Cows in Action 1

by Steve Cole

  “Ha!” shouted Bo. “The beef’s come to grief!”

  And in a puff of black smoke, the bull from the future vanished.

  Pat and Bo joined McMoo, staring at the empty space where the half-metal monster had been standing.

  “Good punching, Pat,” Bo cheered.

  “And that was an excellent roundhouse kick, Bo,” the professor noted. “Superb.”

  She blushed. “I never thought you paid attention in my kickboxing class, Professor. You always seemed to be reading.”

  “My dear Bo, I’m a genius, remember?” McMoo nudged her in the ribs. “I can do seven things at once. Doing two is a doddle!”

  “Where do you think that thing came from, Professor?” said Pat shakily.

  “I don’t know,” said McMoo. “But I must admit, I haven’t been so scared since Bessie Barmer’s extra-big pants blew off the washing line and hit me in the face!”

  Pat shuddered at the thought. But the ter-moo-nator was an even scarier thought than Bessie’s bloomers. “Do you think that robo-bull thing is … dead?”

  McMoo shook his head. “You heard it say ‘recall’. I think it’s been transported away. Taken back to wherever it came from.”

  “Correct!” came a booming moo from behind them. “Back to the future!”

  Professor McMoo spun round. Two cows were standing in the open doorway to the Time Shed, panting for breath like they had been running. They were dressed in black suits, cool dark shades and pointy hats like a wizard’s, only smaller. The only way you could tell them apart was that one was bigger than the other.

  “More ter-moo-nators?” cried Bo, raising her hooves.

  “Uh-oh.” Pat gulped. “If only we had another teapot.”

  “If only we had Bessie Barmer’s extra-big pants!” Bo exclaimed.

  “There is no need for tea or pants,” said the biggest cow quickly. “We are not ter-moo-nators.”

  Bo stared at them suspiciously. “But you are from the future, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” admitted the cow.

  Pat was impressed. “How did you know, Bo?”

  “Easy,” she told him. “No cow in this century would be seen dead wearing a hat like that!”

  “Er, can we come in?” asked the larger cow.

  “No!” Professor McMoo stood protectively in front of Pat and Bo. “What are you cows of the future doing here in our time? Eh? What’s going on?”

  “We came here to save you, Angus McMoo,” said the smaller of the two cows in an even deeper voice. “You and your Time Shed.”

  McMoo frowned. “Have you been spying on me?”

  “We have always known that you built a time machine,” said the first cow, “because for us, it has already happened, long ago.”

  The second cow nodded. “We are cows from the year 2550 – and you must travel there with us. At once!”

  Pat and Bo stared in utter amazement.

  “Why?” asked McMoo pointedly.

  “Are you sure we can’t come in?” said the smaller cow. “In one-point-three minutes it will start raining, and we haven’t got our coats.”

  “You just stay where you are!” McMoo stomped up to the curious cows in the doorway. “I don’t want to seem bullish about this – although I am a bull, obviously – but this is my Time Shed!” He frowned at them. “Perhaps in your time, everyone has their own magic time-travelling silver platter. But right now, in this time, a time machine is a bit special, OK? And I’m using it to escape from this farm – not running a taxi service for cows on their way to a fancy-dress party!”

  “We wear the uniform of the Prime Moo-vers,” said the biggest cow grandly. “I am Shetland.”

  “And I am Holstein,” said his friend.

  “What’s a Prime Moo-ver?” asked Pat.

  “We rule kindly over all cattle,” said Holstein.

  “Well you don’t rule us!” Bo replied. It was bad enough being bossed around by Bessie Barmer, without these weird cows joining in.

  “We don’t want to rule you,” said Holstein patiently. “We came to save you. When we learned that the F.B.I. had sent a ter-moo-nator to get Professor McMoo, we hoofed it over here in a flash.”

  Shetland nodded. “Those Fed-up Bulls know that you are all destined to be star agents of the C.I.A.”

  “C.I.A.?” McMoo blinked. “You mean the Central Intelligence Agency in America?”

  “No,” said Shetland. “I mean Cows in Action – a crack team of time-travelling cow commandos, dedicated to saving the world!”

  Chapter Four

  FUTURE COW PARADISE

  “Pull the udder one!” Little Bo glared at the strange future cows. “Why should we believe anything you say?”

  But just then it started to rain – exactly as Holstein had predicted. The two suited cows sighed in the open doorway as their sunglasses started to steam up.

  “Well, OK then, we can believe some of the things you say,” said Pat. “But if you came from the future to save us from that nasty bull-thing, how come you turned up too late to do anything?”

  Holstein looked forlorn. “Our time machine broke down. We couldn’t get the doors open, so we got here late.”

  “It was really embarrassing,” Shetland admitted.

  McMoo brightened. “I’m clever with machines. In fact, I’m clever full stop! I’ll soon fix it for you.”

  “Impossible.” Holstein shook rainwater from his head. “When it broke down, we set it to self-destruct. Technology from the twenty-sixth century must never fall into the hands of humans in the twenty-first.”

  “Why not?” Pat wondered.

  “Because they are not ready for it,” said Shetland. “Suppose I crash-landed a fighter jet in medieval times, and the humans there learned its secrets. Imagine what such violent, primitive people would do with rocket engines, air-to-ground missiles, computers …”

  McMoo nodded gravely. “They would have amazing technology, but not the wisdom to use it,” he said. “They could destroy their world a hundred times over.”

  “Exactly,” said Holstein. He licked a dangling raindrop from his nose. “Careless time travel can change the course of history and destroy the future!”

  “And we have enough on our hooves trying to stop the F.B.I. from doing exactly that,” said Shetland. “You see, Professor, thanks to you, future cows know the secrets of time travel. But we Prime Moo-vers place heavy restrictions on its use. We observe historical events, but rarely interfere.”

  “Quite right too,” said McMoo approvingly.

  “The F.B.I. are different,” said Holstein. “They do nothing but interfere! When we wouldn’t let them use our Time Sheds, they built their own miniature time machines instead.”

  “We saw one,” Pat revealed. “Looked like a big silver disc.”

  Bo nodded. “First time I ever saw beef serve itself up on a plate!”

  “A ter-moo-nator is cyber-beef,” said Shetland gravely. “The F.B.I. took their meanest, nastiest members and made them stronger and smarter with robotic parts.”

  “Now they are the perfect time-travelling agents,” added Holstein. “Ruthless, fearless and programmed to win at all costs.” He shook a soggy suit-sleeve and sighed. “Now please can we come in out of the rain?”

  “Oi,” came the familiar screech of Bessie Barmer from outside. “Where did you two cows come from?”

  “All right,” McMoo agreed. “And you’d better shut the door too – fast!”

  “Cows in silly costumes indeed,” Bessie snarled. “Well, Ted the Butcher will take them whatever they’re wearing …”

  “B-b-butcher?” Holstein turned as white as a ghost and slammed the door. “We don’t have butchers in our own time!”

  Pat’s ears pricked up. “You don’t?”

  Shetland shook his head. “Cows and humans live together as equals. We enjoy long lives and the freedom to roam wherever we like.”

  “Wow!” Bo beamed. “Sounds good!”

  “Please,
Professor,” said Holstein. “Will you let us show you our future world – and your destiny?”

  All eyes were on McMoo.

  “Do they still have tea in the twenty-sixth century?” he asked.

  “We shall send a moo-ssenger to fetch the finest tea bags in China,” cried Shetland. “Only please come!”

  A harsh, scraping sound came from just outside – the sound of big knives being sharpened. “Oh, little stray coooo-ooooo-ws,” called Bessie Barmer in a sing-song voice. “Come out to play! Auntie Bessie’s got something for yooooooooou …”

  “Quick, Professor!” said Pat. “Before she comes inside!”

  “It seems I have no choice,” said McMoo. He crossed to the control centre and set the date. “Year: 2550. Location …?”

  “Sunflower Drive, Luckyburger,” Holstein told him.

  “Luckyburger?” Bo spluttered.

  “In your time it is the country known as Luxembourg,” said Shetland. “But in the twenty-sixth century it is called Luckyburger, and only cows live there.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Pat in a daze.

  “Then let’s see it for ourselves.” McMoo’s tail curled around the red take-off lever, and he grinned at his companions. “Stand by for that test-drive. We’re going over five hundred years into our own future!”

  He yanked hard on the lever. There was a hum of power. And then a whine. And then a deep, throaty roar. The shed began to vibrate.

  “What are you up to in there?” shouted Bessie Barmer, but her voice was fading away, replaced by a swooshing, swishing, hissing sound. It was the sound of time itself surging and splashing like a vast, mysterious ocean against the sturdy walls of the Time Shed as the little

  Blinding bright light peeped in through cracks in the wood. The control centre juddered and shuddered, harder and faster.

  Little Bo’s udder started wobbling like lime-green jelly. “I’ve heard of a milkshake, but this is ridiculous!” she groaned.

  “Nearly there,” gasped Professor McMoo, his eyes on the time-o-meter. building sped into the future. The years were whizzing by – 2456, 2498, 2521, 2539 …

  Suddenly there was a crash like a thousand milk bottles dropping off a cliff. The Time Shed rocked and rattled and squealed as it dumped itself back into reality.

  Pat breathed a long sigh of relief. “We made it!”

  “Ha-haaaaa!” McMoo jumped in the air with happiness. “The Time Shed works – we’ve actually moo-oo-ooved through time and space!”

  Bo gave him a look. “So you say.”

  “If the professor says we’ve moved, then we’ve moved!” Pat said loyally.

  “There’s one way to check.” Holstein crossed to the doors and sniffed suspiciously. Then he threw them open. “Ahh, yes. Smell that air, so rich with cowpats!”

  “We are home,” Shetland cried. “Welcome to Luckyburger, one and all!”

  McMoo crossed quickly to the doors and reached them just ahead of Bo and Pat. All three of them followed the Prime Moo-vers outside – and stared round in wonder.

  They found themselves in the middle of a road made of fragrant wild grass. Huge sunflowers grew alongside. Cows and oxen, bulls and buffalos, cattle of all different breeds and sizes wandered happily through the lush green meadows that stretched on for miles around. Shetland walked up to a cow in a blue cap and murmured in its ear. The cow jumped onto a sort of silver scooter, which suddenly sped off into the sky.

  “That’s what I call getting on your bike!” said McMoo approvingly. “Anti-gravity motors under the saddle, eh? I wish I’d thought of that!”

  “You will,” Holstein informed him. “In about five years from now.”

  “The Time Shed is only the first of your great inventions,” Shetland added. “Many of them are still used today.”

  McMoo beamed. “Tell me, do I ever manage to invent an electric sundial?” he asked hopefully.

  Shetland and Holstein swapped puzzled looks. “Er, no.”

  “Oh.” Professor McMoo looked a bit forlorn, but quickly brightened. “Oh well, maybe someone will think of it one day!”

  Pat shook his aching head. It was hard enough coming to terms with being in a new time and place, without the added distraction of wondering how an electric sundial would work. But just then a massive, juicy-looking clump of grass caught his eye. He licked his lips, all cares suddenly forgotten.

  “Help yourself, young Pat,” boomed Holstein. “Everything is free here.”

  “This place is all right, I suppose,” said Bo, noisily chewing her gum. “But it would be better with some loud music.”

  Holstein smiled politely. “Perhaps you will like our home better, the Palace of Great Moos.”

  “Does it have a cool stereo?” she asked excitedly. “Amusement arcade? Indoor swimming pool? A milkmaid with warm hands to massage your udder?”

  “Not as such,” Shetland admitted. “But it’s ever so nice.”

  “Nice?” Bo looked horrified. “Ugh!”

  Holstein cleared his throat politely. “This road takes us straight there. Shall we go?”

  McMoo took in the clear blue sky, the tweeting birds, the fresh air and the sheer amount of tasty grub all around him, and gave a deep, contented sigh. “It’s a cow paradise, all right,” he declared as they all set off along the grassy track. “So tell me. How did all this start?”

  “It started with you, McMoo. You were the first cow genius to ever be born.” Holstein smiled. “The Emmsy-Squares were the first breed of clever cattle, but others soon followed … The Piedish Shorthorns, the Cloven Wagglehooves … Slowly but surely, cows, oxen, bulls and heifers all revealed their intelligence. They made little improvements around their farms. They started to help with the accounts.”

  Shetland took up the story. “But it was only when a bison stood for election as governor of Alabama in 2213 that people really started to look at cattle in a different light.”

  “Did he win?” asked McMoo.

  “No, he was disqualified for butting his opponent’s wife at a rally,” said Holstein sadly. “But a Welsh Black was elected to the British House of Commons soon after. Humans finally came to realize there was more to cows than roast beef and milk.”

  “But not all cows were grateful to the humans for giving us this land,” said Shetland. “Some wanted revenge for all those centuries of being treated like … er, cattle. So they formed the Fed-up Bull Institute – the F.B.I. Their mission is to wipe out human history and make the Age of the Clever Cow begin far sooner.”

  Bo shrugged. “So? Sounds like a pretty good plan to me.”

  Her words had a strange effect. The Prime Moo-vers started mooing like foghorns, trotting around in circles and getting themselves in a real state.

  “Meddling with the past can only lead to disaster!” cried Shetland.

  “But it could work out really cool for cows everywhere!” Bo protested.

  “No,” said Holstein firmly. “Every time the past is changed, so is the future. Imagine if you took the Time Shed to see how this farm looked a hundred years ago – but landed on top of the farmer, and squashed him flat. His wife might sell the farm. It could end up as a shopping centre or a car park.”

  “I see what you mean,” said Pat, frowning. “If it wasn’t a farm, we wouldn’t ever have been there. And that means the professor would never have found the bits and pieces in next-door’s bins that he needed to build the Time Shed …”

  Holstein nodded. “And you would all have been zapped out of existence in a second.”

  “Hmm. Good job I would never dream of taking the Time Shed on such a foolhardy trip, eh?” McMoo said quickly, ignoring the looks Bo was giving him. “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. Basically, if the horrid history of cows is changed in any way, then this fabulous future awaiting us all may never happen.”

  “That’s right,” said Shetland, a little calmer now. “You three are the first of the Clever Cows. Will you agree to help us safeguard the futur
e? Will you join the fight against the F.B.I.? Will you join the C.I.A. and become Cows in Action?”

  “From Bull Genius to Clever Cow.” Professor McMoo scratched his head. “Crikey. What have I got us all into?”

  “An adventure and a half by the sound of it!” Little Bo grinned. “Count me in.”

  “And me,” agreed Pat, chewing heroically on some clover.

  “And me too, I suppose.” McMoo sighed. “On one condition.”

  “What is that?” asked Shetland, smiling.

  “That I get some tea, pronto!” cried McMoo. He winked at Pat and Bo. “How can I fight deadly robot bulls with a mouth as dry as dung in the desert?”

  Then they all ducked as the cow in the blue cap went whizzing overhead on her scooter, a big sack marked TEA BAGS swung over one shoulder.

  Pat stared in wonder. “Has that cow been to China and back already?”

  “What’s more, she probably stopped for a weed sandwich along the way.” Shetland grinned. “She’s going to the palace.”

  “And so are we!” McMoo declared, whisking Pat and Bo away with him along the grassy track at a fast gallop.

  Shetland and Holstein stared after the bossy, brainy bull and his friends. Smiles spread slowly over their faces. It looked as if the C.I.A. had just gained three very unusual members!

  Chapter Five

  CATTLE SET FOR BATTLE

  Around the next bend in the grassy road, the Palace of Great Moos came into sight. “Huh!” said Bo, but McMoo and Pat gazed upon it in wonder.

  The palace was a large dome made of milk-white marble, set in a sprawling courtyard. Towers and turrets rose from it like enormous horns, pointing up into the sky. All around, magnificent fountains gushed and burbled. The grounds were lined with huge hedges, cut into the shape of giant milk churns and cows in heroic poses.

  “That is where we Prime Moo-vers live and work,” said Holstein. “And where C.I.A. has its headquarters.”

  “Have you thought about painting it bright yellow?” Bo asked. “Or spray-painting some cool graffiti on the walls?”

  “No,” said Shetland flatly.

  The band of cows went through grass-green doors in the great marble dome and clomped into a large, cool entrance hall. Ahead of them was a glittering gold door, and huge water troughs were lined up against the walls on either side. To McMoo’s delight, one of the troughs was full of fresh, steaming hot tea. “At last!” he boomed. Then he stuck his head in it and happily slurped it all down.