“It’s Morse code. ‘SOS . . . Stranded . . . Deep End . . . Rescue . . . Please . . .’ ”
“Say ‘marooned.’ It sounds better,” suggested Kosmo.
“ ‘SOS . . . Marooned . . .’ You’re right, that is better.”
“Unless you’re from Morgo!” Kosmo quickly added. “And if you are, don’t come any closer! Just turn yourself around. There’s nobody here, least of all two stray kids. You’re seeing things. So just head on back the way you came and get your eyes checked.”
“Slow down!” Lily’s trigger finger couldn’t keep up with Kosmo’s mouth. She lowered the pistol, and finally asked the question that had been eating at her ever since Gluck’s station: “Why are you so scared of the Mean-Man of Morgo?”
“Oy, you calling me yellow?”
“No.”
“Well-right I’m not!” Kosmo boasted, puffing his chest up. “I once fought off a horde of lizard lads with my own two fists! I flew a rocket down a star eel’s throat, just to find out what he ate for lunch. Kosmo Kidd fears no man, not even the Mean-Man of Morgo.” He paused, and his voice began to shake. “And he scares the bleeding daylights out of me!”
“But why?”
“Never mind!”
“I won’t tell a soul. I swear.”
“Solemnly swear?”
“Solemnly swear.”
“Cross your eyes, stub your toes, stick a spindle up your nose?”
This sounded a bit like an Earth rhyme Lily knew. She guessed it added up to the same thing, and recited:
“Cross my eyes, stub my toes, stick a spindle up my nose.”
“All right.” Kosmo took a deep breath. “His Meanness, that is, the Mean-Man of Morgo, he . . . Well, he . . .”
“He what?”
“He sp—” Something caught his eye before he could finish. “Rookie!” he whispered, pointing straight ahead. “I think you did kill that star after all.”
Indeed, where Lily’s winking star had been, now there was an empty spot between stars. Then the star next to it snuffed out too, and the one next to that, and so on. The blackness spread to form the outline of a fish, waving to and fro, swimming toward them.
“Blimey! Looks like something saw your signal, rookie!” said Kosmo. “And I reckon they don’t speak Morse code. Open fire!”
But Lily did not open fire, at least not soon enough for Kosmo. He made a grab for the pistol, knocking it out of her hand, and sending it spinning out of reach.
The fishy shadow grew, until it was as big as two crosstown buses stacked one on top of the other. In the middle of it was a bright spot—no, five bright spots, like a row of glowing eyes, staring down its prey.
Kosmo started kicking and scooping again, more frantically than before. And even though Lily knew it made no sense, because there was no air to push off from, she found her legs and arms kicking and scooping too. So now there were two tiny worms wriggling on invisible hooks.
As the shadow barreled toward them, its five bulging eyes blazed red. A mouth yawned open like a drawbridge. Lily stared past its spiny underbite, into its gaping, dungeonlike throat. . . .
WHOOOMM!!—the enormous mouth slammed shut around them, snuffing out every last star in the night sky.
CHAPTER 15
Molly-cules at Midnight
The aroma of grilled space varmints, cooked over a coffee can stove, still lingered in Fort Spacetronaut. The lights were out, except for golden starlight streaming in through the windows. The Spacetronauts were spread out on the floor, picking their teeth, and patting their bulging tummies.
Davy C. Rocket strummed his guitar and sang an old-time space lullaby. . . .
Oh, show me a place
Where the red rockets race,
And the stars sparkle brightly all day . . .
They all were all in agreement: It had been a jolly, jubilant—and 100 percent guilt-free—spaceman’s shindig, not one bit tarnished by thoughts of a recently banished comrade. Honest!
’Cause seldom you’ll find
Such a space to unwind
As the place where the Spacetronauts play.
Well, all right . . . Truth be told, as much as they all pretended to the contrary, not one Spacetronaut was feeling a bit jolly inside. The empty High Command Chair loomed in the center of the room. Its big white letter K reflected the starlight, with a ghostly glow.
Davy struck a sour note—there was that weird hum again, throwing off his pitch! It had been buzzing in and out of his ears all evening.
“Hey, Gernsy!” he whispered. “Did you remember to switch off the Tele-Whatchamacallit?” But Gernsback was already fast asleep, with his eyes rolling over and over behind his fluttering lashes.
Home, home in the stars . . .
Davy finally managed to sing himself to sleep. But his slumber was haunted by visions of his best mate, floating for the rest of his days among the endless stars.
• • •
Odds are you’ve never heard a fort full of snoring Spacetronauts, so imagine a forest of trees all being sawed down at once. Now try to imagine, in the middle of that racket, the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny toddler feet, in feety pajamas. That ought to give you some idea of why not one single Spacetronaut woke up when Alfie began exploring the fort and playing with things a two-year-old probably shouldn’t touch.
He stepped into a Spacetronaut onesie, with a big star stitched to the tummy. It was so big on him that the legs and sleeves dragged behind him. He put on a fishbowl space helmet, which kept slipping down nearly to his navel. Then the top-heavy toddler crawled onto Gernsback’s workbench, where he made a puppet show starring Colonel Shanks and a fully charged plasma pistol.
A glowing, humming spiral on the floor caught his eye. He decided that seemed like a much more exciting venue for his puppet show, so he slid off the bench, and tottered toward the spiral. . . .
Ssshhloop-POP!!!
There was a flash of light, like the entire galaxy was getting its picture taken. Every Spacetronaut in the fort sat up, rubbed his eyes, and seeing nothing out of place, went right on snoozing.
CHAPTER 16
A Fine Kettle of Fish
A low, babbling, churning sound came up through the floor. It might have been soothing, if Lily wasn’t busy wondering what it was going to feel like to be digested by a giant space piranha. Her helmet must have rolled off, because the smell of fish guts was making her eyes water. She felt her way around in the dark, through a bramble of giant bones, on a floor that felt awfully hard for a fish’s insides. In fact, it felt more like metal.
“Oy!” came a whisper out of the dark. “You there, rookie?”
“Hard to say,” she answered. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Do you reckon we’re dead?”
“No, if we were dead, our noses wouldn’t still work.”
“Aye, mine’s working overtime. Phleughh! Fancy me, Outer Outer Space’s number one Spacetronaut, demoted to fish food!”
“Well, we better find a way outta here quick, or we’re both gonna get demoted to number two.”
There was a chorus of high giggles.
A blast of colorful light filled the space. Shielding her eyes, Lily saw, standing over her and Kosmo, five girls in shimmery party dresses, pointing harpoons at them. Lily guessed they were around her age (or would have been if they were human). They wore silver sashes from their left shoulders to their right hips, and matching silver gloves. Their blue-green hair was tied in bouncy ponytails, with sea grass. Their ears and eyelashes were shaped like fish fins, and their faces were even more shimmery than their dresses, with fine scales that you could see when the light hit them just right.
Lily felt like she had stumbled into a sock hop on board a haunted submarine. A breezy doo-wop record crackled through a cockle shell speaker. Pink and turquoise glow-in-the-dark jellyfish hung like chandeliers, between rows of fish ribs. On the rusty walls hung trophies of past catches: gaping, sharklike jawbones with silver teet
h; a pickled, eighteen-tentacled Octodecopus in a jar; a pair of deadly Sycoraxian pulcher pincers . . .
There were two rows of glittery, vinyl-padded chairs bolted to the floor, facing a windshield made up of five big domes, or . . . eyes!—at least, that’s what they had looked like from the outside.
A girl stepped to the front of the pack, wearing a pearl-encrusted tiara, and chomping a piece of pink bubblegum.
“Well, well, ladies, what do we got here? A coupla worms?” She pronounced “worms” like “woyms,” like a girl from down Flatbush Avenue, not across the universe. She crouched over Lily and Kosmo. “Say, these worms is human! What are a coupla humans doin’ out here in the Deep End?”
“Um . . . ,” began Lily. “We’re a wee bit off course.”
The girls laughed.
“I’ll say!” laughed the girl in the tiara. She leaned in for a closer look. “Wait a sec . . . This bespectacled human looks kinda female.”
“I am female,” said Lily.
“ ’Zat so? Well, how do you like that!” said the girl in the tiara, helping Lily to her feet. “What do they call you?”
“Lily Lupino of Earth.”
“Earth? A jailbird, are you! I bet they make ’em pretty salty down there, huh?”
“I get by,” said Lily.
“Yeah, stick around. We’ll see about that. We’re the Piranha Sisters. I’m Donna, skipper of this rig, and that’s Juana, Lana, Shawna, and Shirl. We could use another pair o’ fins around here. Interested?”
“I don’t know. What do you guys do?” Lily asked.
“Oh, you know,” said Juana. “Float around, mostly. Shoot the breeze, listen to records . . .”
“Yeah, till something real big comes along, that is,” added Lana.
“Yeah,” said Shawna, “then we hunt that sucker down and—”
POP! Donna popped a big pink bubble. “. . . take a big, juicy bite out of it!” She grinned, gnashing her gum, and for a second, Lily thought she saw sharp points at the ends of Donna’s teeth. “So, Specs, you in?”
“Sorry, ladies,” said Kosmo, climbing to his feet. “But we really oughta be—”
“Sure, why not!” said Lily. Kosmo gaped at her.
The sisters cheered. Shirl handed Lily a silver sash. “That’s Altairian Mirror Shark skin, Specs,” said Shirl. “Deadliest fish in the Deep End.”
“Second deadliest!” shouted Shawna, boastfully.
“You never see ’em coming, just your own reflection,” said Shirl. “And then it’s too late. That big ol’ mouth opens wide and WHAMMO! You’re fish food.”
“Sharp, ain’t it?” asked Donna. It sure was! It was the shiniest thing Lily had ever laid eyes on. She slipped the sash over her left shoulder, and across her right hip.
“Welcome aboard, Specs!” said Donna.
“Rookie?” whispered Kosmo.
“Oh yeah!” said Donna. “I almost forgot about boy-worm here. He looks kinda familiar, doesn’t he? What do they call you, boy-worm?”
“They call me Kidd. Kosmo Kidd.”
“Ha! Sure,” quipped Shawna. “And I’m Davy C. Rocket. My marmot-top’s at the cleaners!” The whole crew laughed, except for Shirl. She walked over to a locker on the wall, and opened it. The inside was decorated with Outer Outer Space memorabilia (including a fair amount dedicated to the Spacetronauts). She peeled down a wanted poster, handed it to Donna, and whispered in her ear.
“Hot dog!” Donna squealed, flapping her ear-fins. “It really is Kosmo Kidd! Gee whiz, what a catch.”
“Ladies,” said Kosmo, tipping his cap, “always nice to meet a few fans!”
“So, sailor,” Shawna cooed, “what’s a galaxy-hopping gallant like yourself doing out in these lonesome shoals, anyway?”
“Yeah, don’t that beat all!” squeaked Juana, shoving Shawna aside. “Outer Outer Space’s primo bachelor, right here. Why, I could just go belly up!”
“Fins off, ladies!” ordered Donna, and they scattered like a school of fish. “The Spacetronaut is spoken for. Now step aside so I can pin this here paramour.”
“P-p-pin me?!”
“You heard me! You and me, we’re gonna be steadies.” Shirl tossed Donna a clamshell brooch. Donna unhooked the pin on the back.
“Steadies? Sorry, love. Not looking to settle down, me. In fact, the rookie and me were just leaving. Right, rookie?”
But Lily didn’t hear him. She was busy noticing how her new mirror sash changed color depending on where she stood.
“Aw, how cute!” said Donna. “Little spaceman thinks he’s got a choice. Ladies, shall we educate him on how things work out here in the Deep End?”
“You catch it, you keep it,” recited Juana.
“You catch it, you keep it,” echoed the others.
“Lana, play something romantic while I do the honors,” Donna ordered.
Lana switched the record. Syrupy strings crackled from the cockle. Donna backed Kosmo flat against the wall.
“Rookie!” Kosmo called out.
But Lily didn’t hear him. She was busy admiring the control panel of the ship. It had a sonar screen, a mother-of-pearl dashboard . . . And what was that joystick made of? Some kind of carved bone?
“Oh, come on,” said Donna. “This ol’ bucket could really use a man’s touch.”
“Yeah,” said Shirl. “This deck could use a good swabbing.”
“And these dresses ain’t gonna press themselves,” added Juana.
“How are you in the kitchen?” asked Lana. “You better shuck those prawns good.”
“And don’t forget the eyes,” added Shawna. “Ooo, I can’t stand those beady little eyes!”
“And if it gets cold,” said Donna, leaning in so close that Kosmo felt the breeze of her batting eyelashes, “maybe you and me can even hold fins.”
Kosmo tried to make a dash for it.
“Hold him, ladies!” Donna commanded. “This worm’s got some wiggle in him.” The crew held him steady, as Donna brought the brooch close.
“LILY LUPINO!” cried Kosmo.
It was the first time Lily heard her full name from Kosmo’s mouth. She turned, just as Donna was about to puncture the breast of Kosmo’s tunic.
“Let go of that Spacetronaut!” said Lily.
The needle scratched across the record. (Why? No one bumped it. But it suited the moment, so nobody looked into it.) Everyone looked at Lily, who suddenly felt a little timid.
“So, uh,” she said. “Maybe it’s time for the boy-worm and me to, you know, hit the road.”
“What gives, Specs?” asked Donna. “Are you a Piranha Sister, or ain’t ya?”
Lily took off the mirror sash, folded it neatly, and laid it on the dashboard.
“I see,” said Donna. “But I’m still skipper around here, see? And I’ll pin who I wanna.”
“Pin yourself. He said no, didn’t he?”
“So?” said Donna. “What are you gonna do about it, fish bait?”
“Come over here and find out,” said Lily, hoping she sounded tougher than she felt.
“Oooo!” said the sisters.
“Why should I?” asked Donna.
The only answer Lily could think of was that she’d heard it on Trip Darrow, like the time the chieftain of the Ice Lords threatened to marry Deirdre against her will, so Trip challenged him to a wrestling match for her hand. Or when the captain of the Laser Pirates of Praxxa tried to make Deirdre his bride, so Trip challenged him to a shooting contest for her hand. Or when the Rat King of Rodentia was going to marry Deirdre, unless Trip could beat him in a footrace (which wasn’t really fair, pitting Trip’s two feet against the Rat King’s four, but Trip won anyway). Such contests of valor happened so often in space, Lily figured it must be some kind of rule.
“You really expect me, Donna Piranha, skipper of the Piranha Sisters, to scrap with some wormy fleck of flotsam?”
“Expect you to?” said Lily. “No, I dare you to.”
Donna blew a giant
pink bubble. . . .
CHAPTER 17
Duel in the Deep End
POP! Donna’s bubblegum burst, and she gnashed it in her teeth. “All right, Specs. You want a taste? You got it!”
The Piranha Sisters cheered, and flapped their ear-fins. It had been a long time since their last duel. They just needed to decide what form this duel would take.
“Dorsal sparring!” shouted Lana.
“Bah, kid stuff!” sneered Shawna. “How about a good gill-grappling match?” The sisters kept shouting out ideas, but each one had to be ruled out, because Lily didn’t have the right anatomy.
Finally Lily managed to entice them all with an ancient mode of Earth combat that hadn’t yet found its way to this corner of space. . . .
• • •
After Lily had explained the rules, a space was cleared, the spectators circled round, and the two combatants took their places, face-to-face. They decided Juana should preside over the match.
“All right, ladies,” said Juana, “you both know the rules. The count is three, protect yourselves at all times, and let’s keep it clean. Now, bring ’em together. . . .”
Lily reached out her hand.
Donna took off her glove and clasped Lily’s hand, leaving both of their thumbs free and upright. Donna’s thumb looked almost human, except for the fine scales, and a shiny blue-green thumbnail. Her thumb certainly had the height advantage, but she was going to need it, against Lily’s strength and experience.
“Four, three, two, one . . . ,” recited Juana, “I declare this war begun!”
Both thumbs held still, waiting for the other to make the first move. . . .
Lily broke the stillness with a small nod of the distal phalange, and soon both thumbs were dipping and curling around each other, like two cobras daring each other to strike.
Lily swept low, grazing Donna’s thumb across the proximal phalange. Donna took the bait, slamming her thumb down toward Lily’s.
But this was just the move Lily was counting on. She ducked to the left, whipped back around, and pinned Donna just above the knuckle.
Lily & Kosmo in Outer Outer Space Page 5
