Astrosaurs Vs Cows In Action

by Steve Cole

While Iggy and Alass dealt with the last C. rex standing, Teggs had galloped over to help Gipsy and Arx. Now he gasped, knocked to his knees as two sets of hard hooves crunched against his backplates, and Bo and McMoo rolled off him onto the floor.

  “A sneaky attack from above, huh?” Teggs growled. “You’ll regret that!”

  McMoo saw a stegosaurus tail hurtling towards him and Little Bo like a spiky club. He rolled over to protect the dazed milk-cow – and the tank of hideous ice cream on his back caught the brunt of the bash. FWOOM! It exploded, coating him and Bo in the disgusting stuff from head to toe, stunning them both.

  “Bo! Professor!” Pat ran over and started to haul them towards the exit.

  But now Teggs had recovered. Sweaty, scratched and battle-weary, he and Iggy blocked the C.I.A. agents’ escape – while a soaked and slippery Arx and Gipsy closed in from behind.

  “One final try,” said Little Bo bravely. She let Teggs and Iggy have a big blast of butter, and followed it up with super-squirts of cold milk from her udder. “Prof, Pat – run for it!”

  As Iggy bent over, wiping his eyes, Pat leapfrogged the iguanodon – but landed badly in a puddle of steaming cream cheese. He slipped and banged his head. “Oww!”

  Iggy sat on him. “Now you’re down, son, just stay there!”

  “Little bruv!” Bo dived forward and skidded through Teggs’s legs on her belly, trying to reach Pat. But Teggs thumped his tail down on her back and stopped her slide, pinning her to the floor. “Hey! Let go!” she mooed crossly.

  Professor McMoo knew there was no chance of escape now. He held up his hooves in what he hoped was a universal sign of surrender. Gipsy and Arx took an arm each in a firm grip.

  “I wish I could make you understand,” said McMoo sadly. “We’re really the good guys of the cattle world!”

  “I’ve heard enough mooing for one day,” said Teggs. “Let’s take them all to the Sauropod – and lock them in the cells!”

  Thousands of miles away, in a dark and secret lair on the fringes of the Carnivore Sector, Toro sat in sinister silence with a massive meat-eating dinosaur and several big-toothed guards. Using long-range spy-scopes, they were secretly listening in on the Sauropod’s communications.

  “It’s good news, Admiral Rosso!” came Teggs’s voice at last, weary but triumphant. “We’ve captured T-5, the dinosaur moo-tants and their masters, and used space magnets to pull their flying saucer on board. Whoever they are, they can’t cause us any more trouble now …”

  The meat-eater laughed. “You are sssso wrong, Captain! You believe you have won – and yet you have no idea of the real danger …”

  “I told you my plan would work perfectly,” said Toro smugly. “We have tested out our creations on the most powerful plant-eaters around. We have studied their strengths and weaknesses. Now we can create new, improved dinosaur moo-tants – ready for phase two of our grand scheme …”

  “Enjoy your victory while you can, plant-eaters …” The meat-eater bared his deadly teeth in a smile. “Ssssoon, the Jurassic Quadrant will belong to carnivores alone … and then old Mother Earth will feel our bite!”

  Chapter Eight

  COM-MOO-NICATION TROUBLE

  “Well, this isn’t exactly an ideal situation, is it?” called Professor McMoo from his cell on board the Sauropod. He was sharing it with a sleeping C. rex.

  Pat and Bo were locked up to his left, and he sighed at them through the bars. “They haven’t even brought us a cup of tea.”

  “Never mind, Prof,” said Bo. “We’ve been in worse scrapes than this.”

  “Have we?” Pat sighed too. “We’re a gazillion miles from home, with no way back; we’re the prisoners of space dinosaurs who don’t speak our language and think we’re evil and we smell like a sewage pipe in the devil’s own dairy.”

  “Right now, the language barrier is our biggest problem …” Suddenly, McMoo sat up so fast his specs almost flew off. “Of course! T-5 can speak the local lingo. Toro kidnapped that torvosaurus we met back in Luckyburger to learn its language, and programmed the results into T-5’s ringblender …”

  Pat nodded with excitement. “If we could only get hold of that, we could use it to tell these astrosaurs who their real enemy is!”

  “But how can we get out?” Bo heaved on the bars helplessly.

  “I still have my trusty screwdriver.” McMoo pulled the simple tool out of the sleeve of his spacesuit and jammed it into the lock. “You know, I was thinking of adding a vibration circuit to this thing, so it produced ultrasonic sound waves …”

  “A sonic screwdriver?” Bo snorted. “Who would ever use one of those?”

  Just then, the cell door clicked open. “Aha! The screwdriver worked the old-fashioned way.” McMoo waggled his eyebrows at his young friends. “Now, I must find T-5 and get that ringblender. I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

  In the astrosaurs’ crew room, Teggs, Arx, Iggy and Gipsy were relaxing after their battle.

  “I’m glad we’ve got those horrible cow things under control,” said Gipsy, sniffing herself cautiously. “I had to take fifteen showers to wash away the stink of that yukky dairy stuff.”

  “I had to have twenty-five,” said Iggy. “You wouldn’t believe where I found lumps of cream-cheese—”

  Arx pulled a face. “Please, don’t tell us!”

  “Something’s puzzling me,” Teggs announced, crunching hungrily on his hundredth coconut. “How come the metal cow could talk our language, but his masters couldn’t?”

  “Maybe T-5’s robot brain contains a language computer?” said Gipsy.

  “He’s probably got all sorts of nasty talents,” Iggy agreed. “Like those lasers he had in his eyes.”

  “That’s another thing,” said Teggs. “Those three cows had loads of weapons. They could’ve really hurt or even killed us – but they chose not to, and surrendered.”

  “Perhaps that’s why they turn regular dinos into cow-monsters,” said Iggy. “They don’t have the bottle for fighting, so they get others to do their dirty work for them.”

  “Perhaps,” Teggs agreed. “But there was something about them. They looked … kind. Clever.”

  “Not too clever now, are they?” said Iggy breezily. “Locked up in our cells.”

  “Alert!” squawked the alarm pterosaur, her voice echoing through the ship. “Cell open! Prisoner loose on level six! Look out, all! SQUAAWWWWK!”

  The astrosaurs jumped to their feet. Gipsy looked at Iggy. “What was that you were saying, Ig?”

  “Say it again on the way down to the cells,” said Teggs, scoffing a few more coconuts to keep his strength up. “It looks like the battle’s not over yet!”

  As the alarm went off, Professor McMoo quickened his step, hunting for the banged-up ter-moo-nator. At last he found T-5 on his own, slumped in the cell on the end.

  The screwdriver made short work of the lock. McMoo opened the door and hurried inside, knowing he could be recaptured at any moment. He grabbed the ringblender and pulled …

  But it was stuck tight in the ter-moo-nator’s robotic snout.

  McMoo studied it more closely.

  T-5 had clearly been whacked in the face – the ringblender would not come free. Frantically, McMoo set to work with the screwdriver once again.

  Then a roar behind him made him realize that his time had run out …

  He turned to find the stegosaurus and his friends standing outside the cell – and they did not look happy!

  “What are you doing, cow?” Teggs demanded, standing in the doorway. “Wasn’t your own cell comfy enough?”

  “Looks like he was trying to wake up his robot servant,” said Gipsy.

  Iggy nodded. “Well, at least it saves us the effort of locking him up again …”

  Finally, with a snort of effort, McMoo pulled the robot’s metal nose clean off!

  “Ouch!” Arx frowned. “I’m not sure you wanted to do that.”

  “Oh yes, I bottom did!” said the professor sud
denly, wearing the robo-conk over his own with the ring dangling down. “This botty device was translating the ter-moo-nator’s buns language into bum-bum dino-speak, and it’ll do the same for me!”

  The astrosaurs turned to each other in surprise.

  “He’s talking our language!” said Teggs. “What’s with all that bottom stuff, though?”

  “My friends and I aren’t bad wobbly-cheeks!” McMoo went on. “I’m Professor Angus McMoo, a booty agent for the time-travelling cattle investigation squad, the butt Cows In Action.”

  Gipsy’s head-crest blushed purple. “Why do you keep talking about bottoms?”

  “I don’t mean to!” McMoo banged the ring with his hoof. “This buns-of-steel thing must have got damaged in the fight. The real bad guy who programmed it learned your bum-bum language from a torvosaurus.”

  “Ah, that explains it,” said Iggy, nodding knowingly. “Those torvosaurus types are always going on about bums.”

  “Their motto is: The bigger your rear, the more there is to fear,” Teggs agreed. “But tell me, ‘Professor’ – why should we believe you? You would say that this is someone else’s fault, to save your own hide.”

  “Captain Teggs is right,” said Arx. “We followed the light-atom trail of your flying saucer to Jaggonax – and, sure enough, there it was.”

  “The botty saucer you followed belongs to shake-your-tush Toro, the Buffalo-in-Chief of the Fed-up Bull Institute,” McMoo insisted. “We followed his bummy-bummy trail to Jaggonax too – Toro must’ve boosted his saucer’s backside photon drive on purpose to lure us all there – so you would find us bottom and think we big-buns were to blame for rump wobble-bot attacking you.”

  Teggs turned uncertainly to Arx. “Is that possible?”

  “With fewer bottoms, it’s distinctly possible,” Arx confirmed.

  “I’m in charge of communications,” said Gipsy. “I’m sure I can fix this fault in the translator.” She walked up to McMoo, plucked off the false nose and studied the ringblender. “Give me your astro-tweezers, Ig …”

  Iggy passed her the tool. Gipsy opened up part of the scorched silver ring and quickly got to work. “There!” She handed it back to McMoo. “That should fix it.”

  “Astounding!” McMoo studied her handiwork. “And to think dinosaurs have a reputation for being stupid on planet Earth …”

  “Excuse me?” said Teggs sternly.

  “Nobody believes you had the technology needed to leave the planet,” McMoo explained. “Well, except for this one crazy author, but no one ever listens to him …” He beamed. “Isn’t it marvellous to have met like this? Think of what we can learn from each other. The knowledge we can share! The wisdom! The tea bags!”

  “It is exciting,” Arx agreed, his horns waggling.

  “Before we share anything with you cows,” said Iggy, “how do we know we can really trust you?”

  “Hmm. Good question. Luckily, I have a good answer.” McMoo pulled out his screwdriver and fiddled with the ringblender’s exposed insides. “If I can just boost this ringblender’s range so it will translate any cattle in the area …”

  T-5 stirred with an electronic warble.

  “Quickly,” McMoo hissed, shoving T-5’s snout back into its proper place, but keeping the nose-ring himself. “Lock me in and get out of sight – but stay where you can hear!”

  Teggs hesitated. “What are you up to?”

  “You’ll soon see.” McMoo looked at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Captain Teggs?”

  “All right, Professor,” Teggs said at last. The astrosaurs left the cell, shut the door and retreated round the corner as T-5 sat up.

  “You beef-brained nit!” McMoo scowled at the ter-moo-nator. “You’ve got us all locked up on the astrosaurs’ ship.”

  “Excellent,” said T-5, not realizing his nose-ring was missing. “All goes according to Toro’s plans. We take the blame, while he works on in safety.”

  “Yep, you’ve tricked the astrosaurs into thinking we Cows In Action are to blame,” McMoo went on. “The only good news is that the astrosaurs will lock you up as well as us.”

  “Not for long,” T-5 grated. “Once the Vegetarian Sector has been invaded by new moo-tants, Toro will set me free to lead a killer-carnivore attack on the people of Earth – while you will be left here to rot …”

  “An attack on outer space and the Earth?” McMoo felt sick. “The F.B.I. are really thinking big this time …”

  Just then, Teggs burst back into the cell. “All right, we’ve heard enough. Out you come, Professor.”

  McMoo beamed. “Thought you’d never ask, Captain!”

  “Noooooo!” The ter-moo-nator scowled helplessly at the professor. “You have tricked me!”

  “Yep – and it’s as plain as the nose on your face.” McMoo tugged off T-5’s hooter. Then he and Teggs jumped out of the cell and locked the door.

  “I’m sorry we attacked you and your friends, McMoo,” said Iggy.

  “It’s clear that this Toro is the real enemy,” Gipsy added.

  “Right,” said Arx. “And from this moment, we’ll all work together to stop him.”

  “Astrosaurs teaming up with Cows In Action? What a fabulous idea!” McMoo threw an arm around Teggs’s neck. “Now, let’s get on with finding the real bad guys. There’s a double invasion on the cards – and we’re running out of time to stop it!”

  Chapter Nine

  FIGHTING BACK

  Pat and Bo were both jubilant and moobilant when the professor came along with Teggs to set them free. Iggy led all three C.I.A. agents to the bathroom, where they washed down their stinky spacesuits and cleaned up in the Sauropod’s ENORMOUS showers.

  Gipsy and Iggy, meanwhile, copied T-5’s translator-ring and built two more for Pat and Bo to wear. Once they were in place, everyone could understand each other. To seal their new alliance, Teggs and his crew took the C.I.A. agents to the ship’s canteen to feast on plants and grasses, washed down with a trough of swamp tea.

  “It’s out of this world,” McMoo declared, swigging back the steaming drink. “Tea brewed from a sludgy alien swamp! Imagine that! Taste that!”

  Bo and Pat did so. They were almost sick on the spot.

  “I think I’ll stick to water,” Pat managed politely.

  “I’ll stick to milk!” Bo rinsed her mouth out with a few squirts from her udder, gargled and gulped. “Ahh, that’s the stuff! And there’s plenty for all of you!” She squirted some more milk into four cups. “Who’s first?”

  Teggs, Arx and Gipsy took nervous sips – but Iggy knocked back his glass in one go. “Ahhh! Cool and creamy.”

  Bo winked. “Just like me!”

  The new friends chatted about everything from the sunset on Corytho to the price of tea bags in twenty-first-century supermarkets … from the last days of the dinosaurs on Earth to the time-travelling escapades of Clever Cows … from Professor McMoo’s many inventions to Teggs’s many ten-course breakfasts.

  But once the food and drink was finished, it was time to get down to business in the Sauropod’s meeting room.

  “Things to do,” Teggs announced. “We need to track down Toro in the Carnivore Sector … discover his invasion plans—”

  “And then stop him,” Bo chipped in. “Ideally by punching his lights out.”

  Iggy smiled. “I like your style, Little Bo!”

  Bo batted her eyelashes. “I quite like your cap, Jiggy. But it would be better if you cut it up, painted it pink and stuck a feather in the top.”

  “Jiggy?” Gipsy winked at him. “Now that really is style!”

  “Cap makeovers aside, it’s still quite a to-do list, isn’t it?” said Arx.

  “What worries me is, how did Toro get hold of so many T. rexes to turn into C. rexes?” McMoo frowned, deep in thought. “And if he’s planning invasions both here and back on Earth, he must have an awful lot more …”

  “You think someone is supplying Toro with deadly dinos to turn into moo-tants?” s
aid Teggs.

  “An ally in the Carnivore Sector,” breathed Arx.

  Pat gulped. “Toro framed the three of us to keep the astrosaurs and the C.I.A. off his back, to buy himself more time …”

  “Time to build an invasion force of new dino moo-tants!” said Bo.

  “On Planet Sixty, T-5 seemed to be testing that C. rex,” Teggs muttered. “Testing it for weaknesses, perhaps.”

  “Weaknesses that Toro can remove from a second batch?” Gipsy shuddered. “I didn’t notice many myself.”

  “We must take a closer look,” Arx declared. “We must study those moo-tants and see how they were made.”

  “Then perhaps you and the prof can work out how to deal with them,” Iggy added.

  “Definitely!” boomed McMoo. “I suspect that Arx is very nearly as clever as I am.

  “Thank you, Professor,” said Arx drily. “Perhaps Pat could be our assistant? He seems to have a good head on his shoulders.”

  Pat nodded super-quickly, as if to prove it.

  “Good plan,” said Teggs. “Meantime, how do we find Toro? This time, he’s covered his tracks. There’s a path leading from Jaggonax into the Carnivore Sector … but from there, it’s too faint to follow.”

  “The moo-tants are made from T. rexes,” Iggy pointed out. “Maybe Toro’s hiding out near Teerex Major?”

  “Is that a planet? A whole planet of T. rexes?” McMoo marvelled. “This Jurassic Quadrant of yours sounds incredible!”

  “Can we fly there and ask if anyone’s seen Toro?” asked Pat.

  “Only if you want your answer in missiles and laser beams,” said Gipsy. “Plant-eater dinos aren’t allowed in carnivore space. Evil alien bulls might get in – but velociraptor death ships would zap us as soon as we enter.”

  “What about that ter-moo-nator thing?” said Arx. “T-5 serves Toro – he might know where he is.”

  “You’ll never make a ter-moo-nator talk,” said McMoo. “He’ll lock down his computer brain.”

  “I’m pretty good with robots,” said Iggy, standing up. “I’ll give it a go.”

  “Those techno beef-heads can get pretty nasty.” Bo linked arms with the iguanodon. “I’ll go with you, Jiggy – and be your Bodyguard!”