzelski felt a slight bump. That was apparently enough to trigger some-thing. The pimple didn't pop but it began to open, layer after layer, like an onion being peeled.

“What in blazes have we bumped into?” asked the commander in a hushed voice.

15

Mole People

Inside the pimple, or bubble, was something that looked like a honeycomb . . . actually more like a mountain of honeycombs. The honeycombs were connected by steps and walkways and bridges that crossed streams or rock gorges or streets.

After testing the atmosphere, the captain and Ensign Bruzelski emerged from a set of steps that folded down from beneath the ship.

A faint part of the captain that was still Beamer remembered that they didn't have a door like this on the tree ship.

The captain didn't see any trees or plants in the bubble city, except for what looked like several varieties of fluorescent moss and some mushrooms big enough to be small trees.

“The city must be a mile across,” said Bruzelski as she surveyed the honeycomb structures, which spread through the giant circle into the distance. “But where are all the people?”

Hardly anything was moving except the wind. Then they heard tiny voices.

The ensign shielded her eyes from the bright circle in the sky behind which the ringed planet hovered, and she peered across the honeycomb landscape. “Captain, over there,” she said, pointing toward the right. “Two figures appear to be running this way.”

Captain MacIntyre took a device out of his pocket, which he put on like a headband. A small screen flipped out from the band and expanded in front of his eyes. Now he could see clearly two people running, waving, and yelling at them.

Beamer thought the device was pretty cool, but it was apparently old news to the captain.

“Well, Bruzelski,” he said calmly, “it looks like we've found your stepbrother. The other one appears to be a civilian woman.”

Beamer was startled. The captain knew about Dashiell! It was funny, though, he didn't seem to know him personally like Beamer did.

“Scilla . . . Beamer!” Alana cried happily when she was close enough to recognize them. Then she twisted around and called back, with her hands circling her mouth. “It's all right! You can come out! They won't hurt you!”

At least that's what she meant to be saying. What the captain heard coming from her mouth was a flood of clicks and other sounds you might mistake as someone gargling in the bathroom.

Cringing and shielding themselves from the outdoor light, creatures began to stir out of their hiding places. With their big yellow eyes, very pale, wrinkled skin, and long, white hair, they gave a whole new meaning to the word ugly. Of course, they probably had a similar impression of the Star-Fighters.

As word spread on back through the city, crowds of them — hundreds and then thousands — soon appeared. Like little two-legged blobs of wrinkles, they moved up steps and walkways toward the edge of their flattened dome to look out in wonder over the landscape.

The captain tapped his communicator. “What do you have, Ives?” he asked. “What's going on here?”

He immediately heard the commander's voice. “Captain, I've been running their electronic transmissions through the universal translator. They seem to be thanking some golden goddess for saving them.”

The captain turned off his communicator as Dashiell and the girl he now vaguely recognized as Ms. Franck approached the ship. Their clothing looked strange — just colorless cloth wrapped around them, mummy-like, from their shoulders to their knees.

Almost out of breath from her long run, Ms. Franck stopped abruptly, giving them a puzzled look. “You are Beamer and Scilla, aren't you? You look like them but older or something.”

The captain shook his head thoughtfully. The name Beamer did sound familiar, though he wasn't sure why. “Not exactly, but I think we can take you to them.”

“What took you so long?” Dashiell asked. “We've been here for weeks!”

“Weeks?” exclaimed Ensign Bruzelski. “But we just left — ” Suddenly she wasn't sure where they had left and when. After all, Star-Fighter patrols could last months at a time. Like the captain, her connection to her earthly counterpart was very faint. Scilla and her memories were like shadows in the ensign's mind.

“These creatures haven't been on the surface of their world for eons!” Ms. Franck said excitedly.

“It took us a while to learn their language,” said Dashiell. “Actually, they wouldn't talk much to me,” he said almost timidly. “Would you believe, they were grossed out by the sight of me?” He gave an embarrassed laugh and went on. “Not by her, though. She was Beauty and I was the Beast.”

“Yes, and I don't understand why,” the girl said sheepishly. “I think he's very handsome.”

“Anyway, what's their story?” the captain asked, taking out his recorder.

“Well, one day very long ago, their world was pelted with rocks from the sky,” Ms Franck explained. “More and more came each day, bombarding their houses and streets.”

“Their moon must have veered into the orbit of Saturn's rings,” the captain said, looking up toward the brightest part of the cloudy sky.

“A moon? This is a moon?” Dashiell asked in amazement. “Wow! Well, anyway, they moved underground to avoid the bombardment. Then they covered their settlement with large, unbreakable metal shells and just stayed there.”

Commander Ives's voice erupted from the captain's communica-tor. “Hey, Captain,” he said. “Inhabitants from this settlement are trying to persuade the inhabitants of the other shells to open up. Talk about a major squabble! The universal translator isn't picking up everything, but it sounds like most of the others are afraid. In fact, I just heard one transmission in which another settlement accused this one of trying to deceive them. Here, let me patch you in.”

“Don't you understand?” the captain heard a deep, rumbling voice ask above the other screeching voices online. “The bombardment stopped centuries ago. The danger is gone!” More voices rose in protest, but the first voice shouted above the others, “Take heed, I'm seeing green hills, rivers, and waterfalls. We've let our fears keep us from enjoying the beauty and bounty of our world long enough.”

The radio argument continued on the rest of the day. From what the captain could gather from Ms. Franck's translations, it looked like it might take another eon before all the cities would trust their world enough to open up. That night, the local “mole people,” as the captain called them, held a big celebration in the center of the city. There was much more to the city than the captain had at first thought. Most of the city — about three times as much as they had seen on the surface — was belowground.

Thanks to the big planet glowing beyond the cloud layer, night here was not that dark. Of course, the thick cloud layer had kept the mole people from knowing about the planet above them, or the stars either, for that matter. In fact, when the Star-Fighters tried to tell them about the beautiful ringed planet, most of the excessively wrinkled population just laughed, believing that the story was a silly fairy tale.

The next morning, tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks and over her rumpled chin as Ms. Franck said good-bye to all the friends she had made among the mole people. The fact that the people believed the girl to be a goddess troubled the captain. Ms. Franck tried to discourage such ideas, but many of the mole people clung to them anyway.

Several minutes later the ship took off and plunged into the moon's cloud layer.

It was raining when the ship came out of the clouds. Beamer flinched at a lightning flash and noticed that they were back in the tree. Alana was next to him, her eyes wide in wonder.

He watched her as she walked about the tree ship and touched the plywood fixtures. She looked at her watch and shook her head in wonder. “I went to this strange place far away and stayed there for weeks,” she said in a voice that seemed almost ready to break into joy, “and yet I just climbed into the tree only a few minutes ago. Is that possible?”

“Alana, how did you get here?” he asked. “We never saw you come over.”

“Oh, I . . . I came through the trees, like you described to me. After you left last time, I explained to Ms. Warrington and Daddy how nice you all had been to me and how you were not evil at all. Daddy was so happy that I had friends to play with. He wants to meet you, though. Isn't it wonderful?”