“I’m serious,” said Maktel. “I must convince you that this is a dangerous situation.”
I climbed off the mattress and went to get the download box.
Maktel used the box to download his memory of listening to Ellico vec Bur, then passed the box to me. I inserted my sphen-gnut-ksher and played back the memory. It was hard to focus on what was actually happening and shut out all the underlying thoughts that were simply echoes of Maktel’s own fear and suspicion. One that I couldn’t shut out, and that startled me, was his anger at Tim, and his unhappiness at what he thought was my betrayal of his friendship.
Concentrate! I told myself.
I did, and when I heard Ellico vec Bur speak and saw the look on their face as they swept past Maktel, I felt sick. This was serious after all.
“I apologize,” I said. “This is very disturbing.”
Maktel looked triumphant. Then he crouched beside me and whispered, “I think it’s time we opened the Motherly One’s message.”
“That wouldn’t be right!” I gasped.
“The embassy may be facing great danger,” he said. “Danger that we need to be aware of. Your Fatherly One will not be back until the party tomorrow. That might be too late!”
It didn’t take much more for him to convince me, which probably means I really wanted to open the message too. As soon as I agreed, Maktel went to his room to fetch the message.
While he was doing that, I went to wake Tim, who was sleeping in one of the guest rooms. Getting Tim had been a mistake as far as Maktel was concerned, as I could tell by the look on his face when he came back into my room. Though he did not say a word, his expression was clear: Why did you bring him into this?
My smorgle hurt. I wanted my friends to be friends. I most certainly did not want to have to act as a wall to keep them apart as if they were a pair of quoink-zoopl.
“Here it is,” he said, holding up a package of feebo beezbuds.
My kirgiltum suddenly got very interested. I hadn’t had any feebo beezbuds since leaving Hevi-Hevi.
“Looks like a package of candy,” said Tim, yawning and scratching his head.
“The message is inside,” said Maktel scornfully.
Using his teeth, he cut a small opening in the corner of the package. Then he carefully pulled the sides apart.
He read the words on the inside of the wrapper, then blinked in astonishment and passed it to me.
CHAPTER 18 [TIM]
THE MESSAGE
I glanced over Pleskit’s shoulder while he was looking at the message. I couldn’t read it, of course, since it was in some alien language that was as hard to understand as my handwriting.
Pleskit’s voice trembled as he translated it for me:
Dearest Meenom,
Something big is happening. I am not sure what it is, but I can tell you three things:
1. Earth is more important—and more valuable—than you realize.
2. You have more enemies than you realize.
3. Whatever this scheme is, Mikta-makta-mookta is mixed up in it.
Please be cautious.
Fondly,
Geebrit Ilkin
“I am disturbed by that ‘fondly’ part,” said Maktel. “You do not think our parental units are interested in each other, do you?”
“Forget that!” said Pleskit sharply. “Mikta-makta-mookta is on the loose again. She could be up to anything!”
“Well, I told you this was serious,” said Maktel, sounding a little as if he were talking to a three-year-old.
“What about the part that says ‘Earth is more important than you realize’?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager. “What do you suppose it could mean?”
“I do not know,” said Maktel. “It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it?”
“Don’t start,” warned Pleskit in a low voice, which I appreciated. He stared at the message for a while longer. “This is disturbing—terrifying, even. But there is not much sense to be made of it. We will have to pass it on to the Fatherly One.”
“But then he’ll know we opened it!” wailed Maktel.
“You should have thought of that before you decided that was what we needed to do,” said Pleskit sharply.
“Well, we won’t need to worry about it until your Fatherly One gets back,” I pointed out.
“Unless we should call to tell him.”
“No,” said Maktel firmly. “The Motherly One was very clear on that matter. No electronic message is secure. Any transmission we make can be captured and decoded. We have to give this to him in person. But what does it mean? And what does it have to do with Ellico vec Bur?”
“It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with them,” said Pleskit. “The message certainly doesn’t mention them.”
“I suppose that could be true,” said Maktel reluctantly. “But it’s hard to believe. Why else would they be here?”
But for that we had no answer. And with Meenom out of the embassy, we couldn’t think of anything we should do, which left all three of us jittery and sleepless. We stayed in Pleskit’s room, talking nervously, wondering what was going on, wishing desperately that Meenom would return to the embassy.
The amazing thing was, I almost started to like Maktel while we were doing this.
I stumbled through school the next day, and bombed a major science test because I was less than alert, and the part of my brain that was working was all tied up in thoughts about the Trader(s), about the message, about the party, about Pleskit and Maktel and Linnsy and Jordan. Maybe if we had had a little more rest, the three of us would have been thinking a little more clearly the next night, when it was time for the party.
Which could have made all the difference in the world—and for the world, I suppose, given the way things worked out.
Not just our world. The entire galaxy.
But that came later, of course.
CHAPTER 19 [LINNSY]
PARTY!
On Friday our class nearly drove Ms. Weintraub out of her mind, since all anyone could think about was the party at the embassy.
“We’re just normal kids,” said Chris Mellblom when we were out on the playground. “And we’re going to a party at the alien embassy! My mother is so jealous, she wants to disguise herself as a kid and pretend she’s my date.”
“Eeeuw,” said Larrabe Hicks. “That’s sick!”
“I told her the same thing,” said Chris.
By early afternoon Ms. Weintraub gave up trying to teach us anything and settled for just trying to keep us quiet.
* * *
Misty and I went to the embassy early, since we were official helpers.
Pleskit met us as we came in. Tim and Maktel were standing beside him, Tim wearing that goofy oog-slama pouch. Pleskit looked tired and hassled. “Here,” he said, handing each of us a purple card with a cord for putting around our necks. “These are your security passes. We’re going to have a tour of the embassy later, but other than that, most of the rooms will be closed off. This will get you past security if you need to go to the kitchen to tell Shhh-foop we need more food or something.”
He sounded as bad as he looked. “Is something wrong, Pleskit?”
His sphen-gnut-ksher drooped. “The Fatherly One called a couple of hours ago and said he would not be able to make it back in time for the party.”
I felt really bad for him. I knew he had been counting on his Fatherly One being there.
I decided I would do all I could to try to make the party a success for him.
Ms. Buttsman came bustling in and asked Misty and me to act as official greeters. This turned out to be a pretty good job, since it was fun to watch people as they came in, boggled by the trip up the tube, eyes popping when they saw the embassy for the first time, and popping even more when they met the staff. Several of them screamed the first time they saw Shhh-foop, and Larrabe nearly fainted when Beezle Whompis crackled into sight beside him without warning.
To my relief (I was feeling very
responsible, since I was a helper) the class was (mostly) on its best behavior.
Not all of them, of course. Jordan and Brad spent most of their time standing at the food table, commenting on how weird the stuff was without actually trying any of it. When Shhh-foop slid in with another tray of food, their eyes bulged. Brad actually yelped and ducked behind Jordan.
“Silly Earthlings,” sang Shhh-foop, sounding not in the least offended. “Have some urkle-pidspoo. It will make you smarter.”
Jordan nodded. Brad stayed behind his back until Shhh-foop started back to the kitchen. Then he stepped out beside Jordan and the two of them started laughing.
The two special security guards standing behind the table looked at them in disgust, and I realized that if I was going to make anything out of Jordan, the first thing I had to do was get him surgically detached from Brad.
Actually, the first thing I had to do tonight was get up the nerve to talk to him, which seemed stupid, since I talk to him all the time in school.
I noticed Rafaella Martinez sitting in front of one of the light pots, dreamily running her hand through the shifting images that hovered above it. When I went over to talk to her, she said, “Do you think Pleskit would sell me one of these? I’d love to have something like this in my bedroom!”
“I don’t have the slightest idea. But I know he’s big into trading. Maybe you can talk him into something. Look, there’s Maktel. Let’s go ask him.”
I took her over to Maktel and explained her question. When I said, “Be back in a minute” and walked away, they both looked slightly alarmed. But I wanted to see what Jordan was up to.
Before I made it back to the snack table, I noticed that Larrabe was following Ms. Buttsman wherever she went. He seemed to think she was quite wonderful, which just shows how totally weird an Earthling can be.
I called Tim and Pleskit over. “Check out Larrabe,” I said.
They watched for a few minutes, their eyes getting wider and wider. “I think he’s got a crush on her,” said Tim at last, which caused Pleskit and me to burst into giggles.
We were still standing together when McNally came in. Ms. Weintraub was with him, her arm linked with his. She had on a fancy dress, and more makeup than she ever wears in school. I was amazed at how pretty she was.
I grabbed Tim’s shoulder. “Look!” I whispered. “I think they’re on a date!”
“Holy mackerel!” he exclaimed. “Well, that explains how McNally solved the problem of inviting Ms. Weintraub, but… well, geez.’ ”
I knew what he meant.
There’s nothing like your teacher arriving with an unexpected date to quiet down a party. The silence that fell over the room was deadly.
“Pleskit,” I whispered urgently. “I think it’s time to start the music!”
He hurried to the wall and farted a command. (I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that way of communicating, though Tim thinks it’s hilarious.)
Immediately alien music began to play. At first everyone stayed quiet—stunned, I guess, by the weird beauty of the sounds. Then, slowly, the chatter began again—mostly people talking about the music—and the party came back to life.
“Good call, Linnsy,” said Pleskit, who had come back to stand beside me.
“Get a load of Misty,” said Tim.
I sighed. She was bustling around, doing her best “queen of the party” imitation, as if she were at the embassy all the time and the whole thing had actually been her idea.
“Don’t you just want to slap her?” I said to Pleskit.
He looked startled. “We prefer not to use violence as a means for solving minor social problems,” he said. “However, I agree that her presumption is annoying. Unfortunately, the Fatherly One wants me to be particularly nice to her, so I must be cautious about how much anger I display. Have you noticed Michael?”
“No, what about him?”
“He looks like he’s in heaven,” said Tim. “All this high-tech stuff is a total dream for him. Look—there he goes. I think he talked Beezle Whompis into giving him a tour or something.”
“Perhaps he is a spy,” said Maktel, who had managed to pry himself away from Rafaella.
“And perhaps you’re a paranoid maniac,” I said. It was a little rude. But then so was calling Michael a spy.
I decided I should go talk to someone else—namely Jordan, if I could get up the nerve. I drifted toward the snack table, where he and Brad were still hanging out. Then I stopped and turned away.
That made me angry with myself, so I turned back and headed toward them again.
By the time I had made three false starts, I was totally furious with myself. “If you want to be able to look yourself in the face tomorrow, stop being such a wuss!” I told myself firmly.
Taking a deep breath, I strolled over to the table. I started examining the snacks, as if I were actually interested in trying one—which, given the fact that my stomach was busy tying itself into a knot, was hardly the case.
“Hey, Linnsy,” said Jordan.
I looked up. “Oh, hi, Jordan!” I said, trying to sound surprised at seeing him. “How you doing?”
He shrugged. “Okay. This place is pretty cool, isn’t it?”
I smiled. “Yeah.”
He smiled back, which made my knees a little weak. Then he said, “But did you ever see such weird food? Looks like an explosion at the barf factory!”
That got Brad laughing so hard that he spewed punch through his nose, which was at least as disgusting as anything Shhh-foop had put on the table.
Jordan hooted with glee, and I decided that maybe he wasn’t all that cute after all, at least not as long as he and Brad were so closely attached they might as well have been a symbiotic duad like Ellico vec Bur.
No sooner had this thought crossed my mind than the Trader(s) strolled in. They were dressed in an elegant gold-and-scarlet outfit. A pair of metal spikes rising from their shoulders held up their cape in a way that made me think of bat wings.
The Trader(s)’ arrival created a nervous buzz in the room, and I realized we should have warned the kids about Ellico vec Bur. I shouldn’t have worried. They sat down and started to do some magic—little tricks with pieces of cloth and so on—and pretty soon several kids had gathered around them. Chris Mellblom was one of them of course, since he loves this kind of thing. He watched intently, then pleaded to be taught at least one of the tricks.
Ellico vec Bur smiled. “A master of manipulation does not share his secrets,” said the Ellico portion softly.
“Not with outsiders,” replied Chris conspiratorially as he took out a handkerchief. He rolled it up, stuffed it into his hand, and then with a flourish made it disappear—something we’d all seen him do a dozen times in school.
“I see I underestimated you,” said Bur as Ellico raised an eyebrow. “All right, come with us.”
Chris followed them out of the room.
Maktel was standing near me when they left. “I do not like this,” he said nervously.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I do not trust Ellico vec Bur. Did you see how nice they were acting?”
I blinked in surprise. “You don’t think Chris is in danger, do you?”
“I don’t know,” said Maktel grimly.
It was a weird situation. If I’d had any real reason to believe Chris was in danger, I would have rushed out to do something immediately. But this was just a suspicion from someone Pleskit had told me was notoriously suspicious of everything. How seriously should I take it?
I turned to ask Maktel another question, but he was gone.
CHAPTER 20 [PLESKIT]
FALSE ALARM
I was explaining the life cycle of the Veeblax to Rafaella when I noticed Maktel signaling to me. I was annoyed, because I had finally started to relax and have a good time. I tried to ignore him, but his signals grew more frantic.
“Excuse me,” I said to Rafaella. “I’d better go see what Maktel wants.”
“Catch you in a minute,” she said. “Thanks for showing me the Veeblax—and for explaining how to eat those snacks. I don’t like the purple ones that keep rolling around, but the rest of them are pretty good.”
I hurried to Maktel, who was standing by the door. “What is it?”
“Ellico vec Bur are up to something. They just went off with Chris Mellblom.”
I bent my sphen-gnut-ksher in a sign of skepticism. “Maktel, I agree that there is something very strange going on with the Trader(s). But you can’t seriously think they would hurt one of my classmates.”
“After what I heard last night, I don’t know what to think, Pleskit. But they make me nervous. I believe we should follow them to make sure Chris is safe.”
I knew Maktel when he was in one of these moods. It would be easier—and faster—to go along with him than to talk him out of it. “All right,” I said. “Lead the way.”
As I followed my paranoid pal out of the party room, I noticed he was making the fruity smell of satisfaction, which only added to my annoyance.
There was no sign of Ellico vec Bur and Chris, so we started walking to the right, which was the direction of the staff room. When we reached one of the transport tubes, we stopped to debate whether we should go up to Ellico vec Bur’s quarters or continue toward the staff room. While we were discussing this, Tim caught up with us.
“What are you two up to?” he asked, panting for breath. He had one hand cupped over the oog-slama pouch, to keep it from bouncing while he ran, I supposed.
“We’re checking on Ellico vec Bur,” said Maktel. “I believe they are up to something bad.”
“Man, you’re brave,” said Tim. “That guy… uh, those guys… scare me.”
“You do not have to come,” said Maktel sharply. “In fact, it would probably be better if you did not.”
Tim glanced at me, which made me want to vanish. I did not want to be caught in yet another struggle between these two. “I’ll be fine,” he said firmly.
Too Many Aliens Page 7
