‘Nothing much,’ said the second rat. ‘Just the end of the human race.’
He tittered at first then broke out into a proper laugh. Soon after, the other rats joined in.
‘No more rat traps!’ one cried out.
‘No more poisons!’ called another.
‘No more Disney cartoons,’ laughed yet another.
A few of the raccoons sort of smiled, but glares from Rocky, Clint and Arnie quickly wiped it off their faces.
‘Exactly how do you suppose Mick and his mob will cleanse the humans without wiping out the rest of us?’ Rocky snarled.
The rats looked at each other.
‘He swore an SRO,’ said the first rat.
‘An SRO?’ said Tiger. ‘What’s that?’
‘A Sacred Rat Oath,’ said the first rat, showing more of his front teeth than usual.
The other rats sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Yes,’ they muttered to each other. ‘He swore an SRO!’
‘It’s very sacred,’ the second rat assured them. ‘And binding – for all eternity.’
‘Only one problem,’ said Judge Wanda. ‘He’s a robot, not a rat!’
‘No,’ said the second rat. ‘He’s definitely a rat. He knew all the rodentia codes and the secret paw-shake.’
‘Well, I’ve never seen a robot with a tail,’ said the first rat.
‘Or a cowboy hat,’ nodded another rat behind them.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Tiger. ‘Since when do rats wear cowboy hats?’
Both rats started to speak at once.
‘You go ahead,’ said the first rat.
‘No, you were first, as usual,’ said the second rat. ‘Be my guest!’
And then neither of them spoke.
‘Let me explain it to you,’ Tark said, slowly. ‘Mick is an ET. As in a—’
‘ET?’ the two rats said at once. ‘We loved that film!’
Tark held up his toe, which was throbbing even more ruby-red than the rats’ eyes. ‘Listen – this is important. Mick is an Abell 2218 starship commander. The Abell 2218s are an advanced robot species programmed to destroy Earth, not to cleanse it. Mick has the power to shape-shift into any being he likes, and to adopt their language. Face it – you’ve been sucked in!’
The first rat cleared his throat. ‘Be that as it may, if it hastens the day when rats inherit the Earth, so be it!’
‘Yes,’ said the second rat, puffing out his chest grandly. ‘Rats, out of the gutters. Rats, out of the landfills. Rats, out of—’
‘You’re not listening!’ Tark said, his toe throbbing even more brightly. ‘Mick’s robots may be advanced, but they’re not advanced enough to cleanse selectively. Do you really think rats will be spared during the firestorm?’
‘Firestorm?’ said the first rat. ‘He didn’t say anything about a firestorm!’
‘What exactly did he say?’ said Tiger, not surprised at how stupid rats could be.
‘A shower,’ said the second rat. ‘That’s what they’ll use. “Think of it as a kind of carwash on a global scale,” he said. “Cleansing everything.”’
‘You mean drowning everything?’ said Tark.
‘Only... briefly,’ said the first rat. ‘Forty days and forty nights at most, after which there’ll be lots of clear days and sunshine to dry things out.’
‘And how exactly will you rats survive the flood?’ asked Number 12. ‘Will your scooters float?’
‘Of course not,’ said the second rat. ‘Follow me.’
The rats led the way to a humming control panel just inside the opening of the tunnel. After a nod from the first rat, a big albino rat at the control panel pushed a few buttons. There was a whirling sound, a whoosh of air, and then the albino stood up and gave a short bow.
‘That’s it?’ said Tiger. ‘I don’t see anything!’
The second rat motioned to one of the rats to head for the entrance. The rat hesitated but then took off on his scooter. But just as he reached the entrance, he seemed to hit an invisible wall and collapsed in a heap. Now on its side, the scooter coughed and died, though its wheels kept spinning.
‘An Anti-Matter Membrane,’ Tark said. ‘Simple, a bit primitive, but effective. Water-tight, too.’
‘Yes,’ said the first rat. ‘And Mick has installed them in every rat tunnel in New York. For free!’
‘Very nice,’ said Tark. ‘Only one problem, though.’
‘We’ve tested them,’ the second rat protested. ‘No water gets through!’
‘Or anything else,’ said Tark. ‘AMMs are fine when you have a source of fresh air, but not so life-friendly when you don’t. I don’t suppose Mick mentioned that to you?’
‘He might have just forgot?’ offered the second rat meekly.
‘Forty days and forty nights is a long time, when your air supply is limited,’ said Rocky, thin-lipped, even for a raccoon.
‘Quite,’ said Tark. ‘And the smell will get pretty high down here, especially after you rats start dropping – if you’ll excuse the expression – like flies!’
‘You would say that,’ said the first rat. ‘After all, you’re in league with the humans, and they just want to keep things as they are – with them up there, and us down here!’
‘I thought rats liked dark, dank places,’ said Tiger.
‘Only in Disney cartoons,’ the first rat glowered. ‘We need Vitamin D, too!’
‘Mick won’t leave us down here to die,’ said the second rat. ‘He respects us.’
‘Oh, really,’ said Judge Wanda. ‘And what makes you think that?’
‘He knew that we’ve been around a lot longer than humans. Since the Paleocene, actually.’
Tiger had no idea what the Paleocene was, but he wasn’t game to ask since cats were supposed to be better read than rats.
‘Hmm,’ he said, instead. ‘That long ago, eh?’
With a flick of his magic toe, Tark summoned another holograph, with the heading Paleocene, then zoomed in a bit on the timetable until they could see images of several Rattus species, some large, some smaller, but none looking very friendly.
The rats closest to the holograph stood up on their hind legs and saluted their ancestors and hummed something like a national anthem, but drifting in and out of key until it made Tiger’s ears hurt.
‘Not bad,’ Tark said, pointing at the timeline. ‘It says you’ve been around for nearly 55 million years.’
The first rat chuckled. ‘Not us personally,’ he said. ‘But, yes, we’ve been around much longer than humans.’
‘Ha!’ said Tiger. ‘That’s nothing – cats have been around for at least 65 million years!’ The research he’d done on Wikipedia one night when Alexander had fallen asleep next to his laptop also mentioned that ancient dogs had appeared around the same time, a point that Cleo from Next Door never let him forget, but there was no point in bringing that up now.
‘IN ANY CASE,’ said the second rat, getting impatient, ‘Mick said we deserved respect – much more than humans have shown us over the years.’
‘Flattery!’ said Number 12, foaming a bit at the mouth. ‘Can’t you see he just wants to turn one species against the other? Divide and conquer?’
The first rat shook his head vigorously. ‘This is the way it’ll work. First, the Big Flood comes, wiping out the humans and their pollution, then we come out into the sunshine to rule a cleansed Earth. Rattus Rule!’
The other rats joined in with a shrieking chorus of Rattus Rule, Rattus Rule, until it was deafening for the Crew.
‘Stop. STOP!’ Tark commanded. ‘We get the point. But Number 12 is correct. Mick and his starships come from a galaxy where no water exists, so they wouldn’t know the first thing about starting a flood. Volcanos, they know. Lava floes are their playthings. You and your species will be safe down here, for a while. Until the lava arrives, to turn your bunkers into ovens. Billions of roasted rats will not be a pretty sight – or smell!’
Tiger’s nose twitched with disgu
st. In his youth, he’d had his share of mice, and even the odd rat, for snacks, but even then their meat was rather stringy. Barbecued pigeon he could imagine, but not barbecued rat, even with a honey sesame sauce.
‘It’s a trick!’ cried the second rat, showing his very long teeth. ‘We’re this close to world domination. I say we stick with the Accord!’
‘Which Accord?’ said Judge Wanda, seizing on it. ‘Did you sign anything?’
The first rat hesitated. ‘Yes. He had this glass plate thingy and told me I had to put my right paw on it to commit for all Rattus. It flashed green when I did, and Mick said the Accord was signed.’
‘No matter,’ said Tark. ‘Inter-Galactic Command regulations require a cooling off period of 20 Griffon days during which you can change your mind.’
‘What’s that in Earth days?’ asked Tiger.
Tark scratched his head. ‘Depends on which of our moons is closest to the horizon when the pact is signed. Call it one of your Earth months and you’ll be close enough.’
The first rat ground his teeth. ‘Doesn’t matter. I’ve signed for us, and that’s that.’
‘But if Mick tricked you into thinking you’d be the supreme species after the flood,’ said Judge Wanda, ‘you have every right to tell him that it was done under false pretenses!’
Tiger could see that they were getting through to the first rat, but the rest of them still seemed keen on global domination, or the little that would be left of it after Mick’s starships attacked.
‘It’s not as simple as just backing out,’ said the first rat. ‘There are processes to be followed. Motions to be written. Votes to be taken!’
‘Yeah,’ said the second rat. ‘We’re pretty democratic down here, despite what the humans might think.’
‘Wow,’ said Tiger. ‘I had no idea of that!’
‘Of course not,’ said the second rat. ‘What else would we expect of a domesticated species.’
Tiger wasn’t sure what “domesticated” meant, but he suspected it might be even worse than being regarded as an Introduced one. This was not the time to argue the point, though.
Tark narrowed his eyes. ‘We’ll leave it with you, then, and hope for a speedy decision. Remember, Mick’s forces could attack any day – even any hour – now!’
‘We’ll be in touch,’ the first rat said quickly.
in which Greenhouse Ginger Cheesecake
is on the menu again
No sooner had the Crew and the raccoons returned to ground level, and the manhole cover screwed itself back in place, dawn broke over the horizon.
‘Well, well,’ said Tark, letting his toe cool off since it wasn’t needed this time. ‘I guess those rats are a bit smarter than your usual subterranean types.’
Tiger grimaced. English wasn’t even Tark’s first language, but he still managed to use words that made Tiger wish he had a dictionary.
Rocky the raccoon must have been a reader, too. ‘I think he means bottom feeders,’ he said.
‘But what are we going to do?’ said Syd, his wings getting twitchy. ‘Aren’t we running out of time?’
‘Yeah,’ said Clint. ‘Where are your troops? We need to be circling the wagons – or something like that – before those robots attack!’
Just then, a shooting star shot across the sky. Or at least what Tiger thought was a shooting star until he realized it was too big and red to be a shooting star, or even a comet, as it streaked closer and closer to them.
‘It’s a plane,’ said Number 12, noticing it, too.
‘It’s a bird,’ said Syd, admiring its speed.
‘It’s Superman?’ said the raccoons, as though they’d just been watching the film.
‘It’s Eudora!’ Tark declared, as if it should have been obvious from the start.
As the ship came in for a landing, Tiger remembered it from the very first time he’d seen it on Greenhouse Place, hovering over Alexander’s greenhouse, sending Tony and Cleo into barking hysterics.
With a whoosh and a flash of red light, a ramp appeared from the underside of the ship and not only Eudora but also Prince and Myrtle descended.
‘Oh, my,’ Myrtle was giggling. ‘You said we’d get here quickly, but that flight took my breath away!’
‘Is it time, then, Your Worships?’ Tark asked.
Eudora and Prince nodded.
‘It is time,’ said Eudora. ‘And there isn’t much of it left.’
‘I’ve always wanted to come to New York,’ said Myrtle, just prattling on. ‘But there was never enough money left over after all of Bradley’s golf tournaments. Now we’re here. Prince, how can I ever thank you?’
‘We will need cheesecakes,’ said Prince. ‘Lots of them – and soon.’
‘My Girl Guide and Boy Scout baking teams are working on that at this very moment,’ said Myrtle. ‘Under strict supervision, of course – My Kitchen Rules! But how will we get the cakes here?’
‘Teleportation Xpress,’ winked Eudora. ‘Once we have confirmed our special session at your United Nations.’
Tark seemed to deflate a bit. ‘Was I supposed to arrange that, too?’
‘No, Lieutenant Tark,’ said Prince. ‘You have exceeded our expectations for this mission – and more.’
‘I fear that the rats may abandon us,’ said Tark. ‘The humans have treated them rather badly.’
‘Oh, but you have won over the raccoons,’ said Eudora, nodding at them.
Arnie stepped forward. ‘Right you are, Queenie,’ he said, bowing slightly. ‘And we are worth ten times our weight in rats – not to mention our superior brain power!’
Rocky gave a little bow, too. ‘At your service,’ he said. ‘If you need a quick entry into the United Nations, consider us your locksmiths.’
Tiger wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but maybe it had something to do with picking locks.
With a swirling flare of Eudora’s eyes, a holograph appeared before them, and the wavering figures of President Obama and Madonna came into sharp focus.
‘Hot dog!’ said Number 12. ‘That’s better than a 3D TV! Is that really who I think I’m seeing?’
‘Yes,’ said Eudora. ‘Or at least their essential spiritual cores.’
‘And they are ready,’ Prince assured them, ‘to give the speeches of their lives.’
‘I don’t get it,’ said Wanda. ‘Madonna is an actress. The President kinda likes her, but what makes you think she’ll be welcome at the UN?’
‘Hey,’ said Clint. ‘Have you got something against actors?’
‘No,’ said Wanda. ‘I just thought—’
‘It will be fine,’ said Prince. ‘Madonna has passion and style, and even politicians will respect that.’
‘Especially when she’s there with the most powerful man on your planet,’ Eudora added.
‘And dishing out slices of Greenhouse Ginger Cheesecake!’ said Tark, getting into the swing of things.
The very instant that Eudora, Prince, and Myrtle blasted off for the Sacred Pool, the President and Madonna materialized into the real things, that is, persons.
The President brushed off flecks of something Tiger couldn’t see from his suit jacket and looked quickly from side to side. ‘No Secret Service guys,’ he said, with a smile. ‘Wish I could do this more often!’
‘But Mr President,’ Madonna cooed. ‘If we do this too often, tongues might wag!’
Why would humans want to imitate dogs? Tiger thought.
‘Just as well Michelle isn’t the jealous type,’ the President nodded, turning his attention to the Crew. ‘Hey, don’t I know you guys from somewhere?’
‘Yes,’ said Tark. ‘We plugged that nasty oil leak in the ocean off Florida, remember?’
‘Absolutely!’ said the President. ‘Project Earth-mend, right?’
‘You remembered!’ said Tiger.
‘Of course,’ said the President. ‘You saved our bacon, if you’ll pardon the expression. But I don’t remember any raccoons that day on the
beach. When did you sign them up?’
Rocky elbowed his way forward. ‘We just heard about The Great Danger, Mr President. Otherwise we would have been on the team ages ago!’
‘Yeah!’ shouted Clint and Arnie, giving him a High-Five. ‘Bring on the robots!’
‘The robots?’ hummed Madonna, as though she was making up a song on the fly. ‘Sounds like we’ve missed a verse or two!’
In swipes that reminded Tiger of a painter, Tark dashed off a series of holograph scenes with Mick and his Abell 2218s becoming more and more war-like.
‘Hmm,’ said the President through tightened lips. ‘I get the picture. So what do we do? Send in the Marines?’
‘Ooh,’ said Madonna. ‘I love it when you’re being... decisive, Barack!’
The President cocked his head at her. ‘Madonna Louise, are you trying to be Marilyn again? I’m always decisive!’
‘With all due respect to the Marines, Mr President,’ said Tark, ‘they wouldn’t stand a chance against the Abell fleet. We owe it to all life-forms on Earth to try to negotiate a peaceful settlement here.’
Rocky cleared his throat. ‘From what you’ve said, Tark, these robots have only one thing in mind – total destruction of the Earth.’
‘We’ve got to fight fire with fire!’ urged Clint. ‘Gunfight at the OK Corral, and all that!’
‘Name-dropper!’ Arnie snorted. ‘This is what happens from spending too much time on YouTube!’
‘Have we given up on a negotiated settlement?’ said Wanda. ‘If we can convince them that you humans are on the right track against climate change, then maybe—’
‘I hate to say it...’ said Number 12.
‘But you will anyway?’ said Wanda, annoyed by the interruption.
‘Yeah,’ said Number 12. ‘They’re robots, remember? Like Tark said, they have only two modes – attack and sleep, and Mick seems very much awake!’
Tark stepped forward. ‘And I can’t think of a single Inter-Galactic Treaty that the Abells have signed up to.’
Madonna bent down to Tark, tickling him under the chin. ‘Hey, I remember you, you cute froggie!’
Tiger Takes the Big Apple Page 12
