Attack of the Meteor Monsters

by Chris Priestley

  ‘Good,’ said the booming voice as Mildew and Sponge got to their feet. ‘Now we have absorbed your Earthly language. This will aid communication.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the other. ‘Although I think we should just vaporise the whole planet and be done with it.’

  ‘Oh, you always want to vaporise everything,’ said the first.

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘You do and you know you do.’

  The other didn’t reply straight away.

  ‘It is a strange tongue …’ it said presently. ‘And also, in other news, I feel a little odd.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said the first. ‘I do not feel quite myself either.’

  They seemed to have forgotten the boys entirely, but then they suddenly released them from the grip of the beam and the boys fell into a gibbering mass, immediately turning to run away.

  ‘Stay where you are!’ boomed one of the aliens. ‘No one runs from the Neenor!’

  ‘Everyone runs from the Neenor,’ said the other.

  ‘Oh,’ said the first with a horrible chuckle. ‘Come to think of it, I suppose you’re right. Why is that?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said the other. ‘I think we look rather splendid, old comet.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said the first. ‘Stay where you are!’

  The trembling boys stopped in their tracks and slowly turned round to see the mechanical spiders clanking and wheezing as their enormous black legs brought them looming closer. Huge mechanical gnashers gnashed above them.

  ‘We are the Neenor,’ said the nearest spider. ‘We are here as representatives of the Mordentor Federation. Obey and you will be spared. I am Zigg and this is my associate, Tarduz. We are from the planet Marzz.’

  ‘Mars?’ said Mildew. ‘I told you they might be from Mars, Sponge.’

  ‘No, not Mars,’ said Zigg. ‘Marzz. A different place altogether. Mars is soooo boring. Have you been there?’

  ‘No,’ said Mildew. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Well, take our word for it,’ said Tarduz with a snort of derision. ‘If you like dust, it’s great. Do you like dust?’

  ‘Not especially,’ said Sponge.

  ‘Well, then,’ said Zigg.

  ‘W-w-what do you want from us?’ asked Mildew.

  ‘We will ask the questions!’ boomed Zigg.

  The boys cowered in fear. A silence of several minutes ensued.

  ‘Well?’ said Mildew.

  ‘Oh. Yes. Lost my thread – sorry. We are looking for criminal aliens from one of our outposts on Teasel 12, charged with criminal acts against the Federation. As loyal subjects of the Federation you are compelled to hand them over or face the consequences as stipulated in Article 7198d of the Mordentor Federation Code.’

  ‘The Mordentor Federation?’ said Mildew. ‘I’ve never heard of it. Have you, Sponge?’

  ‘No,’ said Sponge. ‘How about you, Furtherm–’

  ‘Never heard of it?’ yelled Zigg. ‘Never heard of it? You were annexed into the Mordentor Federation sixty-five million of your Earth years ago.’

  ‘But there were no humans on Earth back then,’ said Furthermore. ‘That was the age of the dinosaurs. It’s a common misconception that man and dinosaur existed at the same t–’

  ‘Silence!’ yelled Zigg. ‘You are mistaken. There was an Earthloid there at that time. He was seated in a great throne. His head was as smooth as the moons of Wiffwaff. His facial hair was as luscious as the tails of the heffloids of the Forest Sector on Vibblon 7.’

  ‘Oh no …’ said Mildew.

  ‘What?’ said Kenningworth.

  ‘Mr Stupendo!’ said Mildew and Sponge together.

  ‘What?’ said Furthermore. ‘Mr Stupendo our old sports teacher?’

  ‘I fear so,’ said Mildew.

  ‘Yes,’ said Zigg. ‘You see. You’ve heard of him. But we never use his Earth name. It lacks respect. You must call him the Great One.’

  ‘The Great One?’ said Mildew. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘The Great One. He signed the relevant paperwork on your behalf before he left,’ said Tarduz. ‘It was all quite legal and above board. One of the large lizard creatures you call dinosaurs ate his throne and he was brought back to our planet, where he showed us the futility of our hitherto peaceful but boring life of study.’

  ‘You have six of your Earth hours to find and deliver the fugitives,’ boomed Tarduz.

  ‘Or you will be vaporised,’ said Zigg.

  ‘Vaporised?’ said Sponge with a whimper.

  ‘Vaporised!’ confirmed the aliens with an evil-sounding cackle.

  he boys got back in record time, sliding and scrabbling down the bracken-swathed slopes of Pug’s Peak and rushing, gasping like beached mackerel, into school. They were almost glad to have the familiar noxious fumes of lunch assault their quivering nostrils. By the time they reached the dorm, this slap to the senses had revived them a little.

  ‘Well, I’m for making a run for it,’ said Kenningworth, packing his trunk. ‘Who’s with me?’

  ‘Run where?’ said Mildew. ‘They said they were going to vaporise the planet.’

  Kenningworth stopped his frantic packing.

  ‘Oh – yes,’ he said glumly. ‘That does make escape a trifle difficult. We need to find those criminal aliens and we need to find them fast.’

  The boys nodded.

  ‘But how?’ said Sponge. ‘They could be anywhere. And we don’t even know what they look like.’

  ‘Or what size they are,’ said Filbert.

  ‘Size?’ said Mildew. ‘What difference does that make?’

  ‘Well, they could be tiny,’ said Filbert. ‘You know – like ants.’

  The boys instinctively looked down at the floor.

  ‘They may actually be ants,’ said Hipflask.

  ‘Are you saying that ants are aliens or that these particular aliens are ants from outer space?’ asked Furthermore.

  Hipflask shrugged.

  ‘Either,’ he said. ‘Or both. Or neither.’

  Furthermore rolled his eyes.

  ‘Or they could be huge,’ said Footstool, ‘and scary.’

  ‘Scarier than those giant mechanical spiders?’ said Kenningworth. ‘Unlikely. Plus we’d have noticed them by now if they were. The scariest thing round here is Mrs Glump’s cooking. If there are aliens about, why haven’t we seen them?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Furthermore. ‘Surely we’d have noticed. The likelihood is they will be very different from us. They could just be some kind of floating blob for all we know.’

  Mildew and Sponge had the same thought at exactly the same moment.

  ‘Giant floating eyeballs!’ they said in unison.

  ‘What?’ said the other boys.

  Mildew and Sponge were remembering their encounter with a giant floating eyeball on their trip into the near future in the time machine. Surely the giant floating eyeball must be one of the renegade aliens the Neenor were looking for.

  ‘Er … We just thought the aliens might be giant floating eyeballs,’ said Mildew. ‘Just a wild guess.’

  ‘That’s quite specific,’ said Furthermore.

  Mildew and Sponge opened their respective mouths but only air made any attempt to come out. ‘Why are we listening to these cough drops anyway?’ said Kenningworth. ‘Have you forgotten we are in imminent danger of being vaporised?’

  ‘And what was all that about Stupendo being the Great One?’ said Furthermore. ‘How could Stupendo be around at the time of the dinosaurs? It makes no sense.’

  Mildew and Sponge shrugged and adopted an expression they felt sure conveyed a complete lack of knowledge of all Stupendo-related matters. Kenningworth peered at them suspiciously.

  ‘I wonder if we shouldn’t tell the teachers,’ said Mildew, backing away from him.

  ‘The teachers?’ said Kenningworth. ‘Wouldn’t they just get in the way? We’re trying to speed things up.’

  ‘Sponge and I have had reason to consult Mr Luckless on a number of occasions
in recent weeks, on a variety of subjects. He has proved to be very sensible and useful.’

  ‘Are we talking about the same Mr Luckless?’ said Kenningworth. ‘The twitchy history teacher who would jump at his own shadow?’

  ‘That’s a little unfair,’ said Sponge.

  ‘Let’s all go and see him now,’ said Hipflask. ‘We have to do something.’

  ‘No,’ said Mildew. ‘I think it’s best Sponge and I see him alone. A crowd of us will make him even more nervous than he usually is. He’s easily flustered.’

  ‘And yet Mr Luckless is the one we’re pinning our hopes on?’ said Kenningworth.

  ‘All right. Go and see what he says,’ said Furthermore. ‘We’ll wait for you in the refectory.’

  ‘The refectory?’ said Mildew. ‘Surely you can’t eat at a time like this?’

  ‘I’m hungry,’ said Furthermore.

  ‘Me too,’ said Enderpenny.

  ‘Come on, Sponge,’ said Mildew.

  ‘But I’m also hungry,’ said Sponge.

  Mildew was already heading towards Mr Luckless’s classroom, though, and after only the minutest of pauses, Sponge set off after him.

  he boys found Mr Luckless, the history teacher, in his classroom. Peering through the window in his door, they saw he was in his usual state of dreamy melancholy.

  This had become the norm ever since the Roman love of his life, Miss Livia – brought to Maudlin Towers during Mr Luckless’s own time-travelling adventures – had returned to her own time (and husband).

  ‘Poor Mr Luckless,’ said Sponge. ‘It seems as though he will never recover from the loss of Miss Livia.’

  Mildew nodded.

  ‘In many ways his behaviour is similar to that of Miss Bronteen’s,’ he replied. ‘Who can understand the ways of teachers, Sponge?’

  After several knocks, Mr Luckless snapped out of his despond enough to respond, and bade them enter.

  ‘Ah, boys,’ he said, frowning slightly and with an air of trepidation that did not go unnoticed.

  ‘Is everything all right, sir?’ asked Mildew. ‘You don’t seem entirely pleased to see us.’

  Mr Luckless laced his fingers together and eased himself back into his chair. His lips pouted and twitched beneath his moustache as though struggling to give form to his thoughts.

  ‘Hmmm,’ he said. ‘Well. Let me see. How can I put this? There does seem to be an unfortunate pattern forming.’

  ‘A pattern, sir?’ said Sponge. ‘How so?’

  Mr Luckless sighed and pushed his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose.

  ‘Well, I don’t want to seem churlish, boys, but you only come and see me when something bad has happened or is about to happen. Or,’ he added, nervously peering through the open door behind them, ‘when something bad is actually already happening.’

  ‘Oh, that can’t be true,’ said Mildew. He tried, but failed, however, to think of an occasion where this had not been the case.

  ‘Well?’ said Mr Luckless.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Has something bad happened?’ he asked. ‘Or is something bad about to happen? Or is it already happening?’

  ‘Erm …’ began Mildew. ‘When you put it like that, yes.’

  ‘Which?’ said Mr Luckless.

  ‘Both,’ said Sponge. ‘All.’

  Mr Luckless made a slight whining noise through his nose.

  ‘Out with it then,’ he said.

  Mildew looked at Sponge. Sponge looked at Mildew. They both looked at Mr Luckless. There didn’t seem any way to ease into it, so they decided it was best to blurt it out.

  ‘We have been invaded by creatures from another world, sir.’

  Mr Luckless paused a moment and then chuckled heartily. Mildew raised an eyebrow and stared at Sponge, who shrugged in befuddlement. Mr Luckless chuckled on.

  ‘You don’t seem overly concerned, sir,’ said Mildew.

  ‘Oh, boys, boys,’ he said, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘They may seem like creatures from another world but the fairer sex are the same as us. Well, not exactly the same as us, of course …’

  Mr Luckless blushed at his own words. The boys accompanied him for a moment.

  ‘Not the girls, sir,’ said Mildew with a sigh. ‘Actual creatures from an actual other world. Aliens, if you will.’

  ‘But what do you mean?’ said Mr Luckless. ‘Don’t tell me the Belgians have landed!’

  ‘No, sir – this is a vehicular craft from …’

  The boys both pointed upwards and Mr Luckless could not help but follow their gaze – and found himself examining the light fitting.

  ‘From the lower school’s English department’s stock cupboard?’

  ‘From the heavens, sir,’ said Sponge. ‘Not from upstairs.’

  ‘But such things are only the fanciful imaginings of fantastical fiction …’

  Mildew pulled out the drawing he had done up on Pug’s Peak and carefully placed it in front of the history teacher. Mr Luckless stared in amazement and got to his feet, his chair screeching on the floor like a wounded squid.

  ‘Good Lord!’ he cried.

  ‘There’s more, sir,’ said Mildew. ‘Be brave. It involves Mr Stupendo.’

  ‘Mr Stupendo?’ said Mr Luckless, collapsing back into his seat. ‘Our old sports teacher? He’s not back, is he? I never really liked –’

  ‘The fact is, sir,’ said Mildew, ‘Sponge and I may have sent him back to the time of the dinosaurs …’

  Mr Luckless put his hand to his head in astonishment but then chuckled despite himself.

  ‘The poor man,’ said Mr Luckless. ‘Or should we say, poor dinosaurs!’

  ‘Very droll, sir,’ said Mildew. ‘Sadly these very same creatures from another world also came here at that very same dawn of time and took said sports teacher to their planet where they seem to have worshipped him like some kind of hairless-headed god. They call him the Great One.’

  ‘The Great One?’

  They nodded solemnly.

  ‘Good grief,’ said Mr Luckless.

  ‘This is all because of Mr Particle’s time machine, sir,’ said Mildew. ‘It has caused mayhem.’

  ‘I think it’s best we keep the time machine to ourselves, boys,’ said Mr Luckless with an arch of the eyebrow. ‘But we really do have to inform the Headmaster of this current crisis.’

  ‘Very well, sir,’ said Mildew.

  ‘I’m glad you came to me, boys,’ said Mr Luckless, getting to his feet. ‘I’m glad you saw me as someone you could put your faith in.’

  ‘So are we, sir,’ they said.

  ‘Aaargh!’ cried Mr Luckless, jumping sideways.

  The boys did likewise, looking around in horror to see what it was that had terrified their teacher.

  ‘Ah – it’s all right,’ he said. ‘Panic over. Just my own shadow.’

  Mildew and Sponge glanced at each other, sighed and followed their history teacher out of the room.

  r Luckless and the boys strode through cloister and corridor until they came to the Headmaster’s office. Mr Luckless rapped on the door and after a moment Miss Pernickety unbolted and unlocked it, opening it only very slightly.

  ‘Mr Luckless?’ she said, peering suspiciously through the crack. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘We are here to see the Headmaster.’

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ said Miss Pernickety, closing the door. ‘The Headmaster is busy.’

  ‘But this is urgent,’ said Mr Luckless, trying to force the door open again.

  ‘The Headmaster is busy,’ growled Miss Pernickety, putting her shoulder against the door and pushing Mr Luckless back.

  ‘To me, boys,’ said Mr Luckless. ‘Miss Pernickety is surprisingly strong.’

  Mildew and Sponge added their weight to Mr Luckless’s and they burst through the door into the office and set off towards the Headmaster’s study.

  But before Mr Luckless could place his hand on the door handle, Miss Pernickety leaped like a panther on to his
back, grabbing him round the neck and wailing like a banshee.

  ‘The Headmaster is busy!!!’ she yelled.

  Mr Luckless staggered round and round, choking, with Miss Pernickety whirling about, her feet scattering things this way and that. Mr Luckless turned the colour of boiled ham, his eyes bulging.

  Mildew tried to intervene but was caught round the side of the head by Miss Pernickety’s foot, knocking him high into the air to land on top of a filing cabinet.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ said the Headmaster, suddenly standing in the doorway.

  Mr Luckless came to a halt with Miss Pernickety still tied around his neck like a jumper. Sponge helped Mildew down from the filing cabinet.

  ‘I told him you were busy but he would not listen, Headmaster.’

  ‘Very well, my dear,’ said the Headmaster. ‘You did your best. I shall take it from here.’

  ‘Yes, Headmaster,’ she said, releasing her grip and dropping to the floor with a gentle thud. She straightened her clothes and returned to her desk as though nothing had happened.

  ‘Miss Pernickety takes her secretarial duties very seriously, doesn’t she, Headmaster?’ said Mr Luckless as he followed him to his study, rubbing his throat.

  ‘Oh yes,’ said the Headmaster. ‘You are lucky to be alive.’

  Mr Luckless chuckled at this but the Headmaster turned to face him and they saw that it was no joke. Sponge looked back at Miss Pernickety and hurried on. When they entered the study they found the Headmistress of the girls’ school sitting in an armchair.

  ‘You have company,’ said Mr Luckless.

  ‘I told you he was busy!’ bellowed Miss Pernickety from the other room.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve been introduced,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Mr Luckless, this is Miss MT2T.’

  ‘Miss MT2T?’ said Mr Luckless. ‘What an unusual name. Is it Scottish perhaps?’

  ‘I do not … have sufficient information … to answer that … question.’