Selby Spacedog (13 page)

SELBY, SPACEDOG

Selby sped alone through the silent blackness of space with his face pressed against the window of the tiny spacecraft. He could hear the crackle of conversation over the radio from Mission Control. As he stared at the billion stars around him, the same words went around and around in his head.

‘Help! I want to go back! Save me! Help! I want to go back! Save me!’

An asteroid drifted by, narrowly missing the spacecraft. Selby’s heart pounded and sweat streamed down his nose. He thought of screaming out in plain English to Mission Control. He thought of yelling, ‘There’s been a
big mistake! I’m not an ordinary barking dog. I’m Selby, the only talking dog in Australia and, perhaps, the universe! I’m too valuable to be sent on a dangerous mission!’

But he didn’t scream … or talk. It was no use. He knew they couldn’t turn his spacecraft around now. He would have to complete his mission and that was that.

‘How did I get myself into this mess?’ he wondered. ‘How? How? How?’

Suddenly wavy lines filled the air as Selby remembered how his space adventure had begun …

Only three days before, Selby had been lying on the floor at home in Bogusville watching the TV news with the Trifles. The big story was that an astronaut had landed on Mars. Then the whole world listened in horror as Spud Kirkle’s voice was beamed back to earth and the drama began.

‘I’m afraid I’ve got an ignition non-compliance situation on board,’ Spud said calmly. ‘Do you copy me, Bip?’

‘These astronauts have such a funny way of speaking,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘I wonder what he’s saying? It doesn’t sound good.’

‘I think an “ignition non-compliance situation” means his engine won’t start,’ Dr Trifle answered. ‘He can’t blast off. He must be stuck on Mars.’

‘Affirmative, Spud. We copy,’ the voice at Mission Control answered. ‘Have you manually facilitated the Digital Auto-Sequencing Commencer?’

‘I wonder what “manually facilitating the Digital Auto-Sequencing Commencer” means,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘I think they want to know if he’s pushed the starter button to start his engine,’ Dr Trifle said.

‘Affirmative,’ Spud crackled back. ‘Digital Auto-Sequencing Commencer is in a utilityfree attitude at this point in time.’

‘Apparently the starter button’s broken,’ Dr Trifle explained.

‘Did you initiate a bi-situational exchange configuration with the Digital Auto-Sequencing Commencer on a one-to-one basis, Spud?’

‘Run that one past me again, Bip,’ the astronaut said.

‘Did you take out the broken starter button and put in a new one, Spud?’

‘Sure — I mean, affirmative — I tried,’ Spud answered. ‘I looked for a new starter button but somebody forgot to put one in the spare parts box. Now what?’

‘You’ll just have to remain in a wheels-down attitude at ground zero Mars-side while we proceed with Survival Contingency Plan Eight dash Seven Section Two B or Nought Two B.’

‘Sorry? What plan is that?’

‘Affecting a Trans-Planetary Vehicular Refit or Retrieval.’

‘Come again, Bip?’

‘Exactly. Hang loose, Spud. We’re coming to rescue you.’

‘Do you think you can rescue me?’ Spud asked.

‘Beats me. We’ll see what we can do.’

Spud was silent for a moment.

‘I want to thank you, Bip,’ he said finally, ‘and all the rest of you gals and guys down there at Mission Control: Chip, Spike, Spam, Pam, Brad, Bud, Buff, Skeeter and Sparky. Just remember that I’m running out of air up here so if you’re going to rescue me, please make it snappy.’

‘Sure thing, Spud — I mean, we copy,’ Bip said. ‘We’ll do our best and if we fail at least you’ll know that we gave it our best shot. Well, you might not know it but everyone else will. Sit tight, old buddy.’

All evening long TV programs were interrupted to bring the latest plans for the space rescue.

Experts from around the world gave their best scientific opinions — but nobody really knew what to do.

‘Why don’t they just send him up a new starter button?’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘Good point,’ said Dr Trifle.

‘But there’s a problem,’ Mrs Trifle went on. ‘The
Spirit of Space
— the one that Spud Kirkle is in — is probably the only spacecraft that can get to Mars and it’ll take too long to make a new one.’

‘Good point again,’ Dr Trifle said.

‘But there is another possibility,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘There is?’

‘Yes, there’s the
Bodgie Rocket.
‘

‘The
Bodgie Rocket!’
Dr Trifle exclaimed. ‘The rocket that the students of Bogusville
High built for a science project a couple of years ago? The one that’s hanging from the ceiling at the high school?’

‘Exactly! And it wasn’t so bodgie after all, remember?’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘It won first prize at the International Science Projects Convention. The judges reckoned that it was so good that all you’d have to do is to bung some fuel in it and Bob’s your uncle.’

‘But it’s too small to fit a person,’ Dr Trifle said, trying to remember if he had an uncle named Bob. ‘And by the time it got to Mars, Spud would be too weak from lack of air to climb out of the
Spirit of Space
and get the button.’

‘Then someone will have to build a low g-force, self-contained, voice-responding delivery module,’ Mrs Trifle said.

‘A what?’ Dr Trifle asked. ‘You’re beginning to sound just like those space people. Would you mind saying that again in proper people-talk?’

‘A robot-like thing that can carry a starter button and that comes when you call it. You’re an inventor, why don’t you invent one?’

‘Why, so I am and, yes, I’ll try,’ Dr Trifle said, dashing for his workroom.

All evening Dr Trifle mumbled to himself and scribbled little squiggles on pieces of paper. Selby watched as the doctor’s brain leapt from thought to thought and idea to idea as he scribbled and scribbled.

‘He’s going to do it!’ Selby thought. ‘He’s got to do it! He’s just
got
to invent an invention to save Spud!’

In the early morning the doctor finally collapsed on the lounge and fell sound asleep.

‘He must have solved the problem,’ Selby thought as he crept up on the lounge.

Selby looked down at Dr Trifle’s notes and saw one word at the end of them: ‘IMPOSSIBLE!’

‘Oh, no!’ Selby thought. ‘He’s given up! Let me see now …’

Selby gathered up all of the doctor’s papers and studied the squiggles and numbers.

‘Hmmm,’ he hmmmed. ‘I may have to solve this one on my own. What we need is “a low g-force, self-contained, voice-responding delivery module”. Let’s see now, “low g-force” means light-weight. “Voice-responding” means it does what you tell it to do. Hang on a tick!
What they need is a dog! Dogs don’t weigh much and they come when you call them. He doesn’t have to fly the spacecraft. That’s all done from Mission Control. They could send him to Mars, land him next to the
Spirit of Space
and blow the hatch. He’d be wearing a space helmet so he’d be okay. He’d have an air cylinder on his back and a starter button. All Spud would have to do is call him. Any dog in the world could handle that. It’s
so
simple!’

Selby scribbled out the IM part of IMPOSSIBLE on Dr Trifle’s last page. Then, using the doctor’s handwriting, he wrote: ‘Send a dog to Mars in the
Bodgie Rocket.
‘

Just as he finished writing, the doctor stirred and then opened his eyes. He stared down at the page and then blinked three times before jumping to his feet.

‘A dog! That’s it! I’m a genius!’ he cried, as he dialled the phone. ‘Hello, Mission Control? This is Dr Trifle in Bogusville, Australia. I have the answer to your rescue problem. We’ve got the perfect little spacecraft right here in town and the perfect little astronaut to fly in it.’

Selby could feel pride filling his body. He had to struggle not to laugh out loud and dance for joy.

‘I’ve out-thought the greatest thinkers in the world!’ he thought. ‘The rescue mission is about to begin!’

He was just fighting back a grin when the doctor spoke again.

‘The astronaut?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘He’s standing right beside me.’

Selby looked around quickly to see if there was anyone else in the room. Suddenly panic gripped his head like a vice and all his excitement drained out of him.

‘Surely he doesn’t mean me,’ he thought. ‘The Trifles wouldn’t send their own loving pet to Mars … would they? Would they?’

Once again wavy lines filled the air and, once again, Selby was speeding through space in the
Bodgie Rocket
— now called
Bogusville One.

‘It’s so cramped in here! It’s driving me crazy!’ he thought.

Over the radio he could hear the voices of the people back on Earth who were at the controls.

‘All my systems are A-Okay, Sparky,’
a voice said.
‘How about yours??

‘
A-Okay here, Pam
,’ Sparky said. ‘
Should be an easy landing on Mars with such a light payload

‘Good grief,’ thought Selby. ‘I used to be a dog and now I’m only a payload! Oh, woe.’

Soon he was approaching Mars and he could hear the voices at Mission Control making final preparations for his landing. The rockets came on and the
Bogusville One
was going down and down to the surface of the planet. Then all was silent and Selby pulled his paws away from his eyes. The dust outside cleared and there was the
Spirit of Space
only metres away.

‘The dog is down, Spike,’
a voice said.
‘Blow the hatch’

Suddenly the hatch on
Bogusville One
blew off and Selby’s seatbelt automatically let go.

‘Spud! The dog’s there’
a voice crackled.
‘Open your hatch and call him. Spud? Wake up, buddy, we don’t have much time.

Selby poked his head out and looked around at the rocky landscape. For a moment all his fear left him.

‘This is kind of pretty,’ he thought. ‘It reminds me of Kookaburra Flats during the last drought.’

‘Spud! This is Bip here. Do you read me? Open your hatch and call the dog. He’s got an air cylinder on his back and he’s got the starter button attached to his collar. Come on, Spud!’

Selby struggled through the hatch and down the ladder to the ground.

‘One little step for a dog,’ he thought as his paw touched the ground: ‘One big step for canine-kind.’

Selby walked a few steps and then hopped, skipped and then jumped. The air cylinder on his back, which had been heavy on earth, was as light as a pillow. He jumped again, higher than before, and then again.

‘This is great!’ he thought. ‘I can jump as high as
Bogusville
One. Whooooopppppeeeeee!’

‘Spud, wake up! Time’s a-wasting/

Selby bounded around as he listened on his headset to the chatter of Mission Control. Finally he went over to the
Spirit of Space
and peered in through the little round window. Inside Spud sat motionless in his spacesuit, his eyes closed. Selby knocked on the hatch.

‘I
can hear a knocking noise, Bip’
a voice said. ‘I
think Spud must be doing something.
‘

‘That’s me knocking, you twit,’ Selby thought as he pounded even harder. ‘Come on, Spud. Open up!’

Selby knocked some more but there was still no response.

‘Oh, no,’ he thought. ‘What if Spud isn’t just sleeping? What if he’s completely unconscious? What if he’s d-d-d-d-dead?!’

Selby grabbed a rock and began pounding on the side of the
Spirit of Space.
Suddenly Spud moved.

‘Good, he’s alive,’ Selby thought as he bent down to pick up a bigger rock. ‘This should get his attention.’

Just then, the hatch opened a crack and when it did Selby grabbed it in both paws and flung it all the way open. Spud stared sleepily at Selby for a second and then let out a long scream.

‘Help! It’s a Martian!’ he cried. ‘I’m being attacked!’

Spud was about to slam the hatch when Selby leapt into the man’s lap.

‘I’m being boarded by aliens!’ Spud cried and then he fainted dead away.

‘What’s this about aliens? Spud, talk to us.’

‘He must be delirious, Bip’
someone else said.
‘He’s been out of air for too long’