by Cas Lester
Harvey made an instant, but brilliant command decision. Partly because the NerdBot 1000 had just rescued them from a horrible fate, but mostly because the Toxic Spew seriously, desperately and urgently needed a cleaner. He said: ‘Fine by me!’
Then he sprinted to the bridge, with Scrummage and the droid following.
Don’t panic!
SCHWOOOOSH
The bridge doors opened and Harvey raced through. He was relieved to see Maxie and Yargal were safe. Oddly rainbow-coloured, but safe. They looked liked they’d survived an explosion in the decorating department of a DIY store.
Peering through the grimy, paint-splattered vision screens round the three sides of the bridge, the crew watched the other two security droids trundling away. They’d clearly lost interest now that the crew were safely locked inside the Toxic Spew.
A few moments later Scrummage and the NerdBot 1000 arrived on the bridge.
‘Aaaaaargh!’ panicked Yargal, waggling her tentacles hysterically. Gizmo gulped and scrambled under his seat.
‘Harvey, look out!’ yelled Maxie, leaping clean over the flight desk and ducking down behind it.
‘Don’t panic!’ cried Harvey. ‘It’s OK! This is er … a NerdBot and um …’ Harvey suddenly realised he didn’t know whether a NerdBot was a ‘he’ or a ‘she’ so he said, ‘and, it’s joining the crew!’
‘What?’ demanded Maxie promptly standing up and glaring at him challengingly from under her fringe.
‘Captain!’ exclaimed Gizmo pompously (well, as pompously as he could since he was scrabbling out from under his chair at the time). ‘You can’t go around taking on crew members without even consulting us.’
‘Yes he can, he’s the captain,’ retorted Maxie, clambering back over the flight desk.
‘I’m Nerdie,’ creaked the robot, rumbling forward. Then it stopped and scanned the bridge with its supersonic laser eyes and the entire crew winced with embarrassment. As usual, the bridge was utterly gross and even worse, splattered with puddles of Gordon’s wee.
‘It’s filthy!’ croaked Nerdie rustily, and using one claw to detach its VoltaVacuum attachment, and the others to produce a mop and bucket, a dustpan and brush and a bin liner, it started cleaning up.
The crew were gobsmacked. If you’d slapped them round face with a damp duster and a soggy squeezy mop they couldn’t have been more surprised. Not even if you’d followed that by bashing them with the bucket.
‘Good luck with that!’ snorted Maxie to Nerdie, sarcastically.
‘Oh good decision, sir!’ exclaimed Gizmo.
Scrummage pretended to vomit in disgust at the sight of Gizmo creeping up to Harvey.
Yargal scooped up Gordon. ‘You need a nappy!’ she announced and slurped off to the galley to make one out of some kitchen roll and goo-proof plasters.
Big mistake
Then, much to the bridge crew’s annoyance, Harvey insisted they finish collecting the garbage from Waitless. Which, as a matter of fact, was all very noble of him, but turned out to be a big mistake.
(If you’re one of those readers who hates being given hints like that and you want to know why it was a big mistake, then you can turn to page 146 and find out.
But then you’d skip pages 130 to 145 wouldn’t you, and you might miss something important, mightn’t you?
Of course you might not.
I’m not telling.)
Sighing meaningfully and rolling her eyes pointedly, Maxie positioned the Toxic Spew near the garbage exit pipe of the intergalactic super store. Then, muttering mightily and darkly, Scrummage hurriedly placed the Ultrawave 3.2 Vacuum Pump over the garbage outlet and set the controls to Super Nova Nozzle Plus. And very quickly, the rubbish was sucked into the pump bin in the hold and Scrummage detached the pipe.
‘Now can we go?’ said Maxie rudely, her hands poised impatiently over the flight controls. Harvey nodded and the Pilot Officer expertly flew the ship off the deck, out of the giant hangar doors of the intergalactic super store, and away into space.
But three seconds later
WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!
all the alarms on the garbage control desk went off. Again.
Chapter Seventeen
Three kinds of danger
‘Now what’s happened?’ asked Harvey anxiously as Scrummage shot to his feet.
‘Nothing to worry about!’ replied Scrummage lightly, but he rushed off the command bridge with alarming and suspicious speed.
‘I’ll come with you!’ called Harvey, jumping out of the captain’s chair.
‘No need sir, it’s all under control,’ lied the Rubbish Officer through his teeth and pelting off, the doors schwoooshing shut behind him.
‘Can I offer you a cup of coffee, Captain?’ rasped Nerdie, whirring up to him so Harvey might hear him over the deafening whooping.
‘Not now, Nerdie,’ said Harvey, giving the robot a withering look, which was of course, completely wasted on the droid, before ordering the computer to cut the alarms on the bridge.
Scrummage hurtled down to the Vacuum Control Centre in the ship’s hold to check that his sticky-tape repair to the hosepipe was working.
It wasn’t.
Steam poured out of the pump and the pressure dials read:
DANGER!
SERIOUS DANGER!
and
EXTREME DANGER!
‘Fluttering puke!’ he groaned, frantically strapping more tape around the hose.
‘Bridge to Scrummage,’ radioed Harvey, worriedly. ‘Is everything all right down there?’
‘Um …’ replied Scrummage, trying to untangle a length of sticky tape from his fingers. Then, not wanting to fess up to Harvey that everything was absolutely and completely and totally NOT all right, he added: ‘I’m just a bit tied up right now, Captain.’
So, back on the bridge, Harvey asked the computer for an update instead.
The computer’s lights flashed on and off importantly for a few moments, then it said confidently: ‘Well Captain, I don’t like to worry you, but
a) there’s a nasty crack in the subcarrier overlay cover of the nanodrive belt, and
b) three of the flange brackets have snapped right off, and
c) there’s a bit of sticky toffee pudding trapped in the hyper-vacuum nodes, which is causing a bit of a system breakdown … failure … meltdown … thing.’
‘Are you making this up?’ asked Harvey.
‘Yes,’ admitted the computer. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea what’s going on down there.’
Don’t even ask, just run!
In the pump room Scrummage, on the other hand, was horribly aware of what was going on. The pressure dials now read:
INCREDIBLE DANGER!
UNIMAGINABLE DANGER!
and
DON’T EVEN ASK, JUST RUN!
Bravely (or possibly gobsmackingly stupidly), Scrummage ignored the flashing lights and shrieking alarms and was just tearing off another bit of sticky tape when
KA-BOOM-SPLAT!
The vacuum bin exploded.
It was so loud they could hear the explosion on the bridge.
‘Scrummage?’ called Harvey through the radio. ‘SCRUMMAGE!’
There was no reply.
Harvey tore off the bridge, closely followed by Snuffles.
When they reached the Vacuum Control Centre, Harvey was hit by an appalling smell. It was like rotten eggs, mouldy blue cheese and soggy cabbage. Gagging badly, Harvey doubled over, trying not to throw up, while the Hazard Hunting Hound went bananas.
(If you’ve been following the story properly, you might be wondering whether he went bananas like your yellow Earth ones or like the bouncy blue outer space ones.
For the record – he did a lot of bouncing, but didn’t go blue.
And can I just ask you something? Since, your Earth bananas just lie there doing nothing more interesting than going from yellow to black with a brown spotty phase in between, why do Earth people say someone ‘went bananas’ whe
n you mean ‘went crazy’?
Now that is crazy, if you ask me.)
GRRRR, WOUFF, WOUFF!
ARROUUUU!
went Snuffles, barking excitedly and bouncing about.
The stench made Harvey’s eyes water so much he could hardly see. But through the plasti-glass window he could just about make out the crumpled form of Scrummage collapsed and coughing on the deck. A decidedly unhealthy looking thick yellow fog curled around the room.
‘SCRUMMAGE!’ he yelled. There was no response.
Harvey had no idea what the sickly smog was, but he knew he had to get Scrummage out – and supanova fast!
Chapter Eighteen
A matter of life and death
Covering his nose and mouth with one hand, Harvey grabbed the door to the Vacuum Control Centre with the other and gave it a shove – but it was locked! He tried rattling it, kicking it and then taking a running jump at it (literally). Which was very dramatic but only ended up with him smashing his shoulder and bruising his knee. It wouldn’t budge. And worse, he suddenly realised he couldn’t contact the bridge, because the intercom was in the pump room!
Harvey raced back up to the bridge, his heart thumping and his legs pounding. Luckily for Scrummage, Harvey was match fit.
Panting heavily, Harvey burst onto the bridge.
‘Would you like that cup of coffee now, Captain?’ croaked Nerdie hopefully.
‘Not now, Nerdie!’ gasped Harvey and, taking a deep breath, garbled: ‘Scrummage-is-trapped- inside-the-Vacuum-Control-Centre-and-it’s-full-of-yellow-smoke-and-I-think-it’s-probably-poisonous-but-I-can’t-open-the-doors!’
‘Ah, yes, that’ll be the automatic computerised safety lock,’ nodded Gizmo, casually from the engineering desk.
‘Well, turn it off and unlock the doors!’ cried Harvey.
‘I am sorry, Captain, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to ask the computer if it will be so kind as to do that,’ said Gizmo, carelessly.
Maxie rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously Gizmo, is this the right moment for you to be hopeless as well as useless?’ she said.
‘Care for a coffee, Maxie?’ asked Nerdie.
‘Not now, Nerdie!’ she snapped.
‘Computer! Unlock the doors to the Vacuum Control Room!’ ordered Harvey.
‘Did I hear a please?’ replied the computer snippily, it’s lights blinking on and off crossly.
‘No, you didn’t! It’s a matter of life and death!’ yelled Harvey.
‘It may very well be, but that’s no reason to forget our manners, is it? And anyhow, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea because
a) there might be something noxious in there that would poison the crew, or
b) there might be something toxic in there that would melt the ship, or
c) both.’
‘I don’t care!’ bellowed Harvey. ‘Now unlock those doors or Scrummage could die!’
‘Hmmm, is that really a problem?’ asked the computer with a gobsmacking lack of concern.
‘No,’ said Gizmo.
‘YES!’ yelled Harvey.
‘Captain,’ said Gizmo pompously. ‘May I remind you of the Intergalactic Travel and Transport Pact rules and regulations regarding …’
‘No!’ barked Harvey, ‘you may not!’
EVERYBODY PANIC!
‘Gizmo can turn off the lock,’ said Maxie suddenly.
‘Can I?’ asked Gizmo, spinning round to look at her. He was genuinely surprised.
‘Yes. You can override the computer’s locking system. Just hit the EVERYBODY PANIC! button.’
Gizmo scanned his engineering desk. ‘Seriously! Who knew? Which one is that?’
‘I’m taking a wild guess here, but maybe it’s the big red button that says EVERYBODY PANIC! on it,’ said Maxie, drily.
Gizmo punched it. ‘How did you even know that?’ he asked Maxie, very impressed.
Harvey didn’t wait to hear the answer. He charged back off the bridge.
‘I’m coming with you,’ yelled Maxie, jumping up from the flight desk.
‘No,’ shouted Harvey. ‘Stay here.’
‘Why, because I’m a girl and you don’t think I can cope with a little bit of poisonous gas that might melt my fingers to the bone, boil my eyeballs, rot my guts and slowly but surely choke me to death?’ she snapped, pushing her sleeves up angrily and striding up to him.
No, ditzoid, because you’re the only one who can fly the ship! But tell Yargal to get down there. Urgently.’
Maxie stopped in her tracks. ‘Fair point. OK, fine. But don’t call me ditzoid!’ she hollered after him, as Harvey raced down to rescue Scrummage.
‘Can I interest you in a cup of coffee, Gizmo?’ creaked Nerdie brightly, as meanwhile the vast front vision screen was filled with a message that flashed on and off and read:
EVERYBODY PANIC!
EVERYBODY PANIC!
EVERYBODY PANIC!
It wasn’t having much effect on anyone on the bridge of the Toxic Spew. Maxie ignored it, Nerdie was making coffee, Gizmo was too busy deciding how many sugars he wanted and, as usual, the computer couldn’t be bothered.
Down in the ship’s hold, Harvey raced along the filthy corridor to the Vacuum Control Centre and flung himself at the doors. They flew open. Which, on the one hand, was good for Scrummage, but on the other hand, was going to be very bad for Harvey and on the other, other hand (sorry, I’ve lost count of the hands, I think it’s three so far), would be almost completely and utterly and totally disastrous for the Toxic Spew and the entire crew!
(Again, if you’re one of those impatient readers who want skip forward to find out why, you’ll have to flick to page …
Actually, no, I’m not telling you. It’s only 7 pages. No sneaky peeking. You’ll have to hang on, like everyone else.)
Chapter Nineteen
Junk Skunks!
A dozen or so weird little aliens suddenly shot past Harvey and darted off down the corridor like lightning, their feet skittering on the metal deck.
Fat and rubbery, green and purple with lurid pink spots, Harvey thought they looked a bit like a cross between a speckled skunk, a toy frog and … a balloon. Some were much fatter than others, but they all looked like they’d been pumped full of air.
The stink was indescribable. It was so strong Harvey could literally feel it clawing up his nose, clogging his throat and crawling into his lungs. It was so strong he could almost smell it with his ears.
Snuffles went berserk, snapping at the little aliens with his ferocious teeth, trying to catch them, but they were far too quick.
GRRR, SNAP! SNAP!
(I was tempted to interrupt the story here to give you some interesting facts about these little aliens. But then I decided to put them on a later page instead.
And, no, I’m not giving you the page number.
I know what you’re like.)
Medical Officer Yargal had picked up her first aid kit and was hurriedly making her way down to the Vacuum Control Centre from the ship’s sickbay as fast as her single, slimy foot would let her.
‘Don’t panic, Captain. I’m on my way!’ she cried, frankly pointlessly because
a) there was no way he could hear her from where he was, and
b) in a life or death situation, the thought of a medical emergency being in the hands of a Yargillian is enough to make anybody panic.
SLITHER, SLITHER, SLIME … SLIDE.
She was going faster than a slug on a wet slope – going uphill.
It was quite impressive.
But not as impressive as the steaming cup of galaxy-class intergalactic coffee with two sugars, a whirl of cream and a snazzy zigzag of caramel cream sauce on the top which Nerdie was handing Gizmo on the command bridge.
In all his intergalactic missions Gizmo had never seen one quite like it. And neither had Maxie who instantly demanded one like it but with chocolate sprinkles on top.
It’s too late for me, Captain, but save yourself!
Meanwhile, back outside the Vacuum Control Centre, the strange little alien creatures bumped and bounced from one thing to another, and ducking and weaving they shot along the corridor. Now and then they’d stop, suck in their sides like a shrinking balloon, lift their tails and squirt out a bright green goo. Then, and this is the best bit, they’d turn and sniff the air – proudly.
Frankly, it was eye-wateringly ghastly.
Not that Harvey had time to hang about and watch them, or to notice the wafts of yellow smog drifting up from the dollops of goo on the deck and walls. He was too busy trying to rescue his Chief Rubbish Officer.
‘Hold on, Scrummage,’ he cried, grabbing the outsized officer under the arms.
Coughing and choking, Scrummage clutched at Harvey’s arm and managed to gasp: ‘Junk Skunks! It’s too late for me, Captain, but save yourself!’ before he passed out completely.
Desperately, Harvey tried to haul Scrummage out of the fog-filled room. But it was hopeless. Obviously.
(Look, it’s not going to take a genius with a calculator and a ‘Power to Weight Ratio’ App to know there was no way Harvey was going to be able to drag Scrummage even a nano-smidge across the floor.
I mean, you do the sums:
If Harvey (Life Form 1) weighs (x) and Scrummage (Life Form 2) weighs 3 × (x)
Then the chance of (Life Form 1) pulling (Life Form 2) = Fat Chance.)
But in any case, within seconds the appalling reek had overpowered Harvey too! He blacked out and
THUD!
slumped onto the deck.
Whimpering anxiously, Snuffles darted over to Harvey and licked his face. Harvey didn’t move. So Snuffles dribbled on him, nudged him with his huge meatball of a nose and scrabbled at him with his great hairy front paws – but he couldn’t wake him up.
WHINE … WHIMPER, WHIMPER!
went Snuffles worriedly.
(Believe me, if being mauled and slobbered on by a fully grown Hazard Hunting Hound from Canine Major doesn’t wake you up, you are seriously out cold.)
