by Erin Downing
By the time the girls reached the transport bays, it was already ten minutes to twelve. Hansome had told them the empress’s fleet of space-tankers switched locations at midnight every night to avoid an enemy attack. “We only have a few minutes. We’ll need to split up if we’re going to have any hope of getting trackers on all of the vessels,” Athena said. “Let’s meet up here afterward—this is our rendezvous point.”
“We can use our communicators if we get lost!” Hera chirped, happily waving her compact in the air. She couldn’t wait to use her spy gadgets on a real mission.
“Yes, Hera,” Athena said. “If you got lost or needed help, that would be the perfect time to use your communicator.”
Hera rubbed her hands together, excited. “Yippee. I can’t wait!”
“Everyone ready?” Athena asked. “There are five transport bays. That means one for each of us. There are probably ten tankers parked in each bay, so we’ll need to move fast!”
“And remember,” Rhea said, glancing around. “Don’t get caught.”
“Can I please just trash a couple of Geela’s tankers? Pretty please?” Juno pleaded.
“No,” Athena said, cutting Juno off. “Tracking the tankers to their next location will be of more use to the Resistance. Let’s prove to Hansome we are capable of following instructions and execute at least one mission as requested. I have a feeling we will be rewarded with even better missions in the future.”
“Fine,” Juno snapped. Then she raced away, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll take bay five. Whoever places the most trackers before midnight wins. Go!”
Juno dashed away from the other girls, racing toward the farthest bay at a full-out sprint. She felt confident she could place a tracker on every single one of the space-tankers in her bay and be back at the rendezvous point before any of the other girls had finished their piece of the mission.
All five girls had studied the tracking devices before they set off on the mission and discovered they were very elementary—small, thin, clear rubberlike discs with an adhesive on one side. To use them, you simply peeled away the backing and stuck them to the thing you wanted to track … like a giant bandage. Since they were flexible, they were supposed to mold to the shape of the object and blend in.
Juno hid under the hulking mass of one of the space-tankers. Then she dug into her bag and pulled out her first tracker. She glanced around, making sure no one could see her in the dark recesses at the back of the bay. She peeled off the backing, pressed the tracker to the space-tanker’s hull, and stepped back.
Plop.
Juno scowled. The tracking device had popped off the ship and splatted to the floor. Juno’s heart pounded, her nerves on edge. She glanced around again, then hastily reached down to the floor and scooped up the tracking device. She pressed it to the ship again, holding it in place for a few extra seconds to get the adhesive to stick.
Plop.
Again, it fell to the floor. She dug in her bag, fumbling around for another tracker. “Come on,” she begged. “Let this one work.” But when she peeled off the backing, she found the second tracker wouldn’t hold either. She growled as she tried a third. No luck. Clearly, she was going to have to come up with plan B.
Taking a deep breath, Juno slipped along the back wall of the bay to the other side of the building. She got down on all fours and scuttled toward a mechanic’s truck. When she was sure no one was watching, she scrambled up onto the truck and fumbled around in a pile of stuff until she found a tube of something she knew would work: Moon Glue.
With a proud smirk, she pulled off the cap with her teeth, squeezed a glop of glue on the back of a tracker, and pressed it onto one of the space-tankers. It stuck!
“One down,” she muttered. “Nine to go…”
In bay four, Rhea was having the same issue.
“Captain Hansome looks good,” she muttered, as she fumbled with the adhesive on a tracker, “but I sometimes wonder if that guy’s working with a full deck.”
Like Juno, Rhea had also come up with a creative solution for attaching her trackers: hat pins. She always had some on hand, just in case her own hat came loose during a show or someone needed a wardrobe adjustment. She dug deep and unearthed a small pile of the sharp, pointed, pearl-encrusted pins. Then she jabbed one through a tracker and pressed the pin into the space-tanker’s aluminum hull.
She smiled at her handiwork. “That will do.”
As usual, practical Athena had prepared for any possible issues that might arise. So when she discovered the tracking devices were equipped with faulty adhesive, she reached into her bag and grabbed the double-sided tape she had brought along for just this reason.
“Athena,” Hera hissed into her communicator. “Come in, Athena!”
“Yes, Hera?” Athena replied in a clipped voice, her breaths coming quickly.
“My trackers won’t stick!” Hera was close to tears. When she arrived at bay two and found that the tracker wouldn’t stick, she had optimistically tried every single one of the devices in her bag, maintaining hope that the next one she tried might work.
Athena’s answer came back immediately. “Use something else to stick them on.”
Hera began to say, “But what?” then stopped herself. She knew the other girls thought she was naïve and a little foolish and needed extra care sometimes. Hera didn’t usually worry too much about what others thought of her, but she did long for the other girls to respect her more. If she could come up with her own solution to the problem, perhaps she could earn their respect. “Okay, thanks, Athena. Over and out.”
Hera closed her eyes, methodically removing everything but the problem at hand from her consciousness. She transported herself to her happy place—a field full of moonberries near her family’s castle. The sweet smell of the fresh fruit made Hera feel inspired and calm.
In fact, she had begun to carry around a pack of moonberry gum so that whenever she needed a little pick-me-up … “That’s it!” Hera whispered, her eyes snapping open. “Gum! Gum is sticky!”
She dug into her pocket, popped a piece of moonberry-flavored goodness into her mouth, and began to chew.
In bay one, Luna was feeling smug and completely satisfied. Spritz! At one minute to midnight, just as the fleet of space-tankers fired up their engines, Luna squirted one final spritz of her “defy-gravity” hair serum onto the back of her last tracking device, pressed it onto the hull of a space-tanker, and grinned. The sticky hair spray worked like a charm.
As the first of the tankers rolled out of the bay and set off into the night, Luna spritzed her hair into place, then dashed toward the rendezvous spot. Her mission had been a complete success—all thanks to her hair.
A half hour later, the girls were on a train zooming back toward the center of the capital. They were buzzing with excitement and laughing about all the ways they had had to troubleshoot the faulty trackers. Between them, they had managed to tag every single one of Geela’s space-tankers before they set off for their next spaceport.
“I think Captain Hansome should be pleased,” Athena noted, reluctantly accepting a piece of Hera’s moonberry gum to celebrate.
“Come on, girls,” Rhea said. “We rocked that mission.”
“Group hug?” Hera asked.
Juno and Athena shared a wary glance, then they both nodded. “Yeah,” Juno said. “Today warrants a group hug, Hera.” As they hugged, each of the girls thought about how far they had come in just a few weeks … but also how much more lay ahead for SPACEPOP and the Resistance in the coming months. Life in the Pentangle was still further from normal than ever, but at least it finally felt like the five princesses were doing something to help get their galaxy back on track.
PART FOUR: MISSION CONTROL
CHAPTER 14
“Get out of there!” Juno kicked at a sleek hologram of Geela in the middle of the living room. She leapt to her feet, her heart pounding. Juno had been trying to get a workout in, but Rhea and Hera were watching TV and
it was completely distracting. Especially when they changed the channel and landed on Geela’s Rocky Remodel. When Juno saw Geela’s new renovation project, she had nearly lost it. For on this week’s episode, instead of remodeling her own home, the empress was renovating Junoia’s royal palace and broadcasting it for all of the Pentangle to see. “How dare she?” Juno growled, lunging for the hologram over and over again. “Get out of my house!”
Rhea flicked her wrist, making the hologram disappear. “Juno, it’s just a hologram. You can’t hurt her from here.”
“You guys!” Luna came running into the living room, her cheeks flushed. “We just got a message from Bradbury.”
“Another one?” Rhea asked, rolling her eyes. “How many times a day does that guy write to you?”
“Thirty or forty,” Luna said with a shrug. “I’m keeping our fan base engaged. Oh, and I pretend I’m you girls in some of the messages—I hope you don’t mind.” Before anyone could answer, Luna went on. “But anyway, Bradbury just invited us to play at his uncle’s wedding on Junoia! The band they had originally booked bailed at the last minute—they couldn’t get off their planet because of some sort of travel restriction or something—so he asked if we could make it.” She turned to Chamberlin and asked, “Can you get us to Junoia in a hurry?”
Chamberlin nodded. “We aren’t far from there now. We could be there in a matter of a few hours.” He drummed his fingertips together and whispered, “I do love weddings.”
“I’ll tell him we’ll do it!” Luna said breathlessly.
“A wedding?” Juno asked, her eyebrows lifted. “Seriously? We’re wedding singers now?”
“It’s a huge wedding,” Luna told her. “There will be five hundred people there, and some of them are important.”
She poked at one of the images, and a brand new video of Bradbury began to play. He had uploaded a video to the message boards on the SPACEPOP fan homepage a few minutes earlier. In the video message, big, fat tears rolled down Bradbury’s cheeks as he spoke into the camera. “I love you so so so so much,” he said earnestly to the camera. “You’re all so inspiring and … and … I just want to be you!” He rubbed his face, composing himself just enough to whisper, “I promise all the SPACEPOP fans out there that I will find out absolutely everything there is to know about our favorite band and report it back to you. Consider it my sacred duty.” Bradbury sobbed again, and the screen went black.
Luna clapped. “Oh my Grock, he loves us! We made someone cry!”
“Is that a good thing?” Hera asked.
Luna nodded vigorously. “I’ve missed having crazy fans,” she said. “Princess Lunaria de Longoria was worshipped and adored. And now, my alter ego Luna, SPACEPOP’s lead singer, is worshipped and adored, too.” She sighed.
Athena frowned. “Don’t you think we should worry about this video? Just a bit?”
“Bradbury vowed to find out everything there is to know about us,” Rhea added. “We don’t want anyone to know everything about us. That’s the whole point of being in disguise—we’re keeping secrets.”
Luna brushed her off. “Bradbury’s harmless.” She bounced away from the computer and began her pre-show makeup and hair routine. “Besides, he booked us a great gig—we should be grateful. Stop being such worriers.”
* * *
As soon as the SPACEPOP tour bus set down on Junoia, Bradbury knocked on their door. “I’m so glad you could come,” he said, breathless. In a sing-song voice, he added, “This is going to be a-ma-zing!”
He led them into the wedding venue—a beautiful stone garden, filled with waterfalls and small bonsai trees that seemed to glow from within. Bradbury ushered them past crowds of caterers, florists, and waiters. “You can get ready in here,” he said, opening a door to reveal a sheltered changing area. “I didn’t want to freak you guys out or anything by telling you this before you arrived, but … my uncle is actually a concert promoter here on Junoia. If you do a good job today, there’s a really good chance you’ll get some new bookings.” He crossed his fingers and wiggled them in the air. “Fingers—and toes!—crossed.”
Juno crossed her own fingers and managed a thin smile. “Fingers crossed.” She patted him on the shoulder, then made her way into the dressing room.
Bradbury blushed, avoiding Juno’s gaze. Rhea couldn’t keep herself from laughing—it was obvious to everyone that Bradbury had a major crush on Juno. But it was just as obvious that she terrified him more than a little bit.
“Hey, Bradbury,” Juno said from inside the changing room. She held up a big pile of fur. “What’s with all the fur in here?”
“Fur?!” Hera screeched. “The poor animals!”
“It’s not real fur,” Bradbury assured her. “No creatures were harmed while making your costumes.”
“I’m sorry—” Athena said, her face stony. “Our what?”
“Your costumes,” Bradbury said, more loudly. “My uncle and his fiancée—his wife now, I guess!—are huge animal lovers.” He looked at Luna, obviously confused. “In my messages, I explained that everyone at the wedding was asked to dress as his or her favorite animal—extinct or otherwise. We got five costumes ready for you—an otter, a fox, a cat, a chimp, and a narwhal. It’s all they had left at the costume supply shop.”
Luna glared at him. In a steely voice, she said, “You want us to dress … as animals?”
“I told you that in my messages,” Bradbury said, his voice strained. “And if you don’t play, my uncle won’t see how amazing you are, and the gig with the Vorks tomorrow night won’t happen, and—”
“Luna?” Athena said, cutting him off. “Did you read Bradbury’s whole message?”
Luna grinned sheepishly. “Not exactly. He sends a lot of messages.” She turned to Bradbury. “What gig with the Vorks, Bradbury?”
“Wellllll,” Bradbury said. “You know the Vorks, right?”
“As in, the number one band in the galaxy?” Rhea asked. “Yeah, we’ve heard of them.”
“Wellllll,” Bradbury said again. “Vindee, their lead singer, really likes your sound. She told my uncle to check you guys out, and if he likes you, too—well, he was going to book you as the opening act for the Vorks tomorrow night at the Junoia coliseum. It’s a sold-out show—forty-five thousand fans!”
“Are you serious?” Luna shrieked.
“Totally,” Bradbury said. “But the catch is, you have to impress my uncle first. And to impress my uncle, you’re going to have to slip into these animal suits and sing your hearts out at the reception tonight.”
Luna grabbed the cute cat costume before anyone else had a chance. “Dibs!” she yelled. “Let’s do this thing, girls. We’re going to open for the Vorks!”
Despite the band’s bizarre costumes, the SPACEPOP performance at Bradbury’s uncle’s wedding went really well. The best part of the night, though, was when Bradbury’s uncle announced to the entire wedding party that SPACEPOP would be opening for the Vorks the next night at Junoia’s coliseum. The girls all threw off their animal heads and cheered, then played “We ’Bout to Start Something Big” for a very excited crowd. They kept things hopping until well after midnight. By the time they got back to the tour bus, each of the girls was ready to curl up into a ball and hibernate.
But before their heads could hit their pillows, Chamberlin rushed into their room. “Your Highnesses, Captain Hansome is waiting to speak with you.”
“Congratulations on booking your first major arena show,” Captain Hansome said when the girls had gathered around the screen. “I have more good news for you.”
“You’re coming to visit?” Luna asked in an unnaturally high voice. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and beamed at the captain’s hologram.
“Uh, no…” Hansome said. “But! The Resistance would like to request your help. This will be your biggest mission yet. I think you will enjoy it.”
“We enjoy all your missions, Captain,” Luna cooed.
Captain Hansome chuckled. �
�Wonderful. Now, as I was saying: your mission. While you are on Junoia, we would like you to track down the hidden server that houses and distributes all of Geela’s television and radio broadcasts. We have information that this server is tucked away underground, in a carefully guarded bunker.
“We at … the Resistance want to shut down Geela’s media circuits. If we can blast the server to smithereens, we will shut her down—for a while, at least—and take the opportunity to show her what it feels like to be silenced and controlled.”
“Just like she’s doing to the people of the galaxy!” Hera said, eyes wide.
The girls all nodded. Hansome was right: this was the mission they had been waiting for. It was time to shut Geela down.
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
“We did it!” screamed Athena, pumping her fist into the air. “Geela has officially been silenced!” The heat from the blast licked at her back as she and the other rebels raced away from the exploding server. The entire structure glowed orange, and the giant computer fizzed and popped.
Then horrible honking sounds began to echo out from somewhere inside the building. “Is that Geela crying?” Hera asked, looking back over her shoulder.
“Oh, no,” Juno said. She grabbed Hera by the elbow and tugged her forward. “You’re not feeling bad for her, are you?”
Hera jutted out her chin and continued to run. “Not even a little bit. She destroyed our families’ homes. She’s holding our parents prisoner. Our planets are a mess. She’s taken over our beautiful galaxy and encouraged the people—our people—to distance themselves from each other and fight among themselves. She deserves this … and much more.”
