Holly Farb and the Princess of the Galaxy

by Gareth Wronski

  Holly sat in silence as the Gadabout passed the mammoth alien, putting the field of game pieces safely behind them. The ship’s engines roared to life and they continued back to the Galactic Hub. As they flew in silence, Holly thought about herself and her place in the universe. She gazed out the window at the cosmic sea of black, thinking about Jalya and the pirates, feeling a whole lot less than nothing.

  * * *

  Back at the F.O.U.P.S.P.O. I.G.C.G.G., the golden halls felt a bit less glittering than they had the last time Holly had been there. She trudged through the winding corridors with Mr. Mendez and Toshiro at her side. AsTRO shuffled along behind them like a whirring robotic shadow.

  A golden door flew open and Koro skidded out. “Ah, Princess!” he squealed, bowing so low, his face flattened against the floor. “It is wonderful to see you again. You look very charming and well fed.”

  Holly stared at him, feeling a pang of sadness at the mention of the Princess. “Thanks.”

  The little alien straightened up. “How may I be of assistance to you?”

  “I need to speak to the President.”

  Koro hesitated. His eyes shifted. “Ah. Well, Your Highness, I’m afraid the powerful, provocative President of the Universe is currently in a meeting.”

  Holly crossed her arms. She had come too far to wait for some meeting to end. “I brought his book,” she said, holding up the tattered copy of Arkanian Warfare Strategies.

  Toshiro cracked his knuckles. “Tell him to see us or we’ll dust it.”

  Koro did a little hop. “Yes, of course. I will tell him immediately! One of my clones will bring you to the waiting area.” He scurried back through the gold door, slamming it behind him.

  Moments later the door opened and Koro returned—or, thought Holly, probably one of his clones did.

  “Greetings,” said this version of Koro, “we have not met, Your Highness, but the other iterations of Koro told me much about your charisma, shoes, and significant earlobes.”

  Holly stared at him. “Thanks.”

  “I am the seventeenth iteration of Koro in this cycle,” he explained as they continued on through the Galactic Hub. “It is a great honor to be your guide and companion and”—he paused—“friend?”

  “You’re practically family,” said Toshiro.

  “What happened to the other Koros?” said Holly. “I mean, uh, what happened to the other . . . iterations?”

  “Oh,” said Koro 17 cheerfully, “they no longer exist. While cloning technology has advanced considerably since the great Hurgle Migration, it is still in its infancy. We only last twenty-four hours before we die.”

  Holly frowned. She suddenly felt sorry for the little alien. She couldn’t imagine having only one day to live—or what she would do in that time. “That’s terrible.”

  Koro 17 smiled warmly at her. “Please do not pity me. In the grand view of the universe, my end will be as insignificant as my beginning. Even though I only have seven hours remaining before my brain melts, I do not fear death. I have lived my life with maximum purpose and meaning. Not a single second of my existence has been wasted. I consider it a great honor to have met you before my brain melts. Very few iterations of Koro can say the same.”

  Holly hesitated, then patted Koro 17 on the shoulder. “It was nice to meet you too, Koro.” She paused. “Uh, Koro Iteration 17.”

  Koro 17 grinned like this was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. Instead of making Holly feel good, it caused a jab of sadness to stab at her. She wasn’t a real princess—she was a liar. And why couldn’t she have said something nice to Jalya? Instead she had been rude. She had been . . . uncouth. Holly had heard her mother use that word once, and she was pretty sure that’s what she had been.

  Her heels dragged on the gold floors. When the group reached the large doors to the President’s chamber, Koro and two other Koro clones were waiting.

  “Greetings again, Princess,” said Koro, bowing. “I am Koro, in case you are confused—despite your intellect, strong ankles, and very curly hair.”

  One of the other Koros bowed. “I am the nineteenth iteration of Koro. It is an honor to meet you.”

  The third Koro bowed. “I am the tenth iteration of Koro. It is an—” His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor, turning into a pool of green liquid.

  Holly gasped.

  “Ah,” said Koro, motioning to his clones, who quickly disappeared into a nearby supply closet and returned with mops. “What unfortunate timing for him to melt. We must clean this mess before anyone slips.” Koro looked at Holly. “You may see the President now.” His eyes flicked over Mr. Mendez and Toshiro. “But only you. The President will only see one person.”

  Holly crossed her arms. “Why?”

  Koro bowed, his face splashing in the puddle of his dead clone. “That is the wish of the President of the Universe, Your Highness. I do not dare ask questions of His All-Knowing and All-Seeing Lordship Who Governs This Universe and All Life Within It, Sponsored by Snack-’Em Cubes.”

  “Fine,” said Holly, “I’ll see him myself.”

  Mr. Mendez frowned. “Are you sure, Ms. Farb?”

  “I can handle it.”

  The huge doors swung open and Holly entered, leaving Mr. Mendez and Toshiro standing outside. As the doors closed behind her, she glanced over her shoulder and caught one final glimpse of Koro and his identical clones mopping up the puddle.

  They all looked perfectly content.

  * * *

  “Welcome back, Princess.”

  Holly stood before the stool upon which the little pink squirrel thing sat. His beady eyes blinked. His voice was surprisingly deep, and he could speak English quite well.

  “How come you don’t need Koro to translate?” she asked.

  The President shrugged. “I can speak every language in the universe. I just like to have a translator to make my visitors uncomfortable.” His bushy tail twitched. “Now, do you have the book?”

  “Yes.” Holly held up Arkanian Warfare Strategies, then put it behind her back. “But if you want it, you have to make good on your promise.”

  The President blinked. “What was my promise again? I make many promises.”

  “You said you would send the Armada to destroy the pirates.”

  There was a long pause. Holly felt incredibly uncomfortable, like she was being forced to give the world’s worst presentation for a class she had never been to and knew nothing about. Finally the President squealed out a shrill laugh.

  “Oh,” he said, “there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t actually care about the pirates, or you. I wanted the book because it will finally let me accomplish something no one else has ever done—beat the Duke of Beggal IV at a game of Arkanian Warfare. Every time we play, he rushes my pylons and steals all my ore mines, but not this time. Thank you for helping me win a hundred credits and a box of Vex Ale.”

  Holly stared. She opened her mouth to speak, but a wave of anger washed over her and drowned the words. “You . . . you mean . . .”

  The squirrel thing blinked.

  “We risked our lives to get this book!” said Holly, her voice ringing with rage. She was nearly shouting, and for once in her life, she didn’t care about Indoor Voices. “We got captured because of this book! Jalya is still captured because of this book! This is all your fault. And you don’t care? Well, you’d better start caring. The whole point of a president is to care! You’d better send that armada or . . . or I’ll go to the press. It’ll be a scandal. Bookgate. Princessgate. Help me defeat the pirates or this’ll be the end of you.”

  The squirrel thing blinked.

  Finally he spoke. “You seem to have a few misconceptions, kid. I am a wildly popular elected official who isn’t facing reelection for seven cycles. My current approval rating is ninety-six percent—even higher if you exclude young voters. Space travel? I made it free. Spice? I made it flow. Wars? I only fight the good ones. I am the President of the Universe.
Do you know how big the universe is? Do you know how many things are in it? The slugs who live on the moon of Gupbub XI alone account for more people than have ever, or will ever, exist in your galaxy. I am the most popular and successful politician in the history of space-time, and you think I care about you? You think I care about scandals? I have scandals every day! I accidentally blew up a planet yesterday. Does anyone care? Of course not. First off, they all got blown up. Who’s left to care? The neighbors on a planet so far away they never even knew the other planet existed? Oh no, what a scandal. How ever will I survive?”

  Holly glared. She wanted to run and smack him in his little rat face. She wanted to . . . she wanted to do something.

  “I’m . . . I’m a princess!” she said, the words ringing hollow in her ears. “I’m . . . important.”

  The President tittered. “You’re a very silly person, Princess. Why don’t you go back to Quartle and invent some pointless thing which will have rusted by the time I’m serving my three hundred fourty-eighth term? The idea that I would send my Armada to defeat the pirates . . . why, that’s the most laughable thing I’ve heard since this morning’s political holotoons in the Galactic Gazette. I use the Armada for self-gain and to bother the Duke of Beggal IV. Why do I care about pirates? They create instability, which is good for me. I get to solve problems, which impresses voters. I look presidential. Do you know how hard it is to look presidential when you’re a small pink rodent that eats its own excrement? It’s pretty hard.”

  Holly’s fingers dug into the book. Her knuckles seared. “So that’s it? You aren’t going to help at all?”

  The President scratched his head. “No. I’m sorry, but I have a busy day of taxing kindergartens on Yachaton X and removing the ticks from my fur. But don’t think I won’t help you at all. I’ll tell Koro to get you a ticket back home.” His beady eyes narrowed. “Economy class. We’re not made of money around here.”

  The President hopped off the stool and landed on the golden floor, his little clawed feet scurrying away. He disappeared into a hole in the wall.

  Holly surged with rage. “You forgot your book!” she shouted, throwing it with all her might at the hole. It hit the wall and thumped against the floor.

  Her whole body heaved. She had never been angrier in her entire life. Not when she had been picked on at school, not when she had lost the student election with zero votes, not even when Jake Carlson had put gum in her hair right after she had lost the student election with zero votes.

  She had always been taught authority figures cared about you. That they had your best interest at heart. But this one . . . this one was beyond uncouth. She was starting to feel like the whole universe was uncouth.

  Holly stormed out of the room and slammed the heavy door behind her. She marched past Mr. Mendez and Toshiro, through the gaggle of Koros, and paced along the gold corridors until she was back at the entrance to the F.O.U.P.S.P.O. I.G.C.G.G.

  A Koro clone was waiting for her. “Greetings, Your Highness,” he said, bowing deeply. He straightened up and handed her a ticket. “I have been instructed to give this to you. Have a wonderful space flight!” He hurried away.

  Holly sat down on the golden steps outside the massive Galactic Hub. Her shoulder slumped in perfectly imperfect posture. Mr. Mendez and Toshiro came jogging up, AsTRO bumbling along behind them.

  Mr. Mendez knelt beside her. “Is everything all right, Ms. Farb? You seem more stressed out than I’ve ever seen you before.”

  Toshiro forced a smile. “Reckoned by your fast walkin’ that your meeting went south.”

  Holly sighed. “The President isn’t going to help us. He doesn’t care at all. He doesn’t care about the pirates, or Jalya. He doesn’t care about anything. He gave me a ticket home and told me to get lost. . . . All I can do is go home.”

  Toshiro put his hands on his hips. “You don’t need a ticket. I can take you back.”

  “Thanks,” Holly muttered. She pulled the rubber Earth ball out from her pocket and gave it a squeeze. But it didn’t relieve any stress. It just reminded her of it.

  Mr. Mendez awkwardly sat on the step next to her. “You know, Ms. Farb, things may not have gone the way you wanted, but don’t lose hope. You still have many adventures awaiting you on Earth. Don’t you want to go back to school? You can have all sorts of wonderful, formative experiences with your friends.”

  Holly stared at the Earth ball in her hands. She thought about her school, and all the people there. All the people who hated her. Some friends. Then she thought about Jalya, alone with the pirates, probably scared, probably feeling abandoned. Probably wondering what happened to her friends. Sitting there, expecting the Armada to roll in and save the day. Well, thought Holly, gritting her teeth, if the President won’t help, someone else will have to.

  “My friend isn’t on Earth,” she muttered.

  Mr. Mendez blinked. “I’m . . . sorry?”

  Holly stood up. “I don’t have any friends to see on Earth.” She pointed at Toshiro. “If you don’t mind, I may need you to take me somewhere after all, please.”

  Toshiro smiled. “Where?”

  Holly inhaled, and slid the Earth ball back in her pocket. “We’re going to Quaffle.”

  * * *

  On the medium-size planet of Quartle, a large-size fleet of pirate ships was docked. The Pirate Lord passed through the hall of the old palace, the Princess of the Galaxy at its side. Jalya shuffled along, eyes cast down at the dirty floor.

  “You won’t get away with this,” she said, although she wasn’t entirely sure what the Pirate Lord was trying to get away with.

  The Pirate Lord nodded. “Fortunately,” it said, “I think you’ll find I already have gotten away with it. Now that I have you.”

  They walked through the throne room. Jalya’s feet slid heavily along the stone floor. As they descended to the basement of the palace, the heat swelled. Steam hissed overhead. Jalya’s shoulders slouched. She had never been to this level before—her father had forbidden it.

  “I think you’ll be quite happy with what I’m doing for our empire,” said the Pirate Lord, its metal feet clanging on the stone. “Our father worked hard to build the Forge, and no doubt he would be pleased to see his work finished, if I hadn’t strangled him, of course.”

  Jalya said nothing. She kept her eyes ahead.

  “No doubt you’re wondering,” continued the robot, “ ‘What clever bit of science did he use to fix the Forge that our father couldn’t figure out?’ Good question!” It chuckled. “I used brains from the Algathor insects that run the Intergalactic Archives. It turned out to be the missing ingredient necessary to make the machine work. Brain batteries! Taken out of their young, using sophisticated medical science and a big saw! And all the librarians wanted in return was a bit of food now and then. Imagine it—hundreds of the rarest, most valuable brains in the universe in exchange for the odd useless tourist.” The Pirate Lord wheezed. “Those librarians are terrible negotiators.”

  Pushing through the lower level, Jalya wondered where the vacuum robot was taking her. The heat was rising. It was like being back on Desolate, although worse—she was alone here, without her companions. Without her friends.

  They stopped outside a large metal door. Red light pulsed from the crack beneath it. The Pirate Lord grabbed the handle and shoved it open. The red light streamed out and Jalya raised a hand to cover her eyes.

  “Welcome,” said the Pirate Lord, “to the Forge.”

  The robot bowed and motioned for Jalya to enter, chuckling as it did. Squinting, she tried to make out what was inside. But she couldn’t see anything. Just red light, and a buzzing sound that snaked through her ears. She didn’t move.

  “What do you want me to do?” she said.

  “I merely want you to be yourself, Sister. That’s all you have to do. I want to visit the F.O.U.P.S.P.O. home world and have a meeting with the President. Then I want to kidnap him and bring him here and rule the universe. Oh yes. B
ut obviously I can’t just go barge in there or the Galactic Armada will destroy me before my ship reaches gold ground. In order to pull this off, why, I’d need some sort of . . . F.O.U.P.S.P.O. representative. . . . Oh, look, I have one right here! You can arrange such a meeting, yes?”

  Jalya said nothing.

  “To be honest, Sister, I’m not even sure if the Forge will work on you, but we shall see, won’t we? My pirates are weak willed, and I am concerned you may be made of . . . more durable material. It certainly didn’t work on our parents.”

  Jalya kept her eyes focused ahead. “I’m not going in there,” she said defiantly.

  The Pirate Lord stood in the doorway, silhouetted by red light. “Your mistake,” it said, wheezing and chuckling, “is assuming you actually have a choice.”

  15

  WHERE YOU BELONG

  The planet of Quartle may have technically been “medium-size,” but as the Gadabout approached the blue orb floating in space, Holly realized that medium-size was still massive. The ship shook as it entered the atmosphere, rocketing through the clouds. An ocean lay below them like an aquamarine carpet stretching all the way to the horizon.

  The Gadabout soared over the sparkling waves, and soon land came into view. A rocky shoreline grew out of the water, forming a ragged cliff where huge faces were carved into the stone. Holly counted sixteen, gasping at the last one—it looked like Jalya. She barely had time to marvel at the faces before the ship blasted past.

  Friday, sitting at her desk, mimed typing. “Sir, we’re approaching the capital city,” she said. “The capital is called Quazim City. Population: thirty-four million. Chief industry: synthetic grain manufacturing. Hazards: ice vultures and science.”

  Toshiro leaned back in his chair. “Park ’er outside of town.”

  The Gadabout touched down in a clearing, flattening the tall grass as it landed. The engines sputtered and shut off. The rear door hissed open and the ramp extended. Mr. Mendez and Toshiro descended, but Holly and AsTRO remained behind.

  “You should probably stay here,” she said to the robot. “It might be dangerous.”