“One!” counted Juana, as Donna writhed to free herself. “Two!”
But Lily’s move was as clumsy as it was fast, and the full force of her grip wasn’t centered. The slickness of Donna’s fine scaly thumb didn’t help either. Donna’s thumb slipped free just before the count of three, and retreated, crushed but not beaten.
Then Donna’s thumb lunged, so quick and furious that it caught Lily off guard. It hooked Lily’s thumb, tackling it into the crook of her own folded index finger. Lily yanked and jerked, but couldn’t escape the force of Donna’s grip. Donna smiled with the corner of her mouth, and this time Lily was sure she saw sharp points at the ends of her teeth.
“One!” called Juana.
Lily bent at the middle knuckle, and pressed the tip of her thumb hard against her own hand. This gave her just enough leverage to shift the angle of Donna’s grip. . . .
“Two!”
Lily’s thumb rolled clear, and Donna’s thumb snapped down with full force. And before it could get up again, Lily’s thumb had already swirled back around, and hammered back down upon Donna’s, clamping it squarely below the middle knuckle.
“One!” called Juana. “Two!”
Try as Donna did to free herself, she and Lily both knew the count was a pure technicality.
“Three!”
Lily and Donna let go of each other’s hand. Donna stared in awe at her throbbing, defeated thumb.
Lily looked at Kosmo. Was that admiration she saw in his eyes? Or gratitude, even? Or was it just plain relief, for the bachelorhood that was nearly stolen by a fish maiden of the deep?
“What can I say?” said the skipper. “When you’re licked, you’re licked. You want this Spacetronaut, Specs? He’s all yours.” She raised Lily’s hand in the air, and the sisters applauded.
“You’re one salty dog, Specs. You sure you can’t stick around?”
“No, I got too much space to see,” said Lily.
“Suit yourself.” She tossed Lily the mirror sash. “Here, keep it. We’ll save you a seat.”
Lily put on the sash.
“Shirl, set a course for Gorgon’s Wharf,” said Donna. “We’ll drop these two off, and maybe even squeeze in a little shore leave, whadda ya say?”
The whole crew cheered.
But before Shirl could punch the coordinates into the dashboard—POING!! POING!!—a red blip appeared on the sonar screen, big and rectangular, with a fin on its back.
“Belay that!” Donna slid into her seat at the front, and took the helm. “Strap in, gang!” The sisters strapped themselves into their seats, and Lily and Kosmo strapped into the back row.
“What is that?” asked Lily.
“Beats me!” cried Donna. “I’ve never seen such a whopper!” Her pupils widened, black and shiny, until there weren’t any whites left in her eyes. Her mouth spread into a hungry smile, showing off her needle-sharp teeth. The rest of the crew squealed in delight, flapping their ears and bouncing in their seats. Their eyes all went black, and they bared their fangs.
Their prey appeared in the windshield, a far-off spark zipping between the coral asteroids. Donna throttled forward, and the spark grew closer. Lily saw the afterburners of an enormous gray spaceship, like a floating cinderblock with a fin on its back. She had seen a glimpse of something just like it, back at Gluck’s station. And from the terror in Kosmo’s eyes, she knew Kosmo saw it too.
“Turn back!” Lily shouted. “That’s no fish!” But her voice was lost in the scream of the engine.
The sea green vapors and coral asteroids fell away, as the ship sailed right out of the Deep End into bare, open space. That was enough to scare even the Piranha Sisters, fangs and all, except for Donna, driving them onward after their prey.
A blood-red fog rose in the windshield, and the gray ship dived straight down into it.
If Lily didn’t warn Donna, the skipper was going to steer them all straight into the clutches of Morgo. Lily had hollered herself hoarse, but the engine drowned her out. So she had no choice but to climb to the front seat and shake some sense into the skipper. She unbuckled her belt, but at that very moment, Donna throttled forward, sending the ship into a nosedive, and sending Lily into a backward somersault, through a swarm of weightless fish bones, and thudding against the back wall of the ship.
Kosmo unfastened his seat belt, and tumbled after Lily. They found their space helmets bobbing in midair among the bones, put them on, and began scrambling for an exit. Any exit.
Lily spotted a circular hatch in the floor, with a big red button next to it, and some alien writing. She shrugged. Kosmo shrugged. Red fog filled the windshield. Lily slapped the button.
The hatch opened like an iris. The vacuum of space reached in, groping around for anything that wasn’t strapped in or bolted down. It grabbed Lily and Kosmo by their ankles, and yanked them out into the gusting red fog.
They slid along the piranha ship’s rusty underbelly, barely dodged the blazing afterburners and the swaying steel tail fin. . . .
Well, one of them did, anyway. Kosmo wasn’t so lucky. The tail fin swatted him on the backside, and sent him spinning like a top, out of the nebula.
The red fog swallowed Lily, cutting her off from the stars, and from Kosmo. Scarlet clouds wound around her, and would have surely hissed and howled like dragons, if they had the lungs for it.
Then her helmet rattled with a familiar, impossibly low foghorn, and a chorus of foghorns brayed in answer. From every direction, giant gray rectangular forms peeked out of the fog, and cast their cold searchlights through the vapor. Just when Lily was sure she had been spotted, there was a flare of flame deeper in the nebula. It was the Piranha Sisters’ ship, flaring its afterburners as it rocketed ahead after its prey. The gray ships all banked, and thundered off after Donna, Lana, Shawna, Juana, and Shirl.
Lily caught herself, for just a second, feeling more than a little relieved. She felt ashamed of the feeling, but before she could properly scold herself, one of the gray ships pulled to a stop, swung its searchlight around, and captured Lily in its cold gaze.
“Rats.” Lily groaned, as the ship turned and thundered toward her.
CHAPTER 18
Comet Hoppin’
“Rats.” Kosmo groaned, bobbing over the Murky Way, watching helplessly as the Morgo Space Trawler caught Lily in its Capture Beam, slurped her up, and roared off, leaving a curling red wake in the fog. And it was easy to guess where it was headed: straight to the heart of the Murky Way, to the Tower of Morgo, a place Kosmo Kidd had done a fine job of finding excuses not to visit for quite some time. As the Trawler’s afterburners shrank to a twinkle, Kosmo was gripped by an unfamiliar sensation: loneliness.
He tried whistling a few bars of a new Kosmo Kidd theme song he was working on, but the echo inside his helmet only made him feel more alone. If ever Kosmo Kidd, Spacetronaut, came near to facing the truth of his own helplessness, this would have been that moment—would have been, if it were not for a passing comet, summoning a very useful memory into his brain. . . .
COMET HOPPIN’:
A Handy How-To
by Davy C. Rocket
Welcome, pard’ner, to the age-old art o’ comet hoppin’, a handy and happifyin’ mode of cosmic conveyance. Heed these three easy steps, and you’ll be ridin’ the Star Tail Express faster’n you can say “fuzzy buzzard britches.”
1. First and foremost is gittin’ its attention. Comets bein’ a most prideful bunch, it’s as simple as flingin’ a few choice barbs in its direction. Hit below the belt if ya gotta. And if all else fails, remember: Nothin’ riles up a comet like disparagin’ its dear ma.
2. Just as soon as you see it pivot and start a-chargin’ at ya, hunker down, hoist one hand skyward, like as if to pluck an apple off a lofty limb.
3. Just when that comet’s fixin’ to plow on through ya like a toro in Toledo, feint right, and grip it by the tail. Not too high, mind, or your hand’ll burn up redder’n a cad’s keester on paddlin’ day!
>
Kosmo giggled. Davy was always good for a laugh, like the time he said Pando’s ambrosia salad tasted like it came out of a goose that had eaten some marshmallows and fruit. This was probably because Davy was steamed that Pando had put grapes in the ambrosia salad; Davy—it is well-known—does not care for grapes in his ambrosia salad!
And this reminded Kosmo of the time Pando stuck grape chewing gum in Gernsback’s brain, making Gernsback talk with a stutter for two weeks.
And by the time Kosmo remembered that this probably wasn’t the best time to be remembering things, the comet had nearly passed him by.
So, just as Davy instructed, Kosmo shouted out the first insult that popped into his head:
“Oy! Sparkle-Pants!”
The comet took no notice.
“I’m talking to you, Twinkle-Toes!”
But still the comet stayed its course.
“What’s the matter, Shiny, your mother forget to . . . um . . .” Kosmo couldn’t think of how to end this barb.
But it didn’t matter, because the mere mention of the comet’s mother had done the trick. It skidded to a sparking halt, reared to face Kosmo, and charged.
Kosmo raised his hand high above him. As the comet got closer, it suddenly occurred to Kosmo that he didn’t know where in Outer Outer Space he wanted the comet to take him, once he caught it.
Planet Christmas is lovely this time of year, he thought.
But, ever the steadfast hero of the stars, he decided, he must brave the perils of Morgo, and go after Lily.
Or, thought Kosmo, I could find a nice eatery somewhere. I could use a bite.
But, ever the steadfast hero of the stars, he decided he must brave the perils of—
Or maybe stop by Gorgon’s Wharf. A little R&R seems in order.
BUT! Ever the steadfast hero of the stars—
“Fine!” sulked Kosmo. “Bleedin’ Morgo it is, then!” His bones went cold at the thought, even as the flaming comet barreled straight at his head. He feinted right, just like Davy said to do. Then he reached into its blinding light, groping for anything that might be a tail. . . .
CHAPTER 19
To Morgo
Morgo Space Trawlers don’t have windows. If they did, this is what the captive Lily would have seen as she neared her unhappy destination:
Countless Trawlers streamed like arteries into the cold core of the nebula, where the red vapors converged in a curling crimson precipice, like a petrified tidal wave. Perched atop the curl, the Tower of Morgo scanned the galaxy with a cold beam of light from its scowling penthouse window. And wherever that cruel gaze fell, in whatever merry corner of Outer Outer Space, a momentary chill would seize even the happiest heart.
Lily saw none of this, bobbing in weightless darkness for the entire trip. She didn’t know if there was air inside the Trawler or not, so she kept her helmet on, just in case. Then, somebody must have suddenly switched on the gravity, because she fell with a plop onto the Trawler’s cold cement floor. A gate blazed open, hot and white, and before her eyes could adjust . . .
Oobly-Eye, Oobly-Oo . . .
. . . a kid-size butterfly net swished over her, pinning her arms to her sides.
Snare ’em, hook ’em!
Charge and book ’em!
Standing outside the Trawler were two Morgonites, like the ones she’d hidden from back at Gluck’s Gas-’Em-Up. Here, now, in the cold light of Morgo, she got her first good, clear look at the Morgonites: their tall red helmets, their squeaky red gloves up to their elbows, the billowing gray cloaks that wrapped around their whole bodies, and their long, gray, bored faces. One held the long handle attached to the net, and the other carried that same weird red baton as before, with a trumpet at one end.
“For the crime of juvenility in the first degree,” said the one holding the net, “within the jurisdiction of His Meanness, the Mean-Man of Morgo, you shall forthwith be delivered to His Meanness for immediate and irreversible Dejuvenation™.”
“What does ‘Dejuvenation™’ mean?” asked Lily, always eager to add a new word to her vocabulary.
“Silence, vermin!” barked the other Morgonite. He aimed his baton at Lily, and pressed a button. The trumpet let out a sound like a goose burping backward underwater, and she felt a thump against her tummy. A wave of pins and needles zinged through her whole body, her knees buckled, and she toppled over.
The Morgonite holding the net slid her out of the ship, and they dragged Lily through a bright hangar, past countless spaceships parked in neat rows. There were gargantuan Space Trawlers, flat-bottomed Scows, and squat little Star Skiffs, all made of cement, all looking like they had been carefully designed to take all the fun out of space travel.
They rounded a corner into a wide hallway, busy with Morgonites, all waddling with bored purpose. Through the gray cement sameness of it all, another kind of sameness struck Lily: RED. It wasn’t that there was a lot of it—there wasn’t. It was that there was absolutely none of any other color in Morgo. No blue jay blue, no Granny Smith green, no cerulean, no nothing but fire engine red to break up the endless gray.
Another pair of Morgonites marched past in the other direction, dragging another netted kid along the floor.
“Hey!” called Lily.
“Silence, vermin!” shouted the Morgonites, and in seconds, the kid was out of sight.
The Morgonite pair dragged Lily into a massive lobby full of elevators. There must have been hundreds of them, with doors hissing open and shut, and Morgonites coming and going. They dragged her into one of them, and the doors hissed shut behind them.
One of the Morgonites tapped a control panel. A staticky screen popped up, projected in midair. A dour blue face appeared, scowling through cat-eye glasses.
“Madam,” said the net-holding Morgonite. “Another specimen for His Meanness, found floating in the Murky Way.” The eyes glanced down at Lily, and a reedy voice answered through a crackly speaker:
“Fine. Bring it on up.”
DING! The elevator car rocketed upward, and Lily’s heart sank into her stomach. Then with a jerk, it shot sideways, sending her sliding across the floor, and slamming into the wall. It changed direction several more times on its swift climb through the tower, and Lily slid and bumped like a hockey puck against the walls. Somehow, the Morgonites remained with their feet firmly planted.
CHAPTER 20
What “Dejuvination™” Means
DING! The car stopped so suddenly that Lily flew off the floor, and the net was the only thing that kept her from hitting the top. She landed with a thud. The Morgonites removed the net and lifted her onto her feet. Her legs wobbled as the last of the pins and needles drained out of her. The doors hissed open, the Morgonites shoved Lily out, and the doors hissed closed behind her.
She was in a long, narrow waiting area. On two long benches facing each other was a gathering of slouching, sneering, scuff-kneed, flipped-up-collar, juvenile space riff-raff. Back in Brooklyn, Earth, Lily had managed to go her whole life without getting sent to the principal’s office. Now, here she was, her first time in space, and she was already waiting on the bad boys’ bench. At the far end was a big red door marked: DEJUVENATION™.
“What does Dejuvenation™ mean?” she asked, but the boys just stared at her.
“Get a load o’ the guy in the dress!” hooted a boy in a striped T-shirt, chomping on a licorice cigar. This got a big laugh.
“I ain’t a guy in a dress. I’m a girl with astronaut hair.” This got an even bigger laugh.
“Astronaut, huh?” chided a boy with the shell of a popcorn kernel lodged in his buck teeth. “Where’d you get that goofy helmet, astronaut?” Helmet? Oh yeah! She had gotten so used to it, that she forgot she had it on.
“Fort Spacetronaut,” Lily answered, taking it off. The boys grumbled, unconvinced.
“Can it, ya goons,” said a slick ruffian with one black eye, a black bomber jacket, and a toothpick in his teeth. They all quieted right down. “Lemme see th
at, kid.” Lily handed the ruffian the helmet, and he looked it over. “This here’s the genuine article. Kid, you really been to Fort Spacetronaut? No foolin’?”
“Cross my eyes, stub my toes, stick a spindle up my nose,” said Lily.
“Hot dawg!” cried the ruffian. “A full-fledged Spacetronaut! So, what’d they pinch you for?”
“Just bein’ a kid, I guess. You?”
“Yeah, just bein’ a kid too, I guess.” Then he added, “Plus sayin’ curses. And scrappin’. And stealin’ chocolate bars. And hoppin’ fences. And talkin’ with my mouth full . . .” The list went on and on, until he either reached the end of his rap sheet, or got sick of talking about it. “Can I try ’er on?”
“Go ahead,” said Lily.
The ruffian put on the helmet, and checked his reflection in Lily’s mirror sash. “Radioactive! Get a load o’ me, fellas, I’m a genuine Spacetronaut!” The boys laughed as the ruffian pretended to float around the room, making space breathing sounds. “It’ll take a lot more than some Dejuvy-whatever to poop this party, dig?”
But in his spaced-out bliss, the ruffian missed the hiss of the Big Red Door and the squeak of high white boots striding in through a cloud of red smoke. Every smile in the room wilted, as the ruffian ran straight into a woman in a crisp gray uniform. She had ice-blue skin, cat-eye glasses, and silver hair pulled into a bun so tight that it seemed to be stretching her face across her skull.
“Who’s the blue lady?” Lily whispered, recognizing her eyes from the screen in the elevator.
“Miss Meniscus,” whispered one of the boys, shuddering. “Secretary to you-know-who.”
With a white-gloved hand, Miss Meniscus swatted the helmet off the Ruffian’s head, and with the other she took him by the ear.
“Radioactive!” shouted the ruffian, as he was dragged into the curling smoke. The door hissed shut.
Lily & Kosmo in Outer Outer Space Page 6
